Datasets:

euclaise

/

WritingPrompts_preferences

like 7

[ "Every second friday was his favorite workday. Heshaun got paid on that day. Working day in and day out, starting at 6am in the morning and powering through twelve hours of work just to support his family, which consisted of just his younger brother Mesan. Ever since his their parents died in a car accident, Heshaun picked up the torch and carried his brother on his back.\n\nEvery night after picking up Mesan, they would hold hands and slowly walk home. Mesan kept staring into the glass of a toy store. Heshaun had noticed that Mesan had his eyes on this shiny new remote controlled helicopter. There were more 0's on the price tag than Heshaun has ever made. It read, 26000 Sri Lanka Rupee's (equates to around 200 dollars). His normal day job, earned him about 6 dollars a day, and that was only enough to survive on the bare minimum. Mesan's birthday was creeping around the corner. Heshaun decided to pick up another job at night to be a busboy at a restaurant in downtown Colombo. He would head out after Mesan had fallen asleep, and often wouldn't return home until the moon hung high in the dark sky. This busboy job earned him another extra 500 Rupee's (about 4 dollars) a night.\n\nHeshaun's skeleton was becoming more obvious, the harder he worked, the less meat he had on his body. Waking up at 6am, and heading off to his job at the rubber factory. Where toxic fumes poisoned his body from within. Then after 10pm, he would quietly 40 minutes to his busboy job to clean up. When Heshaun wasn't careful, he would always find cuts on his hand from plates or cups that broke.\n\nCoincidentally, both jobs paid Heshaun on the same day, every second Friday. Heshaun would hide the all of his hard earned money in his worn out shoe sole. After two months of working nonstop, day in and day out. All that his body consisted of was skin and bone only.\n\nMesan's birthday had passed. At that time, Heshaun hadn't saved enough money up for the remote control helicopter. Now Heshaun had confidently walked into the shop one night and bought the brand new toy to bring back and surprise Mesan.\n\nThe next night after picking up Mesan, they headed straight home. Upon opening the squeaky door, Mesan saw a huge wrapped present with a big blue bow on it. Mesan couldn't resist his urges, and jumped straight onto the box and ripped open the wrapping paper. And there it was, a shiny remote control toy helicopter. Mesan was overcome with joy! He let Mesan play with the helicopter as he was getting ready for his busboy job.\n\nHe returned late at night, and saw the helicopter was blast into smithereens. All of his hard work earned money was instantly gone, down the drain in a snap. Heshaun was furious and woke up Mesan and yelled at him about breaking toys, especially ones that he had worked so hard to afford for Mesan. Mesan was arguing back describing the poorly crafted toy broke on its own. But Heshaun knew that Mesan broke that big two hundred dollar bill.\n\nHeshaun slapped Mesan across the face for not understanding how to treasure things people give us. As Mesan was sobbing, he looked down and whispered, \"you aren't my dad, you can't tell me what to do\".\n\nHeshaun instantly lost his strength to support the both of them.", "She skips down the hallway, stopping in the wash room to fix her braided hair and tries to scrub the dirt off her leggings. Being only 6 there's only so much she can do, but she tries to look her best because today is special.\n\nThe entire car ride is silent, no one dares to speak. She swings her feet back and forth and tries to stretch herself tall enough to see out the window. They're getting closer now, there's the high school full of big kids, the clinic, the hospital - they're here.\n\nShe jumps out of the back seat and runs towards the door ready to burst with excitement, she knows the way. The elevator takes an eternity, and time is running low. Finally the metal doors open, and there before her is everyone she's ever known.\n\nShe smiles and waves hello, she peaks in the rooms while she walks by. There's people lying there grey and old. She reaches the last room on the right, runs inside smiling from ear to ear.\n\n\"Mommy!\" she screams, excited to finally visit again.\n\nHer mother doesn't move, she isn't old but she's so grey she's almost blue. She cannot speak, she can barely keep her eyes open, she's tired all of the time now. She strains to keep them open, staring at the little girl before her. Someone tells the little girl it's time to say goodbye, her mommy has to go.\n\n\"Goodbye Mommy! I love you!\" She skips out of the room and down the hall, her mother closes her eyes for the last time.", "The gentle rustling of the leaves below his feet dissolved into the serene silence of the night air. Dylan had always enjoyed silence when he walked. It let his thoughts flow more freely, as if his memories were timid children, only coming out to play when there was no noise to scare them back to the recesses of his mind. He looked up and smiled. The sky was clear tonight. The stars always reminded him of her.\n\t\nSabrina the Unicorn - that’s what she called it, her first constellation. She was four at the time, and Dylan was seven. The two of them had snuck out past their bedtimes to watch the stars in the backyard, as they often did. On the few occasions they were caught, Dylan had always been relieved the punishment seemed too light - two days without television. Of course, years later, he realized his parents had always known the kids were playing astronomer at night, and had only caught them to make the successful escapades more satisfying. On that one particular evening, she had stared intently at the sky for what seemed like forever, as if demanding the universe answer an unspoken question. Dylan knew not to interrupt, but it was unusually long, even for her. Without breaking her staring contest with the universe, she had emphatically declared, “There! That’s Sabrina the Unicorn!” They would name many more constellations together as the years went by, though that first one always was the most memorable. Dylan never had the heart to tell her it already had a name. The Big Dipper.\n\t\nThe air had become chilly and the intruder in Dylan’s jacket pocket had begun to make its presence felt. But he didn’t mind. He was, however, concerned with being late. Even though where he was going punctuality mattered to no one but himself. His footsteps quickened nevertheless, as if he was hoping the steady rhythm would drown out the memories that had come floating to the surface.\n\t\nThey had grown apart over the years. Different cities, different friends, different families. Dylan reminisced on his own children marveling at those infinite little sparks of hope resting on a pristine canvas. He was sure his nephews had done the same. She had grown into a busy person, as had he. They didn’t talk often. Every once in a while, though, at a holiday gathering or a family reunion, they would still try to find time to stargaze. It was in those rare moments that they truly shared their problems, their dreams, and their fears. He had not been able to talk to her like that in years. The last time they talked, she had told him about the cancer.\n\t\nA soft breeze brought Dylan out of his reverie. He had long ago stopped walking. His feet knew the way without his help. He took a deep breath, and stared into the heavens, searching for something he knew he would not find. As his eyes grew watery from the strain, he finally looked down. He reached into his jacket and retrieved a miniature telescope. Gently, he brushed the surface of the headstone with his palm and set the gift on top of it. \n\t\n“Hi sis, happy birthday.”\n", "He holds her to his chest, visibly shaking as tears cascading off his face. He rocks her as she grows cold in his arms. Headlights intensify as an unknown car drives past them, unknowingly she is taking her last breaths.\n\n\"Hold on baby, please hold on,\" he whispers into her ear as the sounds of sirens wail in the distance.\n\n\"They're almost here. Just hold on. They're almost here,\" he continues to choke out.\n\n \n\nA flickering light to the right of them catches his attention. He watches the light as it grows from a small flickering flame into a raging fire as his beloved motorcycle burns.\n\n \n\nShe opens her eyes and frowns at him. \"Your bike,\" she says, barely more than a whisper, \"what happened?\"\n\n \n\n\"I'm so sorry baby, I should have listened to you. I was going too fast,\" he says quietly, his sobs interrupting him from going any further.\n\n \n\n\"Why are you crying,\" she asks him quietly.\n\n \n\n\"You're bleeding so bad. I should have listened,\" he quietly admits.\n\n \n\n\"Shh, shh, shh...It's okay. I forgive you,\" she said before closing her eyes and exhaling.\n\n \n\nThe flashing red and white lights come to view as she spasms in his arms. \"No..No..NO...HELP!\" he begins shouting at the lights.\n\n \n\nHe raises his arm from across her stomach, blood dripping off it into the ditch under them. He waved it frantically as the ambulance came to a stop, smartly behind the engulfed motorcycle.\n\nThe paramedics came running down, red and white bags in their hands. The run their hands over her body. One of them begins cutting away her jeans, the crunch and tearing sounds magnifying in my ears with each downward push of the scissors into the blood soaked fabric.\n\n\"Ma,am. Are you okay Ma'am,\" one of the paramedics asked.\n\nA pained voice came through, \"Yes, just please help him. Save him!\"\n\nI see the accident as if I was floating above it. The paramedics hovering over a body, and my beautiful wife crying, her arms crossing, clutching to each other.\n\n\"Wake up baby, please...PLEASE...wake up,\" she says almost to herself.\n\nI open my eyes a final time, finally understanding that I was living my worst nightmare. I was hearing her say all those things to me...but my mind twisted it around as the blood drained from my head.\n\n\"I'm sorry ma'am,\" the paramedic said as he stood up from his kneeled position. \"He's gone.\"\n\nHer screams was the last thing I heard before fading into the night.", "It looked strange up close, bigger and more billowy than I'd imagined in my head. It really seemed massive to me, it was wider than my arm span and standing at the foot of it, the headboard seemed miles away. This bed didnt look like the cot I slept on after my social worker, Isaac pulled me out of my home. I looked up at ang- I mean 'mom', and saw a strange expression on her face. Hopeful maybe? Excited, almost. That confused me. Why would anyone be excited to give something away, especially something so big. My new mom spoke first. \n\"Well, do you like it?\" Her voice shook and she sounded nervous. I looked around me, noticing my surroundings other than the bed for the first time. There were a few dark colored pieces of furniture-- a desk with a rolling chair, a dresser, and a rocking chair in the corner. The walls were light blue and there was a soft quilt folded on the rocking chair. I noticed the posters on the wall of some of my favorite baseball players that I had mentioned to Isaac one afternoon while we watched the game on tv. I looked back to the bed, tears filling my eyes. I took a deep breath and looked up at my new mom, trying to picture how my childhood would have been if I'd lived with her all along. I saw visions of laughter and hugging and fun. I saw her putting a bandaid on my knee when I scraped it instead of pushing me down in our gravel driveway like my real mom had. She'd given me scraped knees and broken bones instead of fixing me. \"I've never had a bed before. Or posters...\" I felt my voice crack and I let my sentence trail off. In an instant, I felt Angie's arms around me, holding me close. I felt the tears spill over onto my cheeks and I whispered \"or a mom.\" I'm not sure if my mom heard me, but she squeezed me a little tighter. ", "The Hunched Woman\n\nEveryone looked away when she entered the cafe and stood at the entrance briefly to gain her composure. It was a sweltering hot summer day, a bit too early in the morning for these temperatures. Her upper spine was permanently bent forward at 45 degrees near her elbow level. She stood in line looking for her coin purse and when she found it she had to crane her head even lower and bend her back even more just so that she could look into it.\n\nShe had a beautiful face, framed by a mop of sun bleached hair in a tidy ponytail. Her wrinkles betrayed her comely features but it was not hard to peel back time just enough to see that she was very beautiful in her youth. I'm sure men chased her around back in the days but I wonder if they saw her crooked back first. I wonder if she's married. I wonder if she's lonely. I wonder if she ever fell in love. I wonder if she tried her best to attract him. I wonder how she felt when he rejected her. I wonder how he broke her heart. I wonder if she still to tends to it. I wonder if she has left it broken.\n\nHer drink is called from the bar. A large iced green tea frap. She takes a sip and gingerly places it at the bottom of one of those two wheeled grocery carts and leaves the cafe, dragging her drink behind her.\n\nNo one noticed her.\n\n", "Dear mom;\n\nTwenty two years ago, you brought me into this world. I can't imagine the pain you were in, being so small yet carrying two children. I know we put a strain on you. I'm sorry for that.\n\nI remember the way you used to talk to us. When we had friends, you would be the perfect mom, or just the \"cool mom\". But as soon as we were alone, you went back to treating us like shit. You hit us, beat us, said hurtful things. But you tried your best, mom, I know. I'm sorry.\n\nThen, you tried to be cool. You didn't want to be our mother, you wanted to be our friend. It didn't work with me. I tried so hard, but after you cancelled plans for the hundredth time, I gave up. Even though it was awhile ago, I shouldn't have ever given up. I'm sorry. \n\nFinally, when I became twenty one, you stopped trying so hard. I found that I could stand being with you for more than an hour. That was nice. We finally started mending. I apologized for not being there for you; you apologized for virtually the same. I'm sorry for everything.\n\nWe were worried about my stepdad's health. We knew yours wasn't the best, but we focused on him, thinking it would be him that goes first. We may still be right, but now it doesn't matter. I remember when you first told me about your diagnosis; hepatic encephalopathy. I learned very quickly what it was, and it terrified me. But I have to stay strong for you. I try my hardest, but it's too hard sometimes. I'm sorry.\n\nWhen you got to the point where you couldn't walk more than five steps, I took it in stride. I didn't show you that it kills me to see my mom so weak. I can't tell you, so I act nonchalant. I'm your son, the only one near you right now. I have to be brave. I know you need me. I'm sorry mom.\n\nI need you too. I'm 22, and we finally have the relationship I've always wanted. We talk every few days, and I visit you as often as possible. We have fun, you worry about me, I push it aside. Yes mom; things in my life are as bad as they seem sometimes. But I will not lean on you; you, who needs help in the shower sometimes, you who forgets things now, you who can't stand alone. I'm sorry. I will not add more weight to your burden.\n\nWe've had our relationship little over a year. And now they're trying to tell me that you have Alzheimers? You cried on my shoulder, and told me you'd rather die. I know you would. I'm so sorry mama. It'll be okay. \n\nNow I spend hours crying like a child. We spent so long at each other's throats, but now that we have a solid relationship, I have to worry about losing you. It's not fair. Thank the gods you're still here for now. I love you. I'm sorry.\n\nLove, spacepuppy69\n\n````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````\n\n\"Mom, I wrote you a letter.\"\nI open the door, wondering why you didn't respond. \"You still want me to come over today, right?\" I walk into the empty living room. \"Mom?\"\n\nFinally, I hear sounds coming from the bedroom. \"Mom!\" I cry, as I rush into the room. \"Why are you crying? What's wrong?\"\n\nI see your shrunken shoulders heave with your sobs. Finally, you raise your blue eyes to meet my brown ones. \n\n\"Mom... I wrote you something. I want you to read it, okay?\"\n\nShe looks at me quizzically, no longer sobbing. Thank the gods. You seem confused. \"Mom...?\"\n\nFinally, you look me in the eye and I see something. A twinkle. A small smile. You always put on a happy face for company. And you say the three words that rip my heart through my throat.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nEDIT: I know this isn't the best thing to be read. But you provided an outlet, thank you.", "It was a rainy day. He was sitting on their bench in the park. Something about the rain compelled him to this bench. Sometimes he acted upon this compulsion while others life got in the way. He still couldn’t understand what it was about the rain that brought him here. He had no connection with it and the bench, but the feeling was always there. He could sense it growing inside him as he smelled the rain approaching in the air. He would start to feel anxious. If he was in his office he would get up and pace around, almost gasping for different, dry air. Hoping the emotions would subside.\nBut often enough he went. And when he did he cried. Releasing everything he had been keeping in the past 4 years. He didn’t know why he couldn’t let the past go, just as he didn’t understand his connection to the rain. He supposed it was because in the rain no one could see you cry. Who would be able to discern the difference between raindrops and tear drops? Or maybe it was because you could be alone. Not many people visit the park in the rain. Especially to sit on the very same bench he did. \nSo maybe he went to be alone. He had felt so alone these past 4 years. This is the most he had ever thought about how things had changed for him. How he had changed. This is the first time he let himself remember that day.\nIt was not a rainy day. It was one of those warm summer evenings. You could hear the little frogs peeping in the pond. Maybe even an occasional rustle in the bushes. But besides that it was silent. He was sitting on the bench with her. Holding her in his arms as she rambled on about something she and her sister had planned for the upcoming weekend. He wasn’t listening. He was just absorbed in the moment. Letting the air push them together, where he knew he wanted to be. \nThe night had been so flawless. It was like a dream. They had gone to supper together at her favorite restaurant on the pier. After their meal they walked to her favorite spot, this bench. He touched his pocket and felt the little box. He interrupted her in a burst of confidence. She stopped and pulled away looking up at him. He was nervous but managed to find his one knee to the ground and ask her to marry him. Of course she said yes and a wave of relief washed over him. By this time the sun had gone down and the moon was rising so he decided it was time for him to bring her home. At her steps they said good night. He was watching her but as she was walking to the door she stopped. She turned around, he noticed a tear falling down her cheek, “I love you,” and she went inside.\nThat was 4 years ago. The last time he saw her. He tried to contact her and eventually sought information from her family but no one knew where she had gone. Still to this day no new discoveries had been made, her case was completely dismissed and he was left with nothing.\nHe now noticed the rain had stopped but he was still crying. He got up from the bench and tried to compose himself as best as possible as he thought, “Now back to life.”", "\"M...mom?\" I said in a quivering voice. \"Do you remember me?\" She looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes, her face the same as it was 6 months ago before the accident. She smiled at me, and a flower of hope blossomed in my chest. Perhaps she did recognize me. \n\n\"I'm sorry.. who are you?\" she said in an apologetic tone. Blood rushed into my ears as I sank to the floor. My eyes were blurred with tears. I felt two hands firmly grab me, and the nurse pulled me up. \n\nDad had warned me before I went inside the room. He had said that things would be different, but that I shouldn't give up hope. I had dismissed his concerns and thought nothing of them. \n\nAfter all, how can a mother forget her own son?\n", "He’s lost touch with the world.\n\nThe teachers call his parents with concern, because its gone past the point of simple make believe a child his age goes through. I don’t know which makes me sadder: the fact that I’ve lost him, or the fact that I envy how easy it was for him to lose himself. Make believe, so much better than the real world. Those kinds of things shouldn’t happen to kids, but they do. It happened to both of us. Being raised with an abusive parent, a mad man. Very mad. These things happen. The only difference between him and me is that I was born first. Old enough to run away, but not enough to take him with me. They tell me he asks for me, but I don’t think I’ll visit. Knowing him, or how he used to be, he would ask me how to make the voices and nightmares go away. I haven’t figured it out yet.\n", "\"Remember David, don't be shy. Stand up straight, this is very important to the family.\" My mother said to me whilst brushing off my clothes. I was nervous, I had known love in the form of a poor girl who worked for her father in the market. However, I was forbidden from seeing her. \"Families like that do not mix with ours\" My father had told me, tears rushing down my face from the lashing I'd received. I never saw that girl again, but I will never forget her face. I think about her every waking second, about them pulling us apart. About the last time I was ever truly happy. Would I feel this way with the girl whom I'd been arranged with? I opened the door and walked into the room. She was standing there, nervous as well, her face red. She had obviously been crying. \"Hello, my name is Ashley\" she muttered out unable to look into my eyes. I greeted her back but felt nothing but emptiness inside. I did not instantly fall in love with her but maybe, one day, we would grow to enjoy each other's company. We were to be married in two months time and it was decided that we should meet and get to know one another. We spent the next two months learning about the other and got married just as our parents wished. We both gave it our best shot at love but I could not forget the girl from the market, she too had someone on her mind. I asked her one particularly dreary morning, \"Who is it that you love? I know I am not that person, neither you mine but I must find out who your heart truly belongs to.\" She started to weep, and then for the first time, she looked me in the eyes. She looked at me with tears falling off her cheeks and said \"I love a boy from a lower class then I, when I found I was to be married I left him so as not to upset the family. I ran into him at the market yesterday. He had married a poor girl who's father worked there and they seemed truly happy together.\" My eyes began to water. Not because my wife and I did not love one another. Not because our parents kept us from the one's we did love. But because both of our loves had found true happiness, these were tears of joy.", "Happiness means sacrifice. It doesn't necessarily mean success. Happiness doesn't always mean victories. Sometimes, happiness comes at the price of a bitter defeat. Sometimes, happiness comes at the price of a great sadness. Yet, even after all the sadness and the losses… happiness arrives. Unceremoniously and suddenly. \n\nElla believed that happiness would come one day. She’s one of those people who believe that everything happens for a reason. When she told everyone in her grade nine class that she would someday go to Harvard, some called her an optimist. When she struggled throughout high school to just pass, some teachers called her hopeless. When she ran off with her boyfriend to go to Boston to be closer to Harvard, her parents called her a dreamer. Ella, however, thought herself to be a fighter. A warrior, even. She proudly wore her hard earned battle scars.\n\nShe worked two full time jobs. She attended a local college part time. When she left her boyfriend, she found her own place. When her old car broke down, she learned how to pay for it when she couldn't afford to get it fixed. When a faucet leaked or her computer broke down, she learned how to fix those as well. She fought for her independence. She won. \n\nSometimes, the victory would feel bitter. She spent the past Christmas alone for the first time in her life. The last time she heard from her parents was when her mother sent her a letter to break the news that her father had passed away. Pangs of loneliness ached in her heart when she heard her upstairs neighbours going at it in a passionate bout of love making. \n\nShe won that battle as well. She remembered the first time he hit her. He said he was sorry. She remembered when he cheated on her. He said it didn't mean anything. He said he was sorry. He’s told her “sorry” countless times after that. Before she stormed out of their apartment, she slapped him as hard she could. She looked at him in the eyes and told him,\n\n“I’m not sorry”. \n\nElla touched her belly. Her last victory wasn't just hers. No, from now on, Ella would be fighting for two. Ella blocked out her upstairs neighbours. She didn't have much; but what she did have, she earned it through her hard work. Ella went to bed, content and happy.\n\nA few days later, Ella collapsed at work from an intense pain in her lower stomach. She was cold all over. Her co-workers told her she looked pale. They called an ambulance, but Ella couldn't remember much after that.\n\nShe woke up in a hospital bed, her mother asleep in a chair next to her. \nElla touched her belly.\n\nSomething was wrong.\n\n“Mom?” she whispered weakly.\n\n“Oh! Ella! Baby, I’m so glad you’re alive. How are you feeling, sweetheart?” her mother asked, coming closer to hold her hand.\n\n“Mom…my baby…”\n\nHer mom’s face dropped. Ella’s eyes began to burn. Her hands shook and trembled. \n\n“Oh… Ella… honey…sweetheart,” her mother began.\n\nHappiness means sacrifice. It doesn't necessarily mean success. Happiness doesn't always mean victories. Sometimes, happiness comes at the price of a bitter defeat. Sometimes, happiness comes at the price of a great sadness. Yet, even after all the sadness and the losses… happiness arrives. Unceremoniously and suddenly. \n\nElla once believed that happiness would come one day. A year after her miscarriage, Ella realized that she had to find happiness herself. She couldn't wait for happiness to come for her anymore. Ella went outside to the rooftop of her building and she jumped off the edge. \n\nUnceremoniously and suddenly. \n", " She walks down the aisle white\n\n And she cries\n\n Not because she loves him\n\n But because she does not\n\n(Opted for something simple this time).", "\"Can I hold her?\"\n\nTears in his eyes, he lifts the tiny bundle and hands her to me.\n\n\"Hello baby,\" I croon, \"Mommy's going to tell you a story.\"\n\nI brush a tiny hair off her forehead, and swaddle her more tightly in her blanket.\n\n*Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess.*\n\n*Her mother the queen and her father the king were so happy when she was born.*\n\n*They threw a party and invite all the fairies in the land. All but one.*\n\nI hear my voice through a fog, as I tell my daughter her first fairy tale. Sleeping beauty. I gaze done and her eyes are closed. She can't hear me.\n\nI finish the story anyway.\n\n*The princess pricked her finger and fell into a deep sleep. She would sleep so long that no one now alive outside the castle would be alive when she woke.*\n\n*While she slept, vines grew up around the castle, and around the hearts of all those she loved. The ivy covered them and sent them to rest with her.*\n\n\nThe whole day was surreal. My life was surreal. How could anyone ever imagine something so intense.\n\nLove for this tiny baby swelled my heart till I thought I might choke on it. A sob caught in my throat.\n\n*... the end.*\n\nA man stood over me. I attempted to meet his gaze. \"It's time,\" he said.\n\nI nodded slowly, barely comprehending.\n\nI took a deep breath and looked down at my baby girl. Then, gently laying a kiss on her purple-blue lips, I laid her back in her coffin and walked away.\n ", "I will never, ever tell her.\n\nI'll never tell her how, the day we walked through the doors of Walker County High School, she was the only person who said hello to the new kid, me. Not about how, for the next four years, she was the only one who said hello, every day, to the antisocial kid, me. As much as she'd love to hear it, she'll never know how she was the one who pulled me from the brink in senior year after my parents died, or how, when the college entrance essays asked you about your \"role model,\" I filled pages with descriptions of her contagious enthusiasm, her compassion, or her zest for knowledge.\n\nI'll never tell her how I won that scholarship to MIT. I said I'd been rejected, and even the DUI settlement wasn't enough to pay for tuition anywhere besides Walker County Community College. No way I'd tell her the truth that, when I heard she hadn't made it into Juliard or her backups, I'd called the admissions counselor as soon as I found a phone to tell them I'd changed my mind. She'll never know that she was the reason I stayed home, in backwater Walker County.\n\nI'll never tell her how, that autumn day ten years ago, I fell in love. I can't tell her how stopping by her diner for my morning coffee is the highlight of my day, or how whenever she laughs at one of my lame jokes my soul is set on fire. I've never told her just how her laugh is so warm that it made a summer day seem chilly, or how the little upturn in her smile whenever she gets a crazy idea makes my mind go blank.\n\nI'll never tell her that I know she feels the same way about me.\n\nI'll never tell her for the same reasons that I never told her about my dad's genetic curse, or about the hospital bills that keep growing by the week no matter how much I cut from my grocery budget, or about how the doctors are naming the disease after me. She can never know that the coffee and donut I compliment her on every morning just come back up an hour later, no matter what pills they give me. She doesn't know that every morning I spend with her is in defiance of a thousand case studies, and that every night I update my will just in case I don't wake up the next morning. \n\nI can't bear for her to know. So I will never, ever tell her." ]

[ 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 14, 23 ]

[ "1401380437", "1401333001", "1401344177", "1401366285", "1401373172", "1401333735", "1401360598", "1401331011", "1401331746", "1401336919", "1401331653", "1401331719", "1401326429", "1401330134", "1401327818" ]

[ "\"Boooo!\"", "I kind of vomited this out. Enjoy.\n_________________________________________________________\n\nI was used to being ignored. I had grown to accept being forgotten, even. I remember the days when teachers would fail to recall I was even there in the classroom; I would simply sit and struggle with the work presented to me, my calls for assistance so rarely answered. My voice had always been weak, lacking in presence, like the person that it was the product of.\n\nThough I had felt myself a spectre for much of my life, I never had guessed that I was honestly a ghost. At the graduation ceremony, as I waited, I heard the name of student after student being called. But never my own. I waited patiently for my name to be called. God, just to hear my name-- I almost forgot what it felt like to hear it pronounced. Would I even recognize it? But it never came. As the area cleared out, and the school grounds were silent, I stood there alone, still waiting for something. Still waiting to be acknowledged.\n\nFor how long have I been dead, I wondered? That's what I asked when it had finally hit me, when my mind broke out of the trance of waiting, and I looked down at my own body just to make sure I was real, that I was all there. I was not. My hands, my limbs, my entire body, gone. I could not see any of what I had known to be me. Yet I could see. And so here I was-- a consciousness without a body. Is that what I've been all this time? No, now I really was gone, beyond saving. Before there had always been the hope. But now I truly was far gone, as though to the other side of existence. \n\nMy physical body, in those days prior, was truly the only thing that I felt connected me to reality, to the outer world. I would often come home to stare in the mirror in passing, perceiving each line of my face and try to decide whether I was human or not. Just to affirm that I really did have a body. But now, that body was gone; it'd left me, and my mind was all I had left. What a cruel fate, because I had begun to loathe this mind, and I clung to this foolish idea that maybe, after abandoning the school I had spent so many miserable years in, I could flee my old mind for a new one that I could stand.\n\nBut now only my internal world and all of it's thoughts accompanied me. Cut so abruptly from the world that I had long been an intruder in, I could do nothing but wander and observe the creatures go on with their daily lives. I began to disassociate myself from them entirely; I was not human anymore. But the odd thing, was that I felt free. For once, I felt no shame; I no longer felt like I was a burden on the world. Because now, I was solitary in my own plane, looking in on my old home. I no longer felt ashamed to walk through the towns, because I felt confidence in that no one could ever know who I am.\n\nI no longer had to compile plans for a future in a world that did not want or need me; a world that held nothing for me, and that I came to desire nothing from. After so many months of travel, in my state of formlessness, it dawned on me that I had never expected to live at all. I was born to be an outsider; one who does not care for his own body or mind, but for the very worlds he observes and passes through. I no longer felt any loss, because I felt that I was never meant to be a part of anything anyway. I was never meant even to be a part of myself.\n\nMaybe one day I'll die on this plane, and that will be the end of it. Or maybe I won't die, and I will live on forever; observing, learning, moving on through the streets and the homes and the forests and the oceans. I can honestly say it does not matter to me at all; because, here, living and dying are both just as simple to do. They are both the same thing. " ]

[ 1, 2 ]

[ "1401396310", "1401385661" ]

[ "I was a scientist at heart. I say was because I lost my curiosity decades ago. Eventually I found out it was the parlor, it only worked in the parlor. I once gave someone super intelligence to help me work out *why* but that didn't- you know what? That's not important.\n\nSee the real clincher is this - I started off trying to do good things. As an idealistic youth I gave people powers that would better the world. Before I knew it I was giving other people powers to stop the first batch from destroying everything. I know what you're thinking but eventually I managed to stop that cycle.\n\nNow I only give fun powers. Last week I drew a tumble weed on someone's back... whenever she wants she can make everyone in a room think the speaker is incredibly boring.\n\nI'll admit sometimes I'm a little mean. You'd think super speed would be really fun, wouldn't you? It builds though. You start moving so fast that the blink of an eye feels like an hour. Then you can't sit still and eventually BOOM you crash into a wall and die.\n\nSit still or it's going to hurt. What? I did that speed thing to a deadbeat who skipped town on his kids. Just to help him run a bit faster next time.\n\nDon't squirm, I'm done.\n\nNow I know you said you wanted a unicorn surfing a rainbow through a leprechaun... but that's not quite what you got.\n\nWhat's that? You'll need to speak up I can't hear you. Of you want to know what I drew instead? Let me get you a mirror. See that, that's a picture of a cat who happens to be holding onto your tongue. ", "This dude came into my shop one time. Something about him seemed...off. Like, he looked normal and acted normal and everything, but something about the way he carried himself gave me the impression that...and I don't want to be too judge-y...but he just didn't seem very happy, like he had too many shitty days in a row and life is just too much. I know that feeling.\n\nHe was nervous. He said he'd never gotten a tattoo before. His friend (I don't think they're dating), came along with him, giving him some moral support. I told him that I'd try to make everything go as smoothly as possible for him. He thanked me and I asked him if he knew what he wanted.\n\nHe asked me if I've ever read 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime.'\n\nI've never even heard of it. He went on to explain that it was his favorite book. Apparently, it's about some retard kid who trying to solve a dog murder mystery. Interesting, I guess.\n\nHe said the main character likes the color red, and if he sees 3 in a row, then he will have a good day. So he wants me to tattoo 3 red cars on him. Easy enough. I gave him my quote, and he said he had the money on him now. So I was off to work on him. Specifically his bicep. He has a drawing of the cartoon-ish car that he wanted. \n\nSo there he is, sitting in the chair and squirming. His friend is sitting off to the side, half paying attention and playing some dragon game on her phone. \n\nThe tattoo doesn't take too long to finish. It was pretty simple. A few lines and some red ink and bam, done. He got off the chair and examined his arm. \n\nAnd then he smiled, which I don't think I saw him do all fucking day. He just stood there, beaming and his arm, then his friend, then me. He paid and then he left, walking out the door with a little bounce in his step. I haven't seen him since. I hope he's doing well and having himself some good days. ", "Run with the wind,\nFly through the sky.\nDance with the wolves,\nOr let time pass you by.\n\nAs big as a tree,\nAs small as an ant.\nSell me your soul\nAnd your wish, I shall grant.\n\nThe ink in my gun,\n\"Magic!\" you might say.\nBut in my opinion,\nIt's just another day.\n\nNow you feel depressed,\nCraving for joy and smiles of glee.\nSo young and so naive,\nHoping to feel happy and feel free.\n\nWhen all is said and done,\nYou're nothing but years to me.\nThe \"powers\" never work quit right\nMy trick to stay so healthy.\n\nSoon your body will end,\nAnd consciousness begin.\nScreams of pain and torment,\nas you're woven into my skin.\n\nEvery single customer,\nA prisoner within my gun.\nFueling my own life,\nSo I may fuel temporary fun.\n\n\"What's that my friend?\"\n\"Powers are what you need?\"\n\"I've been around a while now,\nSo no worries, you won't even bleed.\"\n\n~Shazoosticka", "Reddit, be kind, this is my first time.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------\n\nI would love to say that I’m world-weary, or at least jaded, but when you have so much entertainment at your disposal, you can’t be anything else but slightly off-kilter, and willing to laugh at just about everything. See, I have a curse, or a gift (depending on your perspective). It wasn’t something that just happened, one day, but more over a period of several years. Apparently, my tattoos can come to life. No, that’s not right. They give life. No, that’s not right, either. Every tattoo I’ve done for the last seventeen years has in one way, or another, given someone, well……*abilities*.\n\n \n\nI italicized that to give emphasis. See, that creative writing class in third grade really did pay off. I wonder where Mrs. Pinkerton is now…… Anyways, *abilities* (see, there’s that creative writing again, folks!). I grew up a dreamer of sorts, reading all the Marvel, DC, Image, Dark Cow comics I could get my hands on. I was obsessed throughout my entire childhood with gaining superpowers. I would do my best to draw and write stories, trying to become like the greats: Stan Lee, Frank Miller, Neil Gaiman, way too many others to name. After a while, my drawings got better, and even in my teens I won a few contests. People would tell me how life-like my drawings and sketches were, how much they imitated what they would see in their minds. When I was studying in art school (yes, I was one of those kids), I found more and more that I could draw tattoos that people really loved, and got an internship at a really great parlor in downtown Raleigh. You might even recognize it (no, I’m not dumb enough to say the name, you’ve got to find it); it’s the little shop next to the bakery that always does these amazing(see, italics again!) wedding cakes for people.\n\n\n\nAfter a year or internship, I was allowed to rent my own chair, and do my own designs. To be honest, I was floored. To be in control of what goes onto a person’s skin, that’s a kind of power to enlighten, dedicate, and improve someone that few ever get to experience. Except me, of course. After the first few years, I noticed people would come back for more tattoos from mostly me, and I thought, “Why not? I’m an independent woman, I should open my own shop!” So, I did. Most of my clients came with me, and my old shop was sad to see me go, but I decided to do the intrepid thing (my gawd, that’s the first time I’ve used that word in serious conversation), and struck out on my own. Everything was going great, until about a year ago. There were people that wanted to come back for more designs, but would be REALLY vague, and it was tough getting nailed down what they wanted. It seemed like they wanted something very specific, but weren’t willing to tell me. It was all pretty mundane stuff, too: tigers, sleeves with flying men, voluptuous women on arms, concepts of steel for the guys, fairies and such for the women, and a bunch of other stuff I can’t even begin to rattle off, because I just don’t have the time.\n\n\n\nIt wasn’t until people started being really vague that I’d just tell them outright that they can find a new artist if they won’t work with me that I found out what my tattoos were doing to people; subtly, over the years, but with increasing frequency, until it’s all the same, now. My tattoos give abilities. I’m not talking run-of-the-mill normal stuff, either. The chick that wanted barbed wire on her ankle, she can whip it off her skin like it was real, and it’s almost three feet long. That older fella that wanted me to fill in his armband with “clouds” can make a whole room fog up in an instant. The real young guy that wanted lightning on his back apparently makes breakers and fuses pop everywhere he goes. The woman last fall, even, with a dragon on her hips, well, you can imagine what her “time of the month” is like.\n\nAnd you really want me to put “that” drawing of Mickey on your butt?\n", "I looked at the walk-in with disdain, and a little pity. Unkempt beard, greasy hair, crooked teeth as he flashed a self-conscious smile...I could already tell what it would be. He pulled off his ragged ballcap and began a familiar chatter.\n\n\"So you're the uh, the *Artist*?\" the man said, wrinkling his hat in his hands.\n\n\"You got it boyo. You'll be wanting a temp?\"\n\nHe nodded emphatically.\n\nOne hour later it was done. As he waved on his way out, I caught the syringe tattoo emptying and evaporating. It's funny, they always said tattoos were addictive.", "I only wanted to do this because of Tmoore4748, thanks for inspiration.\n____________________________________________________________\n\nI gave life. It was beautiful in the beginning. I learned how to draw when I was so young. I was always so fascinated by the curve in a line, or by the beauty in hard rectangle. Everything seemed so interesting back then. Every dot could tell me a story. Every line a life. But as I grew I needed more. Everything I touched needed to be more. It started simply. Little by little until I was filling entire books with the best drawing I could. I didn't bother much with anything else at that point. It didn't seem worthwhile. Until I grew bored. I wanted more than paper. I wanted something living, but I saw no way to get it. So I stopped drawing.\n\nYet as the years past and I entered college I remembered my origins. I found my way into a little room in the back of the art school and saw tattoos for the first time. I saw what it looked like to etch upon human flesh. I saw life and movement in simplistic drawings. I knew I could make it more in that moment.\n\nI became consumed within months. Everything I did revolved around etching upon leather. I was unwilling to do less than perfection upon a living canvas. I had to be the best first.\n\nMy friend underwent my needle first. He was the first one. The one I remember most. He wanted it simple a lightning bolt arching across his shoulder. However the moment I touched his skin with my needle I couldn't see the design. I only knew the emotion. The truth in the drawing itself. I wanted it to be as electric as the principle itself. I don't remember stopping. I don't even remember him saying anything during it, yet in the end I thought it was perfect. It honestly took his breath away. \n\n\nI thought that would be it. The drawing and the life I had sacrificed would end when I removed the needle. His love for it was beautiful, but in truth I only cared about the artwork. I wanted it to be the best and it was. The way the stroke of lightning moved through the clouds was breathtaking. It seemed to move every time he his heart beat. It took us a while to see what happened next. It started slowly. A few micro shocks here a few there. Then he fried his computer. He didn't understand what was happening, but I felt oddly involved. I tried to ignore it until the entire city block went out. I tried to ignore it even when the phone rang with his voice crying out that I help him. Even as he explained how he had gotten furious at a guy near some random club. The way the lights had flickered even as he stuck wasn't enough to warn him. I almost dropped the phone when he finally told me how the entire block had gotten black when he actually stuck the dude. It seemed stupid. Until he told me the way the eletricity flowed out of the lights into him. Arching across the sky to touch his skin. Touch where I had brought life. \n\n\nI swore of art for a while after that. I felt responsible for his actions. For his arrogance when he called me. I even felt responsible when he died. I should of seen the way he acted was a sign. He eventually fell to the cops when they came for him. It took a toll on the force but all was quiet afterwards. Until my girlfriend asked for one. She swore she was worth it. That if I loved her I should give her the most beautiful rose in the world, carved upon her own flesh. I remember smiling even though I was scared. I didn't really want to work, but my body was craving it. I vaguely remember the way her rose seemed to flicker as she smiled. The way it curved across her neck. I felt weaker but it was worth it, for her. \n\n\nIt didn't take nearly as long to change her. Her garden was more beautiful by the day. She didn't tell me anything important until it was to late though. Her skin was turning green under all the clothing. I wondered why she had been hiding so much. I was almost sad to be craving another canvas, but the beauty was worth it. \n\nThe way the ink flowed from there was astonishing. Each person that lined up at my door was given a new piece of art to walk away with. But I didn't feel as satisfied anymore. I was growing bored again, bored and weak. I kept going at first, one after another. I think I hit over a hundred before I actually craved more. That's when I started pouring myself into the work. I don't know why I did it but at some point I put my own blood in the ink. The ink became so much more at that point. It drew better than the finest quills, in any color I desired. I think I did ten like that. Ten gorgeous drawings etched in human skin. I was too tired after that.\n\n\nBut those ten became gods in my new world. I don't remember when I knew what I could do but they proved it. I was the true creator in this existence. It was all up to me. Ten people hand chosen at my own door. Ten of the best individuals each gifted with the ability of their own choosing. Some could even create their own new life. It was perhaps my greatest creation. But even with whimpering breaths I wanted more. I wanted myself. \n\n\nI remember turning the needle on my own arms, my neck, my legs. Anything I could reach became a canvas of life, until I had done everything. Everything in the robes that men had always feared. My greatest canvas hugged my figure, etched in the color of darkness. I was tired of creation. I wanted to take things back now. I wanted to bring things with me. I wanted to collect the perfect beauty. I wanted life itself to be mine. No I wanted to destroy it. I remember now, I wanted to undo it all. I wanted art to end. The perfection of life to unravel. Yet the very tool of creation wasn't enough, far too small. \n\n\nWonder if I could draw a scythe with these bony fingers...", "The latest client was a nervous man in his mid-forties, his face red from the bitter cold of Chicago winter, his black hair thinning after years of apparent stress. His curious stare made a long sweep around my little shop before meeting my own eyes. \n\nIt was clear he had never been in a tattoo parlor before, especially one like mine. He had a distressed air about him, the opposite of my usual clientele of spoiled young suburbanites and Superman fan-boys that showed like packs of wolves looking to see if the tales were true.\n\nMost of those types of clients I turned away due to my own code of ethics. Through trial and error I had come to consider myself a solid judge of who would handle the responsibilities my tattoos entailed and who would crash and burn.\n\nThe man before me now seemed to be of a different breed than those who came to my shop for a thrill or a dare. There was a desperate look about him that I liked to see in my clients. Desperation always meant a good tale, and usually an interesting power as well that could test my always-developing skills.\n\nIt’s never really been about the money you see; if it were I’d have become the equivalent of a superpower crack dealer long ago. For me, it’s always been about the stories. People need to convince me they *need* the power, not simply that they want it. Call me selfish, call me an asshole, but when I’m the one holding the needle, we play by my rules.\n\nWordlessly, I motioned the man over to sit on a nearby sofa while I worked on my current client, a woman who had nearly drowned in a cruise-ship accident a few months ago. I delicately placed the needle to her skin as the man sunk into the couch. He stared inquiringly as I slowly perfected my latest artwork.\n\nAfter I finished with the client, who began admiring the pair of inked gills on her neck in a nearby mirror, I turned my attention to the awkward man on the sofa.\n\nAt this point he was clearly uncomfortable, and might have even had second thoughts if I hadn’t called him over. He laid back uneasily on the chair where I did my work, and waited for me to give him instruction.\n\nAfter a moment of awkward silence, he finally realized I was waiting for him to talk.\n\n“I…I heard you could give people tattoos,” he muttered, head bent low.\n\nI scoffed at the simplicity of that statement.\n\n“Well this is a tattoo parlor,” I responded cheerfully. I wasn’t about to let him in that easily, especially since I still received a fair share of customers that actually just wanted a tattoo. For all I knew, he could have been in the midst of a mid-life crisis and was trying to scare his wife into sleeping with him again.\n\n“I meant…you see…I heard you could give people *special* tattoos,” he mumbled, trying to get the message across.\n\n“All tattoos can be special,” I replied. Despite feeling a bit sorry for the guy, I liked to have my fun with clients. “It just depends on how the person being inked feels about them.”\n\n“No, you know what I mean,” he said, clearly getting flustered. “I heard you could give people powers.”\n\nAh. The magic word. Just was I was waiting to hear.\n\n“I see,” I said, preparing for my favorite part. “And why would a man like you have need for powers?”\n\nThe man paused, contemplating whether to share his story. I leaned forward in anticipation, pondering what kind of tale the nervous man would spin. It always was always my belief that the origin story held twice as much fun as the actual powers themselves.\n\n“My wife was the love of my life,” he began. “We married at 22, after meeting during our freshman year of college. She wore the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. It was the happiest day of my life.”\n\nThe man paused, emotion surfacing in his pale eyes. After a few moments he continued.\n\n“Two months ago a man broke into our home. He took as much as he could and then shot my wife in the chest. She has been in a coma ever since. I’ve found the man who did this. Apparently he has a heroin addiction. He shot the person I care most about just to get a fix.”\n\nThe man shook his head in disbelief.\n\n“You’d like to hurt him,” I interjected, preparing to turn this man down. One of my cardinal rules was that my powers would not directly cause harm.\n\n“No,” the man responded immediately, as if shocked by what I was suggesting. “I’d like to heal him. That man’s addiction is what destroyed my family. If you can give me the power to destroy that addiction, it will be enough to honor her.”\n\nI was taken aback, and at first could not think of how to help this man. After a few moments of thought, the idea suddenly came to me. I gently grabbed the man’s arm, wiped it with a sterilizing pad, and brought the needle to his skin. He flinched initially when the pain first hit, but soon became numb to it. I wasn’t surprised. The man’s story taught me he was clearly used to pain.\n\nAfter what seemed like seconds of work, I revealed my creation to the man. On his pale skin lay an exact copy of my needle, inked in shades of black and blue.\n\n“Think of it as the cure to others’ pain,” I explained.\n\nThe man nodded, placed a few twenties in my hand, and left without a word. \n\nYou see it’s never about the money with me. It’s always been about the stories. And I love a good ending.\n", "\"Anything?\"\n\n\"Anything.\" The man sat down, pulling his shirt off to reveal a body that had seen abused, from the inside and out. It was clear that he had been a cutter at some point, probably after some point he had stopped being physically abused by whoever he was with, be it a lover, a parent, someone. Scars littered his flesh, burns, tears, bullet holes even, years of torment, lightly faded yet bold enough not to ignore. Some of the scars on his arms were old track marks, veins torn and collapsed, leaving thin blackened lines, permanently etched on the inside of his arms. The redden eyes, the shaking hands, the light sweat on his brow, all signs of something I had seen firsthand hand.\n\nI changed my equipment, donning new gloves as I moved to his upper arm, a design already set in my head. With the pen in my hand, I went to work, carefully watching the man lean back and relax the best he could, his brow furrowed either in deep contemplation or an attempt to relieve the throbbing pain that buried itself inside his skull. \n\nThe simple goblet was easy enough to draw, at least the main piece, getting the details right would be the task. With the gun in my hand, I started, concentrating on both design and recipient, making sure that both remained in the best condition while under my hands. Gold and black, little details to make it come to life. I had to make sure that this was right, he needed this and I wasn't about to about to fail someone who could use the help.\n\n\"When was your last drink?\" An eye creaked opened, slowly focusing on me before falling back close. A sigh, heavy with years of guilt attached to it, slipped from his lips followed by a grim chuckle.\n\n\"Barely a two days ago...\"\n\n\"How many times have you tried to stop?\"\n\n\"Too many.\" Another laugh, this time lighter than the first one, sounded. \"Is it that obvious?\"\n\n\"To someone who is sitting on a ten year coin, yes.\" The silence returned over the two of us, the repeating needle the only thing echoing in the small shop. I finished before the clock struck 1 AM, sitting back to admire the work I had created in less than an hour. The detailed goblet with a cross section, making it look as if the cup would empty. The gold and black nearly shone in the dim light, and it was my turn to smile. \"I think you'll fine yourself just fine.\"\n\nHe twisted to look, his thick eyebrow raising up, silently questioning what I had given him. \"Okay... I'm lost. What is it.?\"\n\n\"A Pythagorean cup. Fill it with a bit of alcohol and you're fine. Too much and all of it drains out.\" Wiping away the last bit of extra ink, I moved to put my things away.\n\n\"...well, I did say anything.\" He reached for his wallet, still unsure of what to think of the tattoo, but I shook my head.\n\n\"Don't worry about it. It was my pleasure.\"\n\n\"You sure?\"\n\n\"I am.\" I stood, heading towards a small refrigerator I had in the back, my boots clicking on the tile. \"Sit still for a bit. Don't want you passing out after all of that. Can I get you anything to drink?\" Grabbing a soda for myself, I waited for his answer, letting the magic sink in, hoping that I had done a good enough job to have the desired effect.\n\n\"Yeah... got a bottle of water or something?\"\n\n-094" ]

[ 2, 2, 2, 3, 8, 9, 33, 44 ]

[ "1401431879", "1401446016", "1401446087", "1401419462", "1401425397", "1401425501", "1401425092", "1401423041" ]

[ "The dull heartbeat of the underground matched my own as I stared at my book, not really reading it, just using it as something to look at when I am not looking at the next station. Green Park, Piccadilly, then Leicester, I’d be home. The train starts to slow down, Green Park. Only two more to go, I look at my watch, still the same time as when I last looked. I look around the carriage, grey faces and grey suits, lifeless eyes staring into nothing. I look past the soul crushing boredom to see them, the monsters, and they are far more interesting. One great purple octopus creature lounges on the ceiling, every visible surface covered in eyes. Two small red children, bloated bellies and spindly arms are hiding beneath the chairs. I smile as a gigantic kaleidoscopic lion sprawled on the floor snores heavily with its luscious belly presented to the air, asking me to stroke it. As he breathes, a grey man’s newspaper flutters.\n\nPiccadilly.\n\nJust one more stop. I used to be afraid of them, when I was younger. That seems so foolish now, most of them are harmless, almost like children. The red goblins under the chairs have started taking it in turns to pull at the lion’s tail, then run back under the chairs. After one particularly vicious pull the lion jolts awake, his massive form shaking the whole train. The greys grasp the handles and lean against the movement, oblivious to its origin.\n\nLeicester Square, mine.\n\nI stand in front of the doors, press the button. The doors open, coincidence. I step off and make my way up the platform, up the stairs. My footsteps match my heart as I rush towards the barriers, as close to running as walking will allow.\n\nUp a street, down an alley, I ignore an old man being eaten by crimson locusts, they have been eating him for days. Open door, up stairs. Open door, and I am home.\n\nI breathe a sigh of relief, and look around my apartment. Three rooms, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom, no floor space, but it was home. It was mine. I throw my book on the singular counter and flump down onto the bed. That should wake him. I have to wait only a few seconds until I see seven long green fingers grip the edge of the bed, they haul up a long thin arm followed by an almost skeletal body, green skin tight across the bones like a drum. The face above is eerily human, but for the lack of eyes. I’m not looking at his eyes, I’m looking at his mouth, the warm smile of a friend, my only friend.\n\nHe drags himself closer, revealing his lower half, or lack thereof. His long fingers stroke my face, remembering who I am, and his smile grows once more. I hold his hand as it tries to retreat, and kiss each fingertip in turn, my lips lingering on the last. With that he moves as quick as lightning, closing the gap between his lips and mine. His fingers in my hair, his body pressed against mine. I return the favour, my tongue slips against his, my teeth clash against his. Too excited, too rushed. We laugh, I hate my laugh but his is like velvet. WE kiss again, slower this time, on my part it is to savour the moment, on his part it is because he is concentrating with his other hand behind my back, seven fingers does not make a bra strap easier. Finally he is victorious and he stops kissing my mouth, he plants one on my neck. He kisses a little lower. A little lower. A button of my shirt needs removing. Another kiss. Another button. Another kiss. Another button. Kiss, button, kiss, button, kiss. One more button, he darts his tongue into it and I laugh, he knows that I will but he does it every single time. His seven fingers roll their way up my back, tangling my blouse in my arms above my head, I close my eyes as a wave of warmth rises through me.\n\nA screech echoes in my ears, I open my eyes and am confronted by a half naked woman with eagle’s wings and beak ripping my love from me. She had burst from the cupboard and had now grabbed Buddy by the shoulders and smashed him against the wall. Once, twice. He managed to grasp her throat with one of his hands and started to crush. Panic entered her eyes as she squawked, clawing at where Buddy’s own eyes should be. She bit at his wrist with her razor sharp beak but it was too late, she was too weak. They both fell on the bed beside me in a flurry of feathers and blows.\n\nA deafening crack signalled the end of the show. The harpy lay quite lifeless on the bed. Buddy cracked his own neck, rolled his shoulder and gave me his wonderful grin.\n\nI went to him, freeing my arms from my grey suit and we entangled ourselves in each other, caring not a whit for the corpse we shared a bed with. We were monsters after all.\n", "My mind drifted somewhere between sleep and the slow ballad trickling out from my ear buds, I was immersed in that transient space that your mind occupies between wakefulness and exhaustion. My thoughts teetered unsteadily on the cliff of coherence and were gradually beginning to drop off. That’s when I heard it. Not a dramatic thud, or a theatrical clank, no this was a much more subtle noise. It wasn’t the sound’s volume that shook me so deeply, but rather its eerie familiarity. A gentle whoosh followed by a slight thump. My body jerked upon hearing it, an involuntary reaction that I wish I could have prevented. Suddenly awake, and feeling the tingle of every nerve ending, I tried desperately to grasp at straws of logic. “What was that?” “Where have I heard that before?” Unable to answer, I laid as still as possible, my heart still pounding. I began hypothesizing, frustrated with inconclusive theories. As the minutes passed and the consoling silence returned to my room my heart regained a slow and steady cadence. I chuckled softly to myself at how preposterously I had reacted. “For God sakes, I’m 17 years old.” I thought “I’m ridiculous”. I stuffed the ear buds back into my ears, allowing the sound to fill my thought space. I drifted off to sleep.\nMy eyes shot open. Suddenly alert again, and certain that something had just caressed my arm I blinked forcefully trying to recognize the objects in my room that were cloaked in a veil of darkness. One by one my possessions came into focus, a dresser, my laptop, my purse. I continued to slowly scan the room. “I don’t remember leaving the closet door open, huh.” Content that nothing seemed terribly out of place, I convinced myself that I must have dreamt the touch. I closed my eyes and then slowly I turned over. Just as I resigned myself to returning to dreamland I heard it again “whoosh…thump”. A sudden lump in my throat, I debated whether or not to open my eyes. I had to know. What was this familiar sound? In an instant I opened my eyes again and rolled toward the direction of the noise.\nWhen my eyes met his I couldn’t breathe. A sudden rush of emotions, I felt paralyzed. A mix of fear, déjà vu, and confusion swept over me. His inhuman face was strangely familiar and inexplicably beautiful. I sat motionless trying to comprehend the figure before me. He grinned a gentle grin. A flood of memories saturated my brain and unconsciously I relaxed my body. “Hello Ben” I said with a groggy smile. “Hi Liz” he replied, his voice much deeper than I remembered.\nImaginary friends are the currency of creative childhood play. Some children have many and cast off old ones easily in order to create new playmates. Some have many and maintain them simultaneously, makes for a great tea party. And others have just one that they invest all their time in, creating rich detailed friends, and elaborate worlds in which to dwell, that was me. Some kids fear the monster under the bed. I married him.\nBen leaned in and silently wrapped me in a comforting embrace, and I relished the feeling of his long lost arms. The moment was fleeting though. As Ben began to slowly back away, I recognized a look of concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong Ben?” I asked gently. Ben looked at me contemplatively before saying “Liz, I don’t know how to tell you this…do you remember how rich and elaborate the worlds were that we created together?” I nodded inquisitively. “Well” ben explained “those worlds were so elaborate, that they somehow took on a tangible form, and spawned other worlds and monsters well beyond what you and I created.” Ben paused then said hesitantly “do you remember Rutherio?” I shook my head in dismay recalling the ruthless monster we banished to the world inside the closet. “You see” ben said “for the last nine years I have struggled to keep our worlds from breeching yours” I nodded struggling to comprehend what Ben was telling me. “Rutherio has grown angry and bitter about his banishment” Ben said. “Rutherio is determined to take you as his bride Liz, which will allow him to permanently bridge the gap between your world and ours.” “The only thing that stands in his way is me.” Ben explained, and I looked at him puzzled. “We may have only been six years Liz, but you created me out of love, and in our world that makes our marriage valid.” “Now it’s the only thing standing between us and Rutherio’s nefarious plot.” Ben said. “Will you help me Liz? Time is running out…” I nodded to him emphatically.\nBEEP. BEEP. BEEP. I rolled over to shut my alarm off and opened my eyes to see sunlight seeping through my bedroom curtains. “Woohoo! Dream within a dream!” I thought to myself.\n", "Vultric's six arms laid limp over the thin leather couch. It wasn't too comfortable. Every few seconds he reminded himself of that fact. His twelve eyes were closed, dreaming of a better time. There was a fan in the room. Every few seconds it blew Vultric's thick fur around. He hated it. \n\n\"Can we turn it off?\" He asked. \n\nHis eyes opened and he looked at a balding creature who sat across from him. The creature, Dr. Greox, didn't speak. He never spoke. Vultric ignored Greox and stood up on his six legs. It took a few strides, but he reached the fan and shut it off. Then he returned to the couch. \n\n\"As I was saying. This is the third time she's hugged him this week.\" With his eyes closed Vultric imagined Amy, the human girl whom he became familiar with over the past few years. \"You know, this all happened because of the father. Back when she had the Princess Mattress it was fine.\" \n\nVultric's situation, like many other closet creatures, was dire. The human who inhabited his room was changing. Every few years her bed changed. With a new bed, came a new neighbor. Normally the monsters under the bed were quite normal. They understood the game. You wait for the lights to go out. Then you scare. There was no cuddling, no hugs, no friendship with the human. But this guy. This big hunk of fur wasn't scary. No. He was deemed \"Adoreable.\" \n\nVultric sat up on his couch. \n\n\"I should kill him.\" Vultric though to himself. It truly was the only way. \n\nSuddenly Vultric stood up. He left the couch and exited the room. He was back in his home. Fresh human clothes brushed against his unwelcoming fur as he crept through the corridors of the closet. Finally he was at the door. He pushed it open ever so slightly. \n\nVultric moved out of his home and into the battlefield. The only sentry, a fairy nightlight stood guard near the bed. He crawled forward along the carpet. Toys scattered and blocked his way, so he mere climbed over them. Then he was where he needed to be. The entrance to the bed. He snuck under some sheets that hid that creature. \n\nThe covers touched his fur as he entered his enemies fortress. He was there. Standing in front of him, next to a snickers candy wrapper. Quickly Vultric launched himself at his enemy. With his twin fangs he sank himself into his enemies back. It was all going according to plan. Then that creature pushed Vultric up against the bed. Smack! The bed moved. Yet still Vultric's bite held firm. \n\n\"Amy!\" A voice broke the trance of battle. Footsteps came racing across the hallway floor. The door opened and the lights flickered on. The footsteps became louder as something approached the bed. Suddenly the covered were whisked up and Amy looked directly into her fathers face. \"Hunny it's bed time.\" He said. \n\nAmy groaned and dropped her toys. She crawled out from under the bed and brushed off the dust that was on her pajamas. Then she leaped into bed and dragged the covers over her. Her father leaned in and kissed her goodnight. \n\n\"Go to sleep.\" He said closing the door. \n\n\"Fine.\" She fired back. \n\nAmy's eyes closed and darkness once again came upon the room. The only light came from the fairy nightlight. Under the bed though, the battle had been decided. Vultric released his fangs from the other monster and crawled out from under the bed. Then he returned to his closet victorious. ", "Cathy was at home, annoyed that her husband was working late. My colleagues were still at work, annoyed that I was at home with my wife.\nSarah was in bed, annoyed by the sound of a car pulling into her driveway. I was annoyed by the sudden naked dash from the bed to Sarah's wardrobe.\n\nIn the darkness behind the closed doors, I wondered what sort of monster was I to give in to my passions so easily? Discovery would cause so much pain to Cathy, and to Robert, a cuckold husband.\n\n\"Tommy!\" gasped Sarah, \"you should have knocked!\" I heard a deep voice laugh. \"I saw the light on, and I knew Robert was at the conference, so I wanted to surprise you.\" \n\nI couldn't believe what I was hearing! The two-timing...no make that triple-timing bitch. Soon the sounds of their passion were mixed with the squeaking bedsprings. And Tommy, of all people. The monster was Robert's best friend.\n\nThen the unmistakable voice of Jeremy, the neighbor, came from beyond the curtains. \"Sarah, babe, I'm coming in.\" It was hard to discern which sounds were Jeremy clambering through the window and which were Robert scrambling under the bed.\n\nI knew I was bad, but I now realized Sarah was the real monster.\n\n \n\n" ]

[ 2, 2, 3, 6 ]

[ "1401443319", "1401446913", "1401441675", "1401443716" ]

[ "\"Get in the car,\" they said. \"It's going to be a fun ride,\" they said.\n\nWe were going out into the desert, which sounded like fun. We were in a 2006 Subaru Impreza WRX. 4WD and really quick. We roared down the road and then swerved off into the desert.\n\nWe went over a sand dune and got a serious amount of air. Out of the back window I saw two black SUVs parked facing towards us, with a small group of people by them. I didn't think much of it and stayed quiet. We heard a clunk, almost like a splutter. I asked John, who was driving, \n\n\"What was that?\"\n\n*no response*\n\n\"John?\"\n\n*no response*\n\nBob, who was sitting in one of the back seats whimpered,\n\"Uhm, there's a bullet hole in the rear windscreen.\"\nI looked behind and saw the hole. It was right behind John's head. I checked and noticed a tiny spurt of blood coming from it. The bullet must of passed into his skull but not quite come out the other end.\n\n\n\"Uhm, Bob. He's dead.\"\n\n\"How are we still driving?\"\n\n\"His foot's still on the pedal.\"\n\n\"You gotta be-\"\n\n\nHe looked forward and saw the hole for himself\n\n\"Oh shit\"\n\n\"Y...Yeah\"\n\n\"We need to stop the car.\"\n\n\"Wuh\"\n\n\"WE NEED TO STOP THE FUCKING CAR!\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah\"\n\n\nI reached over to pull the handbrake when Bob said quietly,\n\n\"There are SUVs following us\"\n\nMen poked their heads out of the cars' passenger windows, armed to the teeth. They opened fire and a barrage of bullets started hitting the car and everything else.\n\n\"No time to stop. Sorry John\"\n\nI opened the door and kicked his body out, replacing him with me. I then closed the door and gunned the engine. We had an advantage, the Subaru was quicker than their SUVs but it was sand, so there was less grip. If we could get onto a road, we'd be fine.\n\n\"Keep your head down, Bob\"\n\n\"NAH! I THOUGHT I'D LET EM SHOOT ME!\"\n\n\"Sarcasm really doesn't suit you. *especially* at a time like this.\"\n\n\"JUST DRIVE!\"\n\n\"Do you have a gun?\"\n\n\"John did.\"\n\n\"Well that's just great isn't it?\"\n\n\"He kept in the glove box while driving.\"\n\n\nI opened the glove box and threw the gun backwards.\n\n\"Shoot them.\"\n\nBob started firing at the SUVs. It was like watching a 3 year old try to fly an RC plane. He couldn't control it for toffee.\n\n\"Bob, you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn door with that thing.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm trying!\"\n\n\"Give me the damn gun\"\n\n\nHe passed it to me. I pulled the handbrake, flicked it into reverse and started shooting. I held the gun out the window, aiming for the drivers.\n\n\"Don't they need to reload?\"\n\n\"It's a story, Bob, they only need to reload when the story calls for it.\"\n\n\"Damn it.\"\n\n\nI continued shooting until the gun ran dry. I checked the glovebox for spare mags.\nOne. Great.\n\nI saw a road in the distance. Being as though we didn't want to let them get away, I told Bob to get their Reg Plates. We got onto the road and the Soobs roared away. We took a sharp corner and stopped at the side of the road. There was a dune in the way so anyone driving towards us wouldn't be able to see us. We got out and waited for them to come past. They came down the road.\n\n\nI took the driver of the first vehicle. Causing the second to ram into the first. They both ground to a halt. The guys inside the cars were a little dazed by the incident, I killed every single one. Mercilessly gunning them down for what they had done.\n\nIn the moment I felt no emotion. No remorse. No guilt. Just anger. Fury. Inconsolable rage that I vented on these people. I didn't make it fast either. Shot to the heart, let them bleed out.\n\n\nWe went back to the desert and traced the tyre marks, found John's body. His skin was ripped. Torn everywhere. We loaded him into the back of the bullet hole filled subaru and went back to the SUVs and called the police.\n\nIt then hit me what I had done. I'd taken 8 lives. These people could have had families, families I could have destroyed. And John, we'd never see him again. He was dead, my good friend. Gone forever.\n\nAfter an hour, the police turned up. We had lain John on the street with a blanket on him, his bullet ridden Subaru by him.\n\nThe police informed us that we had taken out a notorious Gang. This helped to ease the pain, knowing that these people had more than likely ruined many people's lives, they said we could go. But we waited until the ambulance crews arrived, and followed John's back to the morgue...\n\n\n\n\"I'm really sorry\"\n\n\"No, it's ok, it wasn't your fault.\"\n\n\"Yeah, and they got what they deserved.\"\n\n\"I'm glad you see it that way. I'm really sorry, he was a good friend.\"\n\n\"And our son\"\n\n\"Yeah. Thanks for the coffee.\"\n\n\"You're more than welcome.\"\n\nI walked outside, past the bullet riddled subaru, past John's parents' car and out into the street, when a black, suspicious looking SUV rolled past...\n\n\nEdit: Spacing", "\"Fuck what am I doing I have to be at work by 5:00?\"\n\nit was 11 p.m. on a Tuesday and just like my girlfriend loves to point out i can't say know to *the guys*. I like friends okay. I love booze okay. If someone wants to hangout with me I'll be there okay. That's who i am. I'm the friend. I'm the guy you can call after you called everyone else in the fucking world and got no's and I'll be damned if i don't show up every god damned time! But tomorrow is gonna suck...\n\nI run a coiled tubing unit. I drill. I help oil wells that got fucked up become un-fucked up and i work damn hard to do it. I always have. People laugh... they make jokes.. they notice my carefree don't give a fuck attitude and they assume my life is easy... these idiots don't knwo i spend every fucking waking moment working towards the life I've secured and the life i want...\n\n\"Elat! pass another beer you jag!\"\n\n\"fuck man you're driving are you sure?\"\n\n\"yeah dude, you've seen me do this we'll be fine...\"\n\n\"alright man, but I'm driving us the fuck home you already have a Duey (DUI)\"\n\n*I crack my beer*\n\nHonestly I don't want to be in the seat of this shit ass 2001 Mitsubishi eclipse, but my old room mate can drink again and he just got a job. If i was in his shoes i'd out right hate anyone who wouldn't join. I mean... we go way back. It's my duty as a god damned human being to be able to celebrate with my friends no matter how many fucking hours i'm working... I can do 80 with my eyes closed and hands tied. What's a little sleep deprivation?\n\nI hear his engine start to whine and the car starts to wobble a little...\n\n\"how fast are we going?\"\n\n\"not to fast man, I've seen you do way worse in your Saab\"\n\n\"heh... alright man, but saabs are built for this shit how long have you been drinking?\"\n\n\"all day man! But I'm fine\"\n\njust at that moment the car started to wobble a little more than normal. the back tire had been going flat lately and it looked like it had finally given out. The car dropped onto it's back wheels and I could see the bright light of sparks shooting out behind us as the metal wheel scraped along the pavement... I don't remember much more about my car or the room mate... or what it feels like to walk.\n\n", "The moon was full, and there wasn't a breath of wind. I was on foot, in a neighborhood where you mind your own business, or else.\n\nI heard the screech of tires on pavement, and I looked behind me to see an all black car sliding around a turn. I didn't know what it was at the time, but something felt off to me. \n\nI turned back to face the direction I was originally headed in, threw my hood up, and started to walk faster. \n\nI could hear the dull roar of the engine, and it was getting closer. I rounded the corner out of sight and began to run. I must of ran about 5 blocks before I started to run out of breath. \n\nThere wasn't another soul around for miles, and the streets were dead quiet. Then I heard it again. The dull roar of the engine again, except it was getting louder. \n\nI started to run again. I was dead tired, but fear has a strange way of giving you that extra little boost. I was nearing the corner of next block, the sound of the engine getting louder. I had no idea what direction it was coming from and I didn't want to stick around to find out. \n\nI was nearly at the corner, still about 6 blocks from home, and then I saw it. The all black car screeched around the corner just ahead of me and came to a dead stop right in front of me. \n\nI stood there, paralyzed, wondering who this might be, what might happen. My mind was racing a mile a minute.\n\nThe passenger side window in the front came down a crack, just enough to make out what whoever inside was saying. \n\n\"Get in the car\" they said. \"It's going to be a fun ride\" they said.\n \nBut before I could respond, or even think of something to say, 2 large men in ski masks hopped out of the backseat and grabbed me by each arm. \n\nI struggled like a son of a bitch trying to break free, but these men were huge. I kicked and screamed as hard as I could but it was in vain. No one heard me, and even if they did, they knew to mind their business in this neighborhood. \n\nI was getting tired of struggling as they dragged me closer to the car. *Click*.... the trunk had popped. \n\nAnd before I knew it, I was in there. \n\nI heard the car doors slam and the engine rev, and the car started to move. \n\nWho were these guys? Where were we headed? Why me? All of these things raced through my mind. \n\nWe must have drove for a good hour or more before I finally felt the car slow down and finally come to a halt. \nI could hear voices, faintly. They were muffled so I couldn't make out what I was hearing. I was terrified of where I was, of what might happen to me. \n\nI heard the *click* again as the trunk unlocked. I laid there in the trunk, completely silent, waiting. \n\nI could hear footsteps getting closer. Then, the trunk flew open and once again 2 huge men grabbed me and hauled me out. \n\nI was blindfolded right away so I never caught a glimpse of where I might be. Everything was still silent except for the mens footsteps as they dragged me.. somewhere. \n\nI prayed to God, which is a big deal for an atheist. I prayed he would get me help, get me out of this situation. I prayed that someone would do something. \n\nThen, the men stopped walking. I heard another man speak up. \n\n\"Is this him?\" The man asked. \n\n\"Yeah, boss. This is him\". \n\nWho is him? What did I do? What was so important about me? I didn't understand. I'm just a regular, everyday average Joe. What did I do?\n\nI was thrown to the floor on my hands and knees. Still blindfolded. I reached my hand up to remove my blindfold, but before my hand could get to my head I felt someone kick me square in the ribs. \n\nI buckled to the floor, flat on my stomach now, sprawled out and in pain. I groaned in agony, clutching my side.\n\nI heard footsteps get closer to me. And then I heard the voice of the man that these 2 goons were calling boss. \n\n\"Let me see your arm\" said the man, as he grabbed onto my wrist and pulled back my sleeve. \n\nThere was silence again, as I could feel his watchful eyes over me. It felt like a lifetime passed by before anything was said. \n\n\"You idiots! This is the wrong guy!\" Shouted the man, at his goons I was assuming. \n\n\"But... boss...he.. he was\"\n\n*BANG*. A gunshot cut off his sentence and I heard a loud thud as something heavy hit the floor next to me. Now I was absolutely terrified. \n\n\"I can't trust you fools to do anything!\" he shouted again. \"GET RID OF HIM!\" \n\nAnd with that I was scooped back up off the floor and dragged down what seemed like a long hallway. When we finally stopped, I heard the *click* again. And low and behold, back in the trunk I went. \n\nAnother hour of driving gone by. I had no idea who these men were, where they were taking me, or what their plan was to do with me. I knew that I had to do something. \n\nWhen the car finally stopped again, I waited in silence. I had removed my blindfold in the trunk, seeing as no one had ever thought to bound my hands. \n\nI heard the *click* once again. Followed by the slamming of the car door, and footsteps. Only one set this time. \n\nI waited there, patiently, until I could hear that the footsteps had stopped right by the trunk. \n\nAs soon as the trunk was opened I drew my leg back and kicked as hard as I could, and just by my luck I hit the man right in the face. \n\n*Crunch*. That was the sound of his nose shattering, followed by a loud groan of pain as he stumbled backward. Now this was my chance, I thought to myself.\n\nI jumped out of the trunk, and started to run again. \n\n\"Get him!\" Someone yelled.\n\nI heard the car door slam again but never looked back to see why. \n\n*Bang*. Another gunshot echoed out into the night as I ran for a nearby alley. *Bang, bang.* A bullet had whizzed right by my head as I rounded the corner into the alley. \n\nI could hear yelling and footsteps following behind me, so I just kept running. \n\nWhen I finally got to the other end of the alley, I noticed a store. **Hanna Bakery** the sign read. I realized I was so close to the place where I had originally been abducted.\n\nI ran like the wind. 5 blocks til home, 4 blocks, 3, 2.... almost there... \n\n\"BANG\". One final gunshot rang out. The bullet pierced through my chest and I felt a burning sensation. I dropped to the ground, clutching the hole that was oozing blood. \n\nI was a block from home. And I was dying. Surely someone had heard the gunshot, but like I said before, in a neighborhood like this, I had no chance.\n\n\nThe End." ]

[ 1, 2, 3 ]

[ "1401472309", "1401457020", "1401459155" ]

[ "I sat staring blankly at the empty school yard. The swings rocked gently back and forth in the night air. The shovel in my hand felt oddly warm, almost as though it were a third arm. I walked, determined to the edge of the yard. Under a holly bush that grew into the old chain link fence, that's where they were. \nI began to dig, pausing only every one in awhile to look over my shoulder. I continuously got the feeling that someone was behind me. \nI dug until I found the first one. It came out of the loose dirt easily. A human skull. The rest of the skeleton were miles away locked in a morgue of headless john doe's by now. I dug till I found the other 5. Then, I covered the hole, put the skulls in my bag, and went home. \nHiding a body is simple, easy almost. There are millions of tons of empty dirt in places that no one will ever dig. The hard part is making sure that no one knows you hid them there. \nI was 10 years old when I saw him burry just these 6 heads in my school yard. I had snuck out of my house when my parents were in bed to go find my lost race car under the swingset. I had his when I saw him. Funny how the tables turned. I checked everywhere small inquisitive eyes could be hiding. \nI dropped the skulls off outside the postoffice. The police station was too active at night, but the post office was abandoned. And, in my small town, it was the next largest city run building. \nSuddenly I felt a sweeping guilt come over me. I had held the secret to finding the killer ever since I was 10. I had held the key to bringing justice and peace to these people. \nThat guilt went as quickly as it had come. I didn't know these people. I didn't know their killer. I only saw their heads--now shrunken and covered in filth--buried in my school yard. I was merely a passive observer. I owed them nothing. \n\"Those belong to me.\" \nI spun round, my heart nearly kept from my chest. Behind me, the figure I recognized from faint memory and vivid nightmare. \n\"I came back to collect them. But I saw you did them up. So I followed you here.\" \nI hesitated to speak. I wasn't very scared, I felt almost sick. My heart hurt inside my chest, it was a struggle to breath. \n\"You know, the secret, it drives you mad after a while. It eats away at your mind like a rat on a corpse. The guilt of their screams...that's nothing...it's the secret that makes you mad.\" \nI could see through the dark that he was smiling. \n\"That's why I'm turning these in.\" I replied.\n\"In the dead of night? Unknown? Unrecognized? No credit for your a act of brilliant heroism? You're the one person who lived to see my face.\" The killer continued to smile.\n\"There's no other way....\" I said. \nI dropped the bag of skulls on the side walk. \n\"There's going to have to be. Leave that bag, and I'll take it.\" \n\"Then I'm not leaving it.\" I said. \n\nI woke up, the sun in my face and a small crowd of people around me. I was curled up next to the bag, clutching it.\nLater that day the police showed me the security tapes of the outside of the postoffice. There was no one there but me. I was talking to an empty sidewalk. \n\n\"The secret drives you mad!\" \nThat voice rang in my head.\n\n\nThanks for reading! ", "Yesterday the large initials \"LP\" were painted on a wall down town. Today they're sprawled across two buildings and a tree. Graffiti doesn't stick to one wall in my world. It goes whichever way the wind blows it. It all eventually washes down the drains. \nI drew a picture once. It blew across my neighbors house. It was a picture of a cat coughing up a hair ball shaped like the Statue of Liberty. The neighbor was very upset. I laughed for a few weeks about it. \nBut by far the most exciting thing to ever drift across any storefront or building face or tree was the confession. \n9 words: \"I am guilty. I am sorry. I am dying.\"\nNo one knew where it came from. No one figured it out, but I knew. The whole world was buzzing, looking for answers. This massive image of twisting words in red letters had everyone trying to track down the mysterious \"confessor\". I knew. I had the answers....\n\n----\n\nIs this worth finishing? Haha. I feel like I'm just rambling to an empty auditorium at this point. . ." ]

[ 2, 5 ]

[ "1401515261", "1401503777" ]

[ "Devil's Fork we called it. \n\nIn one of the older more developed residential areas in our town, the development was surrounded by a dried out river bed and various other drainage ditches. Some of these areas were wide and overgrown. Some even had trails that you could explore, although they were elaborate and often led to nowhere. A friend of a friend told us of a place around these trails, called Devil's fork. It was a massive concrete drainage tunnel that connected to half of the storm drains in the town. Although flooded and disgusting in the rainy season, the summer heat dried out the tunnel and made it possible to explore. Ready for an adventure, we decided to find this tunnel. \n\nOur first question for our friend was why it was called Devil's Fork. He simply told us that it would be obvious when we found it. He told us it was often frequented by taggers and drug users, but that the tunnel was completely straight and carried sound well. All we would have to do is listen for a few minutes at the entrance to know whether or not we would run into anybody there. We asked if he knew any history about the tunnel, but sadly he had nothing interesting to add besides that it was likely a bit older than the houses around it that were built in the fifties. Satisfied with that, we thanked him and got ready to go. Before we left, however, he insistently told us how scary the place was. We tried assuring him that we were experienced with creepy, and that it was why we were excited for the tunnel. He wasn't a coward though, we knew that. Chances are he had done plenty of things more intense than we ever dared. He tried explaining that everything he experienced was probably just his imagination, echos, and the darkness, but stated that something was still very off about that tunnel. He never could clarify what exactly it was that scared him, so we eventually thanked him and left. \n\nThat night we went into the tunnel. \n\nOur group was five people, more than we usually went with in one trip, as the more people you have with you the easier it is joke around and spoil the thrill. However, most of our friends were busy with other things and we didn't want to leave anyone out that night. We left around 6 pm, and the sun was still up. We explored for about half an hour until we came across a narrow clearing that ran along one of the main roads. We followed it down and we found the tunnel. It was surrounded with large stones, and looked more like a cave than a tunnel. As instructed we stood at the entrance and listened. The stench was unbearable. Although the tunnel was dry save a tiny stream of water down the middle, sewage and garbage had accumulated at the entrance. After a few minutes, we heard nothing but some small, indiscernible creaks and shuffles, but we didn't hear any footsteps or voices. Deciding it must just be road noise and rats, we decided to begin the trek into the tunnel. It was perfectly round and uniform, the gray concrete was almost comforting. It felt modern, and inert. The tunnel was about 5'6'' in diameter, so we had to crouch just slightly as we made our way through. It was fun at first. We started to come across some graffiti, mostly lighthearted artwork celebrating 420, and a surprising number of fruits wearing sunglasses and smoking joints. As we progressed we realized that tunnel must have been slightly curved, as it got much darker, and the light at the entrance seemed to grow smaller at a rate that was much quicker than one would expect from only traveling such a short distance. That is when we realized that none of us had brought a headlamp or significant source of light. Back then our phones didn't have flashlights, so all we had were the brightness of the screens. I had a tiny led flashlight that required you to constantly push the button to keep it on. The button had broken off, but I rolled up a dollar bill and jammed it into the hole where the button had been, and this allowed the light to stay on, but it was difficult to keep it on. On top of that, I had my zippo. I didn't really smoke then, but it made me feel like Indiana Jones so I always carried the damn thing around. After gathering what light we had, we pressed on. Looking back I wish we had gone back for some better flashlights. \n\nAs we continued the graffiti started to depict darker subject matter. We assumed that people on acid must had drawn them. They were reminiscent of scenes from Alice in Wonderland. There were strange distorted creatures, although I have since forgotten what most of the paintings depicted. One that I do remember in particular was a snake that someone had painted all around the tunnel in a helix pattern. The spiral must have traveled ten feet of the tunnel and ended with the snakes head, that the artist had drawn decapitated with a meat cleaver. At this point we noted that the light at the end of the tunnel was gone, although our phones showed that sunset hadn't happened yet. That is when the terror started to sink in. On either side of the tunnel our lights faded into pitch black, and we were surrounded by these creepy images. I felt trapped and claustrophobic, and the tunnel seemed to get smaller. We continued on anyways, determined to get to the end. At this point we were curious to see how far the tunnel went, and jogged down the tunnel, making as much progress as we could and ignoring the increasingly disturbing artwork. After about half a mile, were were relieved to see that there were areas in the tunnel that opened up with small enclosures on the side. These contained a small ladder that led to an angled shelf about 10 feet above the tunnel ground. From there we could see out of some storm drains and also noted that it was still day out. Again we pressed on more cautiously, towards the end of the tunnel. At this point my led light would not stay on. I strained my hand, jamming the dollar as hard as I could into the hole, but I couldn't keep it on for more than a minute or two at a time. I eventually gave up and pulled out my zippo. The flames were eerie in the dark tunnel, and the flame forced us to move more slowly as to keep it lit. At this point we started to look closer at the graffiti farther down. It was terrifying. The graffiti was no longer strange, it was downright disturbing. Pentagrams lined the tunnel walls. There were animals devouring each other. There were drawings of zombies and skeletons and demons. Sick looking creatures with goat legs and fangs. We didn't feel any sort of satanic presence or ominous doom, but we all agreed that whoever made these paintings were fucked in the head. Finally the tunnel opened up to a large rectangular room. There was a pool of foulness on the floor of the room, and we all gagged on the intense smell of vomit and sewage. On the other side of the room there were three tunnels equally distanced apart, just big enough that someone could crawl through. Above the middle tunnel was a pentagram, and the crudely painted words \"Devil's Fork\" with a pitchfork drawn at the end. A long tunnel with three \"prongs\" at the end. We had literally walked through a hollowed out pitchfork. Not wanting to walk through the sewage, and frankly having been scared enough, we decided not to cross the room to inspect the smaller tunnels. In retrospect, I think this was the best decision we made on our quest. We turned back feeling relieved. \n\nAs we began walking back, we started to hear strange noises, like something splashing in water. Thinking maybe someone had entered the tunnel after us, we lowered our voices to a whisper and prepared for an awkward encounter with unknown strangers. We had numbers on our side, so we figured if it came to a fight we would be okay. Then the noises grew louder and more startling. It was as if someone was picking up rocks from the ground and flinging them down the length of the tunnel. We had done this too on our way in, so we figured it just had to be someone else exploring the cave. That's when we came to the first storm drain on our way back. We could just make out the bright blue sky and a streetlight pole as we peaked by. That when we heard it. The silence was pierced by what sounded like a little girl shrieking and we made out the words, \"Help! What is it!!??\" I was taking up the rear of the group. Someone yelled, \"Holy FUCK!!,\" and the next thing I know we were booking it down the tunnel. Just as I ran pass the storm drain I caught a glimpse of an image that seems to change every time i try to imagine it. I was scared, and odds are the unfamiliar shapes and shadows in that tiny instance were conceived by my brain to be something else. But I could have sworn I saw vines. Lots of them, crawling up the walls of the opening to the edge of the storm drain's grate. And in the middle I saw something. I couldn't tell if it was human, animal, or even a plant, but I saw something. Whatever it was, the girls screams were enough to send me on my way. We ran as fast as we could, careless as to whether we scraped our heads on the top of the tunnel, or that we could have easily slipped on the slick ground and tripped over each other. The tunnel's echos made it sound as if there were footsteps behind us. It sounded as if dozens of people were running in those tunnels, not just five. Echos or not, maybe it was because I was in the very back, but I couldn't help but to feel like were being chased. Finally we reached the opening. We flew out and dove onto the ground in the clearing, and then we turned our attention to the tunnel entrance and listened. Nothing. It was dark outside, the only thing we heard was the crickets chirping in the bushes. It must have all been nerves. Whatever I thought I saw certainly did not chase us, as the tunnel was silent. But even if that thing I saw was just my fear induced imagination, we all saw the daylight from the storm drain, and we all knew the sun had set 40 minutes ago. ", "People asked me how I did it. Looked at it everyday. I just told them it was my job, someone had to investigate, but maybe I was curious too. I was the first one called in, they hoped a biologist could put these killings in some kind of context. Was it some kind of escaped specimen? Had it been forced into the area by destruction of its habitat? There had to be a way of explaining it that didn’t mean what we all were thinking.\n\nIt was overcast, when I went to examine the first body. Female, early twenties. I won’t bore you with her life story, it didn’t care and neither did I. She hadn’t been eviscerated, she’d been disassembled. Every piece looking like its own creature. By effort of will you could get your brain around the fact that this used to be a person, but the second you lost focus it just resolved into parts. This wasn’t hatred or hunger, it was more like curiosity. I think it just wanted to understand how she worked. Maybe it didn’t even realise that this would kill her, or maybe the difference between the two states wasn’t something it recognized.\n\nNo footprints, no blood (except hers), no saliva, no teeth marks (she’d seemingly just fallen apart), no trace of anything, known or unknown. Nothing wanted to record its presence. Nature shut its eyes and turned away. There was a sense of revulsion in the surroundings, the earth refused to bear the memory of the thing, rejected it like a foreign body. All that was left was the scar.\n\nIt went on like this for weeks, every few days a new body. Bodies were taken apart, inverted, changed. One man had his face removed, it wasn’t torn off, there was just nothing on the front of his skull. Another was just a translucent sack of skin. His eyes and mouth opening into the cavity of his head. I prayed we’d never find a survivor, some shambling thing, gurgling as it tried to scream, a perversion of nature that made a mockery of humanity. I’d have nightmares where I suffocated beneath the unbroken flesh of what used to be my face.\n\nThe killings stopped after a month, at first I was kept on to find an explanation. But the town was eager to forget, and my presence just reminded them of what they saw in the woods. They were afraid of the wrong thing, they feared what they remembered but it didn’t permit memories. I was afraid of what I’d forgotten, of what it showed me. If I look in the mirror I can’t hold myself together anymore, I can try for a while to see a face, belonging to a man whose name I know. But I lose focus, and I resolve into parts.\n", "\"Night comes swiftly and ambushes the unwary.\" Mothers tell their children, \"There are countless tales of the thing that lurks in the forest at night. No tale ends happily for those who do not lose their lives lose their minds.\" \n\nUnfortunately, I just happen to find myself caught in the forest at night. The flame of my lantern had flickered one final time right before the creature found me. Perhaps it was the scent of my fear that drew it near or perhaps it smelled my blood from where I clumsily scraped my arm.\n\nThe crunch of leaves and the nearly inaudible growls of that *thing* causes my hair to stand on end. I raise my tattered cloak and quicken my pace across the log-strewn forest. My chest tightens and my breath becomes uneven. It has drawn closer. \n\nThe enigma in the darkness dances in my peripheral vision as it taunts its prey. Whenever I turn to look at it, it vanishes, and finds its way behind me once again. Sometimes I hear a soft rhythmic grumble as if it is laughing at my misfortune.\n\nAhead, I can see the brambles that block my path to freedom. In the stories that mothers tell their children, the brambles are the snares that *it* uses to trap it's dinner. Have I been herded to my own demise?\n\nI step in something warm and slimy. Is it the creature's saliva or is this the remnants of a fresh kill? I am thankful that I cannot see what lies on the forest floor. \n\nA loud thump jars the ground. Hot, putrid breath tickles the back of my neck and assaults my senses. I lurch forward out of fear and find myself falling into the brambles before me. \n\nI tear away from the thorns, ripping both my flesh and my clothing, and ignore pain. I hear rustling above me as I desperately fight against the relentless thorns. A thick glob of saliva lands in my forest-infested hair. \n\nI fall forward into the brambles and a great pressure now rests on my back. It has gripped my legs and is pulling me back into the forest. I claw at the thorns in vain, knowing full well that my life will soon come to an end. \n\nI can only pray that it kills me quickly." ]

[ 1, 1, 3 ]

[ "1401521978", "1401528932", "1401520801" ]

[ "\n\nThe two men sat on the couch, silent and stoic. Christian knelt before the table in front of them. \nHe bowed his head and whimpered quietly. Beads of cold sweat raced down his skin and drenched his shirt. \nThe polished steel of the revolver glinted in the sliver of light that transected the apartment. Coke covered \nthe tabletop like snow. Christians cries echoed through his empty apartment. The men look at him with \npitiless eyes.\n\n\"Either you do it or we will.\"\n\nChristian looked up at them. He shook his head and began to sob. The frail man crumpled to the floor \nand cried helplessly. The two men stood up, their faces still expressionless. One picked up the revolver \nfrom the table. He shook it gingerly. The dust of powder drifted down to the linoleum. He advanced toward \nChristian as the other looked on. He reached inside his jacket and took out a small not. He placed the note \non top of the table. The click of the hammer echoed in Christian's left ear. \n\n\n\"I didn't mean to, i swear to God,\" Christian choked through his cries. \"It was an accident, you can't \nfucking kill me for a *stupid* fucking accident\"\n\n\n\"I don't know what you're talking about. You killed yourself. Out of guilt. You poor tortured soul.\" \nThe man smiled at Christian and laughed. \n\n\nHe pressed the gun against Christian's temple and fired. With a loud crack his life ended. Christian's \nbody fell limp to the floor. Blood spurted from his temple but waned quickly like the last bit of life was \nleaving his body. The man put the gun in Christian's hand and pressed his fingers against the surface. \nBlood began to pool and wash over the tiny white specks on the floor. The two left the apartment without \nanother word.", "\"What kind of a sick game is this?\" Tony said scooting his chair away from the table and standing up. He walked over to what he knew to be a one-way mirror and yelled, \"Do you hear me? What kind of sick fucks are you?\" \n\"Alright Tony. No need to get all flustered. You signed up for it just like I and this fellow to my left did.\" The man who had been sitting directly across the table from Tony said. \"I'm Mark by the way. But most of my friends call me Wade, don't ask why,\" as he said this he put his hand out in greeting toward Tony with an earnest smile. \n\"Don't tell me what to do,\" Tony spat angrily completely ignoring Marks outstretched hand. \"And how do you know my name?\" \n\"I overheard you tell one of the nurses as you were getting cleared.\" Mark said calmly. At that Tony blew air from his nose and shook his head as he turned away to face the one-way mirror again. There was a not too comfortable silence then as Tony stood as if trying to pierce the one-way mirror with his gaze and Mark sat in turn looking at Tony's back. \n\"Well...uh,\" the third man started uncomfortably. \"Well, if were introducing ourselves, my names Chet.\" He said looking in turn at Tony and Mark. \n\"Pleased to meet you Chet,\" Mark said nodding his head in Chet's direction. \"So what kind of work do you do?\" \n\"Well, I'm...well I *was* a plumber. But I got laid off recently which is really why I'm here. I need the money.\" \n\"Sorry to hear it.\" \n\"Yeah, well I'll get by. I always do. It just gets difficult sometimes with the wife. You know how women are,\" Chet said with a kind of shrug and half smile. \n\"No actually Chet, I don't really, why don't you tell me.\" Chet's smile vanished. \n\"Well, uh, what I mean is..\" \n\"How can you both just sit there chatting away as if there isn't a loaded revolver laying right there on the table?\" Burst Tony, now standing behind the chair he had occupied earlier, glaring at Mark. \n\"Why? What should we be doing?\" asked Mark simply. \n\"Well shit, I don't know,\" said Tony throwing his arms up in frustration. \"But shouldn't we be focusing on why were here?\" \n\"Why *are* we here Tony?\" \n\"Goddamn it. You and your questions! I don't know exactly why were here, some kind of experiment, but it clearly has something to do with that revolver,\" Tony said gesturing at the revolver on the table as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. \n\"That seems to be the case,\" said Mark. \"But I think the experiment is more about us than the revolver.\" \n\"What the hell does that mean?\" \n\"I mean,\" Mark said deliberately, \"that the experiment has to do with what we will do, if anything, with the revolver. Since I know that I mean to do absolutely nothing with it, I plan on ignoring it altogether and finding some way to pass the time until they let us leave. Does that sound reasonable to you Tony?\" Mark finished almost condescendingly. \n\"I suppose,\" Tony gave grudgingly, \"in that case I wish we had some cards or something.\" \n\"Yeah, I could go for some Rummy or something right now,\" added Chet. Tony looked at him as if he had just realized he was there. Chet shifted uncomfortably as if trying to escape his gaze. \n\"But since we don't,\" stated Mark, \"tell me what it is you do, Tony, and how you came about to be in this strange situation.\" \n\"Alright I'll play along,\" Tony said taking his seat again, \"I work construction.\" \n\"Tough work huh,\" said Mark. \n\"Yeah, real work, not something you would know anything about.\" \n\"It's true I don't do any real physical labor, as you might be able to tell from my not so lean physique, but some might say that what I do is just as difficult.\" \n\"Oh yeah, and whats that?\" \n\"I'm a writer.\" \nTony blew air through his lips wetly and in disbelief. \"Who ever said that being a writer is anywhere near as difficult or taxing as working your ass off in the hot sun all day had a screw loose. You sit in a fucking chair all day and type stuff you think sounds good.\" \n\"Well sure, on the face of it that is what I do. But whats difficult about it is, day after day, working through your own harsh critique to craft something that is true to you and you think might just be true in some other way as well. Then once you have it down you have to put it out there for everyone else to shoot down.\" \n\"I can't believe your really still going with this. You really think writing is as difficult as building a fucking house? Well then I can't do it. I'm done.\" Tony smacked his hands on the table for emphasis as he stood to go lean on the wall by himself. The next while was spent with Chet talking and Mark listening. With mark only saying a word here or there just to keep Chet talking and keep the time passing. All while Tony alternated between leaning on the wall lost in his own thought and pacing back and forth in growing frustration. The gun lay motionless taunting them all. \n\"Alright that's it fuck this!\" Tony said running to the table and snatching the revolver from it. Chet and Mark both leapt back hands in the air. There was no time for them to do anything else. *bang*... \n\"What in the hell do you think you are doing?\" yelled Mark. \"You could have killed someone. If that window hadn't been bullet proof you could have hit whoever was on the other side or it could have ricochet and hit one of us!\" \n\"Yeah, well it didn't do either of those things now did it? There, the bullet is stuck in the wall over there. I aimed it so, if it did ricochet, it wouldn't hit either of you and if it had gone through and hit one of them, well then it would serve them right for doing experiments on people like this. Putting us in a room to see if we shoot each other. What kind of scientists are these. What are we in Nazi Germany?\" \n\"Well alright you've proved your point. You have probably scared them enough, they will come get us out now. So will you put the gun down please?\" \n\"Yeah, can you please put the gun down,\" chimed in Chet. \n \nAlright this is getting a bit long. I'll just post what I have now and if someone wants me to finish it later I will.", "Smoke rose from the ashtray like a ghost.\n \nMy .38 calibur snub-nose spun on the middle of the table like a roulette wheel with Boss Carmine playing the role of a dealer. Officer Clarke and I sat with hands tied behind our backs, with only our lives to place as bets. \n\nThe last thing I remember was being down at the shipyard. Clarke and I had been chasing a lead on a crooked cop. Somebody in Brooklyn’s finest was selling information to the mob, and we were gonna find out who. \n\nAs things turned out, our big lead brought us straight into an ambush. \n\nI remember taking cover, I remember a firefight, a clunk to the head… then everything went black. \nAnd now, here I am, tied up in the penthouse of Boss Carmine, the big-bad wolf of the big apple. \n\n“Detective Rogers…” spat Carmine. “As I understand it, you've put a lot of my boys behind bars.”\n\n“Aside from the ones I killed tonight...” (Being tied up never stopped me from being a smart ass.)\n\nI took a look over at Clarke, he seemed pretty calm, given the circumstances. I was surprised someone so new to the force wouldn't be more shaken up. \n\n“Your mouth exceeds your reputation.” continued Carmine. “If I was in your shoes, I’d be showing more respect. You’ll answer for what you've done to this family…”\n\n'Here comes the monologue...' I thought to myself. 'These fat pricks always love to hear themselves talk.'\n\nIt didn't matter. Carmine’s speech would only give me time to assess the situation:\n\nThree men... one room… one gun. A window to the left, a door behind me. It’s safe to assume there’s ten to fifteen armed thugs waiting outside. I knew I’d killed four of Boss Carmine’s men tonight, one with two shots. That meant there was only one round left in the chamber.\n \n“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen now,” Carmine’s rant had culminated into its crescendo. “Being a man of respect, I’m gonna give you the chance to walk outta here. All you gotta do is take your gun and shoot officer Clarke here.”\n\n“WHAT?!” Clarke’s face dropped as he yelled in protest. “Carmine, PLEASE!!!”\n\nThe mobster rose from his chair and strutted over to me. Taking a knife from his belt, he cut me loose. \n\n“And don’t try anything funny,” Carmine pointed at me, placing the knife on the table. “I brought my own insurance.” He grabbed a shotgun from the floor and aimed it at me.\n\nClarke was shaking like a leaf at this point. And rightfully so; Carmine was one ace short of a royal flush. Little did he know, I had that ace tucked safely up my sleeve.\n \n“Not a bad plan,” I said. “You’ll have me kill Clarke, take my gun and let me go. After which, this gun will find itself into the police’s hands, I’ll get pegged for the murder and go to jail. And you’ll have two less cops trying to bring you down.”\n\n“You’re pretty smart.” chuckled Carmine.\n\n“Smarter than you think, perhaps.” I retorted.\n\nI took the gun and shot Clarke in the head. Smoke rose from the barrel like a ghost.\nThe loud bang faded into the sound of Carmine’s laughter. \n\n“I’ll admit,” he clapped “I didn’t think you had it in ya.”\n\n“I never did like a crooked cop.” I said.\n\n“Oh?” asked Carmine. \n\n“Officer Clarke was giving you information, was he not? He was your informant. But you’re more than okay with his death. He was a rookie, he was sloppy. It was too dangerous to keep him alive now. And what better way to dispose of him than having me take the fall? After all, I’m the only detective with enough dirt on you to take you down. But now that threat will be kept safely behind bars, right?”\n\n“Not bad, Rogers.” he said. “You coulda used that bullet on me and had a better chance. Now put the gun down and I’ll walk you out.”\n\nI placed the gun back on the table and leaned over. \n\n“In a moment,\" I said. \"I know something you don't know...\"\n\n“Oh? And what’s that?” inquired Carmine. \n\n“How to throw a knife.”\n\nI grabbed the knife from the table and ducked. Carmine fired a shot straight over my head. \nI threw, and the blade found a home in Carmine’s throat. A steady flow of red pooled on the table top as he keeled over, breathing his last. \n\nI walked over and opened the window. \n\nI don’t know why he thought I’d have to use the door. \n", "\"dude im so high right now\" said Johnny, the 20 year old delivery boy.\n\"Ya, man me to\" said Paul, his unemployed friend.\n\"That thing is so cool, i love how it looks\" replied George, the unimportant friend who had diarrhea the day before.\n\n\"Should we use it?\" asked Johnny, with a spaced out look on his face.\n\"I duno man, is it safe?\" questioned George cautiously.\n\"Maybe we should just stare at it a little longer, see what happens\" said paul slowly.\n\nJust then two policeman came in through the revolving door that the three stoners were perched around and arrested them. \n\n", "\"I know we talked about how we were going to do this,\" the haggard old man said, shifting in his chair nervously. His eyes darted from the revolver laying on the table he was at to the two men sitting across from him. The color drained from their faces as their eyes locked. \"But, there... there are only two bullets left in the revolver.\"\n\n\"So I think it's only fair that as Captain I take the pistol and-\" The old man grabbed the revolver and, as the other two men jumped up in protest, fired one round into each of their heads, killing them instantly. The old man laid the revolver down on the table as his two crew members fell limply into their seats.\n\nHe stood up and walked to the window of his space ship, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. The stars appeared as nothing but a blur to him as his lifeless ship careened towards the massive sun of the solar system he was patrolling.\n\n\"At least I was able to save you two from what fate has in store for me...\"\n\nHe lit his cigarette as the hull plating from the nose of his ship liquefied from the devastating heat.\n\n(This is my first time writing for something like this plus I've been up all night so don't be too hard :) )", "When I stared down at the revolver, I didn't see a gun. A gun is just a mechanism. Little bits of metal shaped to perform a set of functions in concert, to achieve a desired effect. Parts. Just so many parts. To refer to what I saw as a \"gun\" is to reduce it to a material object, a possession, a mere physical thing. No, what I saw was a means to an end. What I saw was the one thing that could right so many of the wrongs that the cosmos never cared to fix. *What I saw* was redemption. What I saw was an escape.\n\nIt sat on a small wooden coffee table, waiting for someone to reach out and take it, beckoning me and the two friends that shared a couch with me. To my left was Jules, his face covered in the unkempt beginnings of a beard, his hair long and greasy, his clothes stained with sweat accumulated over the last couple of days. To my right was Mary, whose empty hazel eyes were bloodshot and framed by dark, blue-tinged circles that stood out against her pallor. The two of them were staring at the same entity that I was, and seeing the same things that I was. We all knew what we had to do, but we couldn't quite manage it.\n\nIt was Mary that broke the stalemate between our obligation and our collective hesitation. She reached out, slowly, as if pulling against the enormous weight of the remaining shards of her instinct of self-preservation, and grasped the revolver in her shaking hand. She pulled it back toward her, and jerked her arm up, jabbing the barrel under her chin. As her finger tightened on the trigger, she whispered two words: \"I'm sorry.\"\n\nWe knew that the gunshot would be loud enough to alert everyone in the surrounding apartments, but we didn't expect it to be so *deafening.* Her head didn't jerk back dramatically, her body didn't twitch and spasm as she died, and blood didn't spray out of the top of her head because the shot didn't penetrate all the way through. She was dead in a single, anti-climactic, horrible instant, slumping forward and collapsing onto the floor in a heap. The clock was started, the neighbors were almost certainly alerted, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to act just yet. I had to watch her fall, and only when gravity crumpled her corpse between the couch and the table could I take my turn.\n\nI checked the floor for the gun, and didn't see it; it had fallen out of her hand and onto the couch as she died. I reached over and gingerly, I picked up the courier of my redemption and I held it in my hand. I wanted to press it against my temple, but the three of us had agreed not to do it that way. We planned this out. We got some fake IDs and rented the apartment above us. We'd put the gun under our chins, fire up, and if the shot was a through-and-through, there'd be nobody above us to get hurt. Only three people were supposed to die tonight, so I held the gun to my chin, and as I did, I felt the memories rush forward.\n\nWe were at a restaurant, drunk and having a damn good time, talking about all kinds of stupid bullshit -- TV, sports, movies. Between conversations, I was ogling the waitress's rack -- *I was drunk* -- and Jules and Mary were checking out guys seated at other tables. It wasn't long before we realized that we were drinking a little more than we'd planned, and we didn't bring enough cash for a cab ride home. I thought I could drive us all home. Mary tried to argue, but with the state she was in, it wasn't hard to convince her to go along with it.\n\nMinutes later, we're driving through the moonlight, singing along to the songs on the radio, carrying on, and paying attention to just about everything but the road. We round a bend a little too quick and swerve into the oncoming lane just in time for me to get a good look at the driver's face. Male, twenty-something, good-looking with glasses, looking panicked as he clutched the wheel of his yellow-orange hatchback. I tried to swerve back out of the way, but it was too late. We shook off the impact, climbed out of our crumpled car, and took a look. There wasn't much left of the kid's hatchback or his face.\n\nMary was the one who checked his ID. Jules was the one who convinced us to call 911, but not to stick around. We got back to our apartment without incident, and when we woke up the next morning, we knew what we had to do. We all chose our fate, and we all knew what we had to do, but Mary was the first one to say it. I knew I had to pay for driving drunk. Mary knew she had to pay for failing to stop me. Jules knew he had to pay for turning it into a hit-and-run. A man was dead, and we resolved to join him.\n\nI snapped back to the present -- to the barrel pressed against my jaw, to the corpse of a friend resting against my foot, and the breaths of the man who will be the last to die. I stared ahead, directly into the camera, and said, \"So am I,\" as I pulled the tri", "Three men. One revolver.\n\nNo one reached for the gun. \n\n\"So\" said one \n\n\"So\" said the other \n\n\"So\" said the third \n\nThey stared at the gun. Death in another form. No one wanted to shake hands with him. But Death wouldn't allow that. Someone had to give him life. they had worn out their excuses, arguments and rationalizations. There was nothing more left to be said. All that was left was for the executioner to be chosen. \n\n\"One man, one death\" intoned the one, he reached and shook deaths hand.\n\"One death\" the other intoned\n\nThe choice had been made. There was no turning back. They all stood and nodded as one. Their cloaks hiding the tears for their brother. He would be remembered. \n\nThe executioner turned his back and walked out of the chamber. He shed no tears. It was forbidden for him to show weakness. His pain was silent. The shadow helped to hide his face. \n\nThe stairs which led downstairs were huge and winding. Their signaled\nhis death. Slowly and carefully he made his way down the stairs, making sure to avoid the final step. He avoided the guard with ease.He was small and he had adequate cover to make his way into the kitchen. His target was there. Arrogant in her ways. Words were her weapon. \n\nSlowly he raised the revolver and fired the first shot. His target shrieked in rage. Panic shook his entire body. The gun becoming more unstable as he continued firing, the target becoming more enraged as he continued his barrage. \n\n\"Tommy you little shit!\" Samantha screamed \"I am going to kill you\"\n\nTommy smiled \"I am ready for that\" Then he ran away with Samantha right behind him. \n\n\n\n\n", "\"We could you know. Just aim at him, pull the trigger... just like callahduty man.\" came Ryan's hoarse but young voice.\n\n\"I know, it'd be a brief reprieve. Like stabbing a blister. You know shit's gonna come after you, but you don't care, he's off our backs for a while.\" came Carl's ratty, barely-out-of-teens Italian-American squeak.\n\n\"How many shots you got in that thing, man?\" came the last man - Trey -the youngest of the three and most recognizable - through his love of Guy Ritchie movies he'd earnt himself an East End drawl.\n\n\"2. One for the dude and one if we get scared, he said. I'd rather put one in his head, and one in his brain, if you know what I mean.\"\n\nCarl came off the pipe, and hoarsely announced\n\"Ey dontcha watch South Park? Ya don't shoot a guy in the dick Rai!\"\n\nTrey piped up, unfazed by Carl's interjection: \"You know what kinda gun that is?\"\n\n\"He says it's a Taurus Judge.\"\n\n\"Oh man, that sounds epic.\"\n\n\"So which one of us should do it then? I vote Carl.\"\n\n\"No way man, I got a wife.\"\n\n\"Yeah, and you look like every other two-bit criminal in this town. You got camouflage man.\"\n\n\"Man, this is some Jesse Pinkman shit... what about me?\"\n\n\"You Trey? 'Officer, I didn't see much of him, but he was black and sounded half like Michael fucking Caine.' No, Trey, the last guy we need is someone with character. Someone like chalkboard here who's as blank as a slate.\"\n\n\"Naw naw mate, you got it all wrong. I just go in there, put it to 'is 'ead, press the trigger, n'its done. No need for words mate, just action. Specifically double-action.\"\n\n\"Whaddya mean, double-action?\"\n\n\"Ain't the Judge a double-action? At least it says so on Wikipedia\"\n\n\"Ugh, well, if you think you can shoot it, show me.\"\n\n\"Can't be too 'ard. Just, let's not fire now, turn the barrel so the shot's out of the way...\"\n\nTrey set his shaky aim on the plates in the distance. With his arm outstretched, he pulled the trigger - the barrel clicked and nothing happened.\n\n\"There, see? Simpou, innit.\"", "“*Muy barato, si,* my friends?”\n\nThe Mexican’s stained, chipped teeth gleam from beneath a long, thin mustache. Every once in a while, a nervous tongue flicks out amidst the gaps of his quivering smile.\n\nOne of the travelers, the one with the mud-stained duster eases back in his chair. The chair creaks in three different places. He swirls saliva in his mouth.\n\n“Let me ask you something, amigo,” he says. “Now let me ask you somethin’, and I want you to think good and hard ‘fore you answer.”\n\nThe Mexican nods slowly.\n\n“The *fuck* means no to you, huh? Did you hear me utter the word *si*, just now?” The traveler turns to his companions. “How ‘bout it boys? One ‘o you hear me say, ‘sure you dirty spic, I’d love to take a gander at your piece-of-shit little Colt right there,’?”\n\nThe traveler sitting across the table from the first frowns and shakes his head.\n\n“I reckon I didn’t, Billy Bob,” he says.\n\nBilly Bob turns to his companion seated in the middle of the table.\n\n“What about you Trevor?”\n\nTrevor twitches his head to the left and hawks a glob of phlegm into a spittoon by the Mexican’s feet. Billy Bob guffaws at that.\n\n“See, *amigo*? Now, when you approached us outside and told us you had some merchandise for us, I ‘spected somethin’ a ‘mite more impressive than an ancient little Colt,” he says. “Being the tolerant men ‘o God that me, Trevor and Johnny-Lee here are, I thought we’d see what you’d have to offer. Nows I’m thinking that I might just blow your head off ‘fore I go my merry way.”\n\n“*No… Por favor no… Tengo esposa e hijos, ¡ay Dios!*”\n\n“Then I reckon you either show us something worth our while or skidadle ‘fore I come to my senses.”\n\n“C’mon Billy Bob, I hadn’t a good killing since ‘fore Tuesday,” Johnny-Lee says, leaning forward and resting a pair of bony elbows on the table. “I got me hankerin’ for Mexican.”\n\n“Now, now Johnny-Lee. Remember what the good book says: '*seven times seventy*,'” Billy Bob says. He pauses and raises an eyebrow. “Course, Mexicans don’t know math, so I’m figuring once is enough for our *amigo* here.”\n\n“No, please. I have the thing *para ustedes*,” the Mexican says, rushing off into the back. The three travelers are momentarily left alone.\n\n“Don’t know why the fuck you thought *La Culebra* of all places’d be a good place to wait out the heat. Place is in the middle of bumfuck nowhere,” says Trevor. Lugubrious and laconic, the old man speaks through lips hidden by a drooping handlebar mustache.\n\n“Are you kiddin’ me? Sure, we’re the only *gringos* ‘round these parts, but the people here are scared stiffer ‘n the Devil on Sunday of us. Ain’t nobody gonna sic the law on us here. A fellow can do whatever he likes,” says Billy Bob.\n\n“Yeah, exactly!”\n\n“Shut the fuck up Johnny,” says Trevor.\n\nThe Mexican returns with a strongbox made of solid oak in between his hands.\n\n“*Esto era para otro cliente, pero semejantes piezas solo son para caballeros como ustedes*.”\n\n“Quit yer’ prattlin’,” Billy Bob says. “Whatcha got there?”\n\nThe Mexican fiddles with the box’s cast-iron lock. The lid sports an insignia that has been branded into the wood: U.S. ARMY.\n\nWith nary a squeak, the lid smoothly swivels open.\n\nBilly Bob offers a low whistle.\n\n“Now that’s what I call merchandise. We’ll take ‘em.”\n\n“*Serían catorce dolares, señor*.”\n\n“Just a minute, *amigo*,” says Billy Bob. He reaches into the box and pulls out heavy, gleaming iron: a dragoon pistol. Clucking in admiration, he lovingly thumbs the supple wooden grip and then snaps open the revolver’s cylinder. Six .44 caliber lead balls dully glint in the dusty afternoon light.\n\nBilly Bob snaps the cylinder shut.\n\n“I never said we’d pay for 'em,” he says, leveling the weapon at the Mexican's face. The revolver roars in his hand.\n", "\"... And this was my grandfather's.\" He pulled out the last box and set it on the table in front of them. It was an ornate wooden box that smelled of rich mahogany. It was clearly very old as most of the original carvings had been worn away over the decades. There were remnants of what looked like trees, perhaps some smoke clouds as well. The only engravings that remained clear were the intials \"JPR\" etched on the bottom left, presumably standing for the original owner.\n\nInside the box was an old revolver. The handle of the gun, like the box that had housed it, was worn from overuse and years of neglect thereafter. The rest of the gun had become almost entirely rust covered. The idea of taking it outside to try shooting it was unappealing at best, criminally negligent at worst. \n\nThe man and his two friends sat there looking at it. The grandson sat there with a mostly straight face, though with shades of disappointment, staring at the gun. His friend grabbed the Guinness next to the gun and took a sip. \"Neat.\" They continued watching the Browns throw away their season. ", "A collective sigh emanated from the men.\n\nOne by one they stood and pushed two rounds into the chambers until the last man placed the revolver on the table, loaded and cocked.\n\nSaid one to the other, \"I have a family you know. Back in Conneticut.\"\n\n\"We all have families, snub,\" said the other, his head in his hands, \"Don't try to get out of this. Just…man up and -\", he broke off with a catch in his voice.\n\nThe first man sat back resignedly and stared directly at the revolver with an intensity that had nothing to do with imminent gunpowder and lead. Eyes wide, it was apparent to the others that a life lived and unlived was passing before him. \n\nWith a creak, the silent third eased himself off his chair. \"Waiting will bring no joy. Let's finish this.\"\n\nThe second man sighed into his hands and looked up.\n\n\"I suppose you're right but…I can't just..\", he mumbled into silence.\n\nThe second man jerked out of his dream and stared in horror at the third, saying, \"And just how do you expect this to go? Who stays?\"\n\n\"If I do it right, no one stays. You have to trust me on this. I've done it before.\"\n\n\"You've…you've what?! How can you have! That's impossible!\"\n\n\"No,\" said the first, \"i've seen him do it. I just…didn't recognize him till now.\"\n\nThe third made no indication he heard him. \"Ready?\"\n\nThe first man trembled. The second man sighed. They each stood.\n\n\"Alright. I'll go first,\" announced the second. He stepped forward and picked up the revolver. Holding it in one hand, barrel to his temple, he fired. \n\nThe third walked round the table and extracted the revolver from the remains. Placing it on the table, he looked toward the first.\n\n\"I…I can't!\" said the first. His eyes had regained their look of horror from before. The third man could see his nerve leaving him.\n\n\"You know there's no other option,\" reminded the third.\n\nStumbling backwards, the first man appeared ready to run.\n\n\"You won't make it. No one ever has.\"\n\n\"Not like this!\" screamed the first, turning to run.Before he could complete his turn, tendrils of inky darkness whipped around his body and compressed him into the blackness. No sound was heard.\n\nThe third man stared where the first had vanished, trying to see something. Anything. Every time at least one ran. But each time he could never see what it was that took him.\n\nWell, it was for the best. There really was no other choice. \n\n\"Next time, can I please be taller? This race doesn't cater towards height and people tend to look over me. It's rather disconcerting.\"\n\n**YOU WILL BE WHAT YOU ARE DECIDED TO BE** a voice intoned from nowhere in particular.\n\nThe third sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot. There was no point arguing, but it made him feel more human to do it. \n\nPicking up the revolver, he spun the chamber once, then emptied it. That was the funny thing about the deal they all made. Even if you read the fine print, no one ever understood that pulling the trigger doesn't imply loading the chamber.\n\nPlacing the pistol against his own temple, he closed his eyes and breathed.\n\n**WOULD YOU HURRY, THERE'S A PARTY SCHEDULED FOR FOUR.**\n\nOh seriously. He pulled the trigger.", "No one had spoken for a while.\n\n\"Well I'm not getting rid of it.\" said Niall. \n\"You're the one who fucking killed him.\" Graham shot an accusatory glare across the table. \"I'm far more likely to be caught with it. Either of you two would garner far less suspicion. \" Niall said. Graham leaned forwards as if someone could hear them. \"As far as I'm concerned, I can still keep my hands clean of this. I can walk away and no one need know I was here. I don't see why we shouldn't keep things that way. It's only fair.\" \"Fair?\" exclaimed Niall, \"What's fair is everyone doing their bit.\" \"Well that's easy for you to say,\" replied Graham, \"you've seen to doing 'your bit' already. Maybe some of us don't want to damn ourselves.\" Niall ran a nervous hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. Graham stared at the gun and then lifted his gaze upwards. \"What do you think?\"\n\nJon had sat quietly observing the exchange. He began softly, \"I don't believe any of us have disposed of a gun before.\" A communal silence confirmed this. \"So,\" he continued, \"in the event of our failure in the task, Niall's fingerprints will be found on the gun. It would be rational for him to take it and so imply nobody else.\" Niall stood up and paced the room. \"So, so I stick it in a canal? We all have a bonfire? I throw it in the garbage truck, what?\" he said. Graham was about to answer when there was a noise at the door. Niall froze. Jon adjusted himself in his seat. Graham stood up and cautiously made his way over to the door. He opened it. \n\n\"Help me.\" came the voice from the floor. \"Oh for fuck's sake.\" said Graham turning to look at Niall. \"Hey, I'm not killing him again.\" said Niall. After a moment's unsure silence, Jon reached for the revolver.", "The large man, the one named Peter, reached for the revolver.\n\n\"Get out of the way, Eric. It's time he got what he deserved.\"\n\nEric stood hurriedly, arms outstretched. \"Don't do it, Pete! He didn't know any better!\"\n\nPeter shook his head. \"He doesn't get a second chance, Eric. Some things can't be forgiven.\"\n\n\"He's just a boy, for God's sake!\"\n\n\"He should have known better.\"\n\nHe swung the gun at the boy who stared back, wild-eyed. \"I'm sorry, O.P., but I have to. Next time, don't have errors in the prompt.\"\n\nHe pulled the trigger." ]

[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 8, 27 ]

[ "1401585073", "1401592825", "1401594953", "1401595623", "1401596384", "1401597827", "1401621428", "1401589348", "1401592159", "1401585832", "1401586886", "1401582517", "1401579259" ]

[ "“Ring ring” the message alert tone woke me up from my afternoon nap. I have been working all night through this morning and this is the only time I was supposed to sleep. Thank god, this didn’t wake my little princess. I blamed myself for not putting my mobile on silent mode. I took my phone and opened the message. \n“You are selected for Project Z, report at the headquarters at 10:00 AM tomorrow”. \nI jumped up from my couch. My heart started beating faster. My chest was heavy and my hands started trembling. I sat down, closed my eyes and tried to comprehend the things. \nIt is a life changing scenario. I never thought this will happen to me. I am being selected as a spy to work against my own people. They will wipe out my memories and instill their programmed memories in my head for the rest of my life. I had heard about this scheme from different social websites, but never thought this one would happen to me.\n \nI tried to imagine what would happen the next day. They have specialized instruments to wipe out my memories and reconfigure the brain cells to have an entirely different memories. The whole process might take less than 30 minutes, but will make me forget my 30 years of life. I will not remember who my parents are or with whom I spent my college days. I will not be remembering my wife or my playful daughter. Instead, I will be fed with their programmed memories- filled with hatred against my own people. I will be more like a machine than a human being from tomorrow onwards. \n\nI can’t imagine why I have been selected for this- I was never part of any activities against the government openly. I never showed up for the employees’ protest last month demanding the minimum pay of 1$ per day and less than 12 working hours per day. I have been a silent person till now- and boom- this is what you get for being a nice person. \n\nI tried calling my wife, though I knew that she doesn’t have access to personal calls until noon tomorrow. By that time, I will be in a different world. I texted her saying the situation, but I doubt whether she will ever receive it as all the calls and messages are censored. \n\nI looked at my sleeping daughter. She is just one year old and I haven’t spent enough time with her. I felt desperate. I wanted to share my feelings with someone. I wanted to tell my wife that I loved her and ask her to keep positive attitude. As I was sure that my daughter will not wake up for at least one more hour, I went out to the local market in an attempt to find some of my friends. I wandered here and there, but couldn’t find any. Of course, most of them are working or sleeping in the secured buildings, which I cannot access.\n\n As I walked past, I noticed the grocery store, which only the rich could afford. At this moment I realized that writing on a paper would be the only reliable thing to convey my feelings to my wife and friends. I went inside and grabbed a white paper and a pen and proceeded to check out. \n“Can you show me your ID please?” The clerk asked me.\n“Why?’ I was totally confused. \n“Paper and pen are restricted goods, you cannot have them without the green ID” She explained. \nI put back my red ID in my pocket. \nMy heart sank. \nI turned back and that is when I noticed the chocolate bar near the checking counter. I took it in my hands and looked at the cashier.\n“Are these restricted too?”\n“No, but they are expensive” \nI checked my ragged pockets and found my 5$ bill, my savings for the year. \nI handed the note to her “Will this be sufficient?”\n“Yes Sir, here is your balance”\nShe gave me a dollar note back to me. “Can I have a soda for this?” I turned the 1$ bill back to her.\n“No Sir, that would be 2$”\nI kept the soda bottle back. I turned my face from her and walked out of the store. \nAs I walked out, I felt a little bit relieved. And for one time in my real life, I can give some tasty food for my daughter. The bland nutritive porridge ration from the government was getting really nasty these days. \n\nIt was the ice that caused me to fall. May be I was too excited to reach home and give the chocolate to my daughter. When getting up, I noticed a thin person in ragged clothes looking at me desperately. I felt a deep calmness in his face. In a dreamy mood, I walked towards him and sat on his side. \n“How are you?” I tried to start the conversation. \nNo response from him – he just looked into my eyes with a blank expression. \n“Can I tell you one thing, I am selected from the project Z”. I was expecting a visible shock, but didn’t seen anything in his eyes. \nI continued “ You know what I mean, I am being selected to spy against my own people. I will not be the same person again”. \nHe didn’t respond. \nI stood up and was about to leave. Then he nodded me to sit down. “Never resist it” \nI didn’t understand. I gave him my remaining dollar bill to him “For your troubles”.\nHe took the note, turned it both ways, stood up and started walking away without any more words. \nI got confused – and that’s when I thought- what will happen if I mentally resist the memory transfer? Will I become insane? \n\nI reached home and found my daughter still sleeping. I looked at the clock. I have eighteen more hours. I kept the chocolate bar on my daughter’s bedside and sat near her, waiting for her to wake up. \n\n", "All I could think to do was to write reminders of all that has happened. I began to panic, it was like a whole new beginning for me, one that I refused to accept. And so it began, I wrote my name on my refrigerator, I wrote my garage code right beneath that. In the fridge I had removed everything non-essential and replaced it with photo albums and other important memories. In the process I managed to spill almost everything on the floor but I was in too big of a panic to worry. Tomorrow I would not remember anything so it was important that I do make it easy for me to be able to find everything. I made a voicemail to myself so that I may remember everything possible. \"Your name is john you are a microbiologist and you will forget all of this by tomorrow morning.\" As I went to bed I almost forgot something very important, something that had changed my life. I sprinted and put it with my photo albums when I slipped on all the juices that had been spilt. The last thing remember is hitting my head on the…\n\n\n\nI feel very dizzy. Everything feels amplified and my head hurts. i looked up to see a refrigerator that had been open. Milk had spilled over what appeared to be some kind of photos due to a broken refrigerator. Ah what was this that I have in my hand? It is some kind of locket that said Anna on the front. I struggled and couldn't get it open so I threw it out. I had finally got the strength to stand up and explored what was around me. Nothing special I had never seen this place before. As a matter of fact this is my first memory of ever existing. My only thought was to check recent calls in order to identify the person who last used it. There was one voicemail so I listened \"Your name is john you are a microbiologist and you will forget all of this by tomorrow morning\". I remembered the locket. My name was Anna, not john so I knew it wasn't talking about me.", "The light turned green and the door slid up, and the man tumbled out onto the floor, glistening with sweat and only partly conscious. He curled up into himself and started shaking, and when Bird and Ten tried to pick him up, he began to sob -- long, gasping and pitiful sobs.\n\n“Come on, lad,” said Bird, gently. “Come on, it’ll be okay.”\n\nTen wrinkled his nose. The man had pissed himself in the tube. But he glanced at Bird and said nothing. Together they dragged him over to the drain in the corner, where Red stood waiting with the hose. The man kicked at them feebly, his eyes rolling and his tongue trying to form words that came out as panicked moans. They dropped him in the corner and scampered back as Red turned on the hose. The man remembered how to scream.\n\nAfterwards he sat blinking at them, wrapped in a towel. They gave him a cup of hot water, which he held but did not drink.\n\n“Do you remember what your name is?” asked Bird, bending down close to the man. When he just gaped at them, Bird nodded. “Your name is Ace, lad. Ace Whiskey. Can you say it? ‘My name is Ace Whiskey.’ Say it, go on.”\n\n“Ace Whiskey,” said Ace, slurring the words.\n\nBird pressed him. “Say the whole thing. ‘My name is Ace Whiskey.’ It helps, I promise.”\n\nAce blinked a few more times, licked his lips, and said it. “My name is Ace Whiskey.” He looked past the three of them at the dim room. “Where am I? Where is this?”\n\n“There’s been a situation, Ace. We’re in some sort of emergency and we don’t know what it is, but our memories have been wiped. Do you understand?”\n\nRed watched as Bird explained to Ace, and he watched Ace watching Bird. Bird had a kind face and steady eyes. Sometimes people panicked but he calmed them down. Sometimes they even got angry, but he held them firmly by the shoulders and talked them through it. Ace took it relatively well. He cried a bit, but nodded in agreement to all of Bird’s instructions.\n\n\"So we stick together and we're fine,\" finished Bird. \"Now come on, let’s get dressed, okay?” Ace sniffed and wiped his nose. He was still shaking when he stood, so all three of them helped him get into his boiler suit. They lead him into the corridor, and Bird pointed at the number painted on the wall. “Follow the numbers, yes? They go up in this direction, and down in that direction. You need to go that way, to Dormitory 5. By the time you get there, the lights will have changed and it’ll be meal time. Remember the lights I mentioned?” Bird pointed. On the wall next to the door, a sign made of small lights read, “Period 9”. Above this was a single red bulb, lit up brightly, with the word, “Emergency” painted next to it. Bird tapped the red bulb.\n\n“The lights will tell you what to do. Watch --” Bird bent down to the lights and spoke clearly. “Which way to Dormitory 5?” The lights blinked, and briefly became an arrow pointing one way down the corridor. Bird smiled at Ace. “Okay? Easy peasy! If you need help, say, ‘I need help’ and someone will come find you. Got it? It’s Period 9 for about fifteen more minutes. Your friends will meet you in Dormitory 5 and take you to the meal hall for Evening Meal.”\n\nAce put a hand on the wall, steadying himself. “How do I know they are my friends?”\n\nBird put a firm hand on Ace’s shoulder and looked him right in the eyes. “We all have to stick together, Ace. Your friends are always your friends. They remember your name and where you sleep and what food you like. You did the same for them when they were wiped. Stick with your friends in Dormitory 5. They’ll let you know the rest.” Then he grinned and slapped him companionably. “Relax! This’ll be over soon. We’ll get our memories back and laugh about it.”\n\nThey watched Ace stumbled down the corridor, his shoes banging unevenly on the metal floor. Ten exhaled loudly when they were out of hearing. “God, did he ever stink! Did I smell that bad when I came out?”\n\nBird laughed. “You came out smelling as sweet as you do now.”\n\nTen stuck his nose deep into his armpit and inhaled. “I smell beautiful!” he concluded. He jumped back, hooting in alarm, as Red advanced with his own arm raised, damp armpit presented.\n\n“Smell it!” demanded Red. “Smell it!” Ten shrieked and ran away, waving at them as he went and shouting, “See you pricks at Meal!”\n\n“He ran off without cleaning up again.”\n\n“Leave it,” said Bird, shutting the door. “We can get it in the morning.” He bent down and talked into the lights. “Signing off wipe room. Bird December, Red Quebec, Ten Horses.” The lights flickered green in affirmation. A buzzing alarm sounded twice in the corridor, and the lights blinked, changing to, “Evening Meal”. Doors opened on the corridor and men emerged, stretching and sighing and slapping each other on the backs. Red and Bird joined the movement towards the meal hall, and they were soon in a press of bodies and boiler suits smelling of sweat and oil. It became very noisy, with hundreds of feet clanging along the floor and men shouting at each other over their heads, and then they knew they were getting close from the roar of hundreds of men talking all at once. They passed through the big double doors into the meal hall.\n\nAll the food dispensers already had long lines in front of them, so they took a minute to find Ace Whiskey. He was sitting at a long table with his dorm mates, who were laughing together and encouraging him to eat. When Bird asked, the men shouted all shouted out. “He’s fine! He’s back to his old self!” Ace looked around him and said he agreed. Then he swirled the green paste on his tray, and finally offered, “I don’t like the food though.” The table erupted in general hilarity.\n\n“Breakfast is better!” laughed Bird.\n\n“Lies! Lies!” shouted the men at the table, and one cried out, “You’ll never forget how much you hate it until they *make* you forget it!” More laughter. Ace laughed too, and Bird saw this and nodded.\n\nTen found them at the table, appearing out of nowhere and slamming his tray down with a clang. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, how art thou? Didst ye cleaneth up?”\n\n“Left it for you,” said Bird.\n\nTen clucked his tongue and started eating. Between mouthfuls, he reported the gossip. The hydroponic farms that had broken had been fixed. The second cleaning team was hunting whoever was stuffing up the toilets with paper in Dormitory 8. Frank and Ant from the Generator team had gotten into a fight and everyone agreed they’d be wiped again.\n\n“Why were they fighting?” asked Red.\n\nTen shrugged and kept eating. “Who knows? All these men trapped down here in an emergency, things get tense. Just makes sense to wipe them again. Keep the peace, best thing to do.”\n\n“No, I mean, were they fighting about the Generator? Something to do with, with how it works?”\n\n“What?” Ten looked up and saw Red staring right at him, his eyes narrow and insistent. “I don’t know why they were fighting, Red! What difference does it make?”\n\nRed chewed his lip for a moment, his eyes going distant. Then he dropped his eyes to his plate and concentrated on eating. Ten turned to Bird and gestured at Red, but Bird only shook his head. Ten shrugged again. “Well anyway, bet we get a notice about it soon. Anyone want to bet? Bet you a day off?”\n\nFive minutes later, they noticed a younger man walking hesitantly in their direction, scanning the faces. He had a card in his hand, and they vaguely recognized him as one they’d wiped a few days earlier. Ten raised his hand and waved at him. “This’ll be us now, bet you anything!”\n\n“You ever notice how none of us take your bets?” said Bird. He nodded towards the young men when he spotted them. His face brightened with relief and he hurried right up to Bird, ignoring Ten’s waving.\n\n“I'm glad I found you, Bird! The lights said to give this to you?”\n\n“Yes, lad, good work.” Bird accepted the card, and then Ten and Red had to wait an interminable minute while Bird asked how the guy was doing and all sort of other questions that had nothing to do with the card, which sat on the table refusing to open no matter how hard Ten stared at it. But finally Bird did open it and read what it said. He read in silence for a long moment.\n\nTen huffed, impatient. “So? Frank and Ant, yeah? They been put on the schedule for tomorrow, yeah?”\n\n“Yes,” said Bird, lowering the card. “Frank and Ant are on there. First thing tomorrow.”\n\n“I win the bet then!” said Ten, tapping the table and smirking. “You both owe me two days off. You probably don’t remember making the bet, so it’s good I can remind you. We stick together, as they say!”\n\nBird’s face was very still. “Red is also getting wiped tomorrow.”\n\nTen was caught with his mouth open, so he kept it there and gaped at Bird. Then he gaped at Red as well, opening and closing his mouth a few times for emphasis. Red put his spoon down carefully and folded his arms, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.\n\nBird leaned toward Red and lowered his voice so that only the three of them could hear over the ruckus in the hall. “What’s happened, Red?”\n\n“You just got wiped --!” began Ten, but Bird hissed at him and he got the hint. He began again in a whisper. “You just got wiped like thirty cycles ago, Red. You should be done.”\n\n“We all should be done,” agreed Bird. “None of us remember anything from before the emergency. We each been wiped at least twice. That should be it.”\n\nTen pressed in closer. “Have you been fighting?” He pressed in still closer, eyes wide. “Are you the toilet stuffer?”\n\n“Ten, for God’s sake!” Bird pushed him back into his seat and turned back to Red. “So something’s happened. Whatever it is, Red, we’re your friends. We stick together.”\n\n\"We stick together,” agreed Ten.\n\nRed lowered his eyes and looked at them each hard. At last he said, “I’m glad this happened. This confirms something, and now --” He nodded at them and smiled, a bright, confident smile. “We stick together. I know we do. Meet me in the records room after Evening Clean.”\n\nHe picked up his tray and was lost in the crowd.\n\n[Part 2 when it’s done!]", "\"12\n\nDear Self, \n\nYou idiot. \n\nBy the time you read this, your memories will have been wiped. I don't know exactly how much they're going to take. But I had to warn you: don't. I know what you're probably thinking - I'm you, after all. \"My memories have been wiped! Sweet! I'm like a secret agent or something! I'll embark on a quest and recover them and fight evil forces, get the girl, blah blah blah.\" No. No. No, you fool. This was voluntary.\n\nI don't know if I can really prove I'm you. I'd tell you something only I know, but by the time you read this, you won't know it. I could tell you how you got that scar on the first joint of your right index finger, but anyone could have noticed it and made something up, or learned the story. (picked up a shard of glass on the way to Kindergarten. Yeah, we were dumb as a kid). The best I can do is hide this in a place only I would know to look. Multiple copies, of course. The version you're reading now is the one I hid in our personal copy of the Book of Ecclesiastes - almost no one knows it's my favorite. Hopefully it's still yours. I don't know.\n\nSo I'm just going to implore you. Don't. Please. It's not worth it. No one gazes upon the Sleeper of the Dead City and retains a whole mind. We need this to stay excised from our brain. \n\n...\n\nIt's not going to work, is it? You're too damned curious. Damn you, me. Damn you. Why can't you just leave it alone? Why am I so stupid?\n\nFine. You stupid self-destructive *moron*. I knew it would come to this: see the number at the top? Bet you wondered about that, huh? That's the number of times we've gone through this. That's right, you've had your mind wiped that many times. When you finally, inevitably realize I was right, call Thomas and schedule an appointment. His number's on the back. Just tell him \"the usual, please\". He'll know what to do.\n\nOh, and write yourself a note. See if you can make it more convincing. Maybe someday, I'll get through to me.\n\nSincerely, \n\nYou\"\n************************************************\nTears splotted down onto the page. Trembling hands reached towards a piece of paper, and a pen. The man began to write across the top:\n\n\"13\n\nDear Self...\"", "\"Hey Dad.\"\n\n\"Oh hi Gerald, how is your mother?\"\n\n\"She's out doing some grocery shopping, did you want to go for a walk in the meantime?\"\n\n\"Sure, but where am I?\"\n\n\"This is a treatment facility for...for people with memory problems. You'll be out of here in no time.\"\n\n______________________________\n\n\"Hey Dad.\"\n\n\"Oh hi Gerald, how is your mother? You look older than I remember.\"\n\n\"She's out doing some grocery shopping, did you want to go for a walk in the meantime?\"\n\n\"Sure, but where am I?\"\n\n\"This is a treatment facility for people with, for people with memory problems. You'll be out of here in no time.\"\n\n______________________________\n\n\"Hey Dad.\"\n\n\"Oh hi Gerald, how is your mother?\"\n\n\"She's out doing some grocery shopping, did you want to go for a walk in the meantime?\"\n\n\"Sure, but where am I?\"\n\n\"This is a treatment facility for people with memory problems. You'll be out of here in, I can't do this anymore. Dad, Mom has been dead for ten years. Dad? Dad!\"\n\n\"Oh hi Gerald, how is your mother?\"", "Tomorrow your memory will be erased. You will wake up and yet again forget all of this, red fields of Mars, unicorns, monsters, the worlds you saved. There is no other like you -- they all sleep, but only you are here each night, to save yet another land, to defeat a dragon, to fix a critical malfunction, to prevent a nuclear crisis.\n\nWe studied you, as we watched your travels. Our devices can see the entire multiverse, even though we can not touch it. But you, in your dreams, go through it all freely, always in some place that needs help, sometimes grabbing a child from under a car, sometimes stopping a galactic war.\n\nWe were not religious, but now some of us are. They follow your boring day life, the job you dislike, and look for clues. Who would you save next night? Is that pile of paper on your desk a clue, an omen of those bone-white alien ships you stopped from erasing the sun? And the portrait of your frowning boss in your notepad looks just like a bloodthirsty god that you have banished from his ruby temple.\n\nI do not believe in such nonsense. But if I do not, I have to believe it is all a game of chance.\n\nYou save the wonders of the multiverse, but you can never be there to truly witness them. \n\nNow you are the most important person in all of the known worlds. But tomorrow you will wake up, and you will only find fragments of your dreams, amusing just enough to make your girl laugh.\n\nBut maybe just that is worth it all." ]

[ 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5 ]

[ "1401630004", "1401680959", "1401854777", "1401642757", "1401634784", "1401623821" ]

[ "**Alright, listen up. I know we've spent a lot of time thinking about time travel and paradox and all that jazz. You and both know we can't start messing with the past - I mean your future. Well my past, your future. But we both know we can mess with my future.... and your far off future.** \n\nYeah, how old am I now? I mean then? I mean when I'm in the future. Wait, shit. I get what you mean. We better not go there. Even knowing how old you - er I am...are when we make this call could disrupt everything. Ok, better get on with it. The guys are coming over to play Rise of the Triad in a bit and may rent Star Trek Generations or something from Blockbuster later tonight. \n\n\n**Jeeze, I really was that nerdy. Ok, that might make this that much easier to handle. I guess I should give you more credit. Sorry, it's been a while.** \n\nSo you're saying we become cool? Wait don't answer that. \n\n**Nice you got it. Ok. I want you to buy Apple Computer stock. As much as you can. Keep buying it and put it in an account. Set it up so all dividends get reinvested. Go see a lawyer and set up a trust.** \n\nApple? Are you crazy? \n\n**Shut up. Just listen. You need to make it so that you can't access it until June 11, 2014. Set up a trust fund or something.** \n\nFuuuuuuck. You're calling from June 10th, 2014! That's like Back To the Future shit right there. Are there hoverboards and hover cars yet?\n\n**No dumbass, that doesn't happen until next year, in 2015. I'm kidding. I mean, you don't need to know if that happens. Stop messing with the timeline!**\n\nSo what are we going to do with the money? \n\n**I don't know yet. I was just given this opportunity. I'll have to figure this out tomorrow. Maybe I should buy a boat?**\n\nA boat? Do I like boats in the future? \n\n**No, sorry, that's an internet joke.** \n\nAn internet joke? Like AOL? Cause it sure doesn't sound very funny. \n\n**Ok, it's not really.** \n\nFine. Whatever, ok I'm going to go by some apples tomorrow. \n\n**Apple stock! STOCK YOU IDIOT.** \n\nStock what? Of course, I'm just messing with you. So what else?\n\n**Um... that's it. Stay in school?**\n\nStay in school? Do I drop out of school??\n\n**No, I just... I just don't have anything else I can say. Sorry.** \n\nOk, well, this got awkward. \n\n**Yep. Ok. get the stock. Set up the trust. Dont' forget June..**\n\nI know, June 11th, 2014. Gotcha. \n\n**Ok, later me.**\n\nOk.... well, this was odd. Yep. Later. \n\n*<click>*\n\n\n\n", "**Hey Kid.**\n\nWhy do you always call me that? I’m 16 I’m not a kid anymore. Hell I can drive now for crying out loud\n\n**You’ll understand….**\n\n...when I’m older? God you’re weird.\n\n**No more than you are. How’ve you been?**\n\nYou know how I’ve been. You’re me.\n\n**Humor me.**\n\nWell…..I got my license, told you that already....got my first speeding ticket\n\n**Oh shit I remember that, God I thought dad was going to lock me up forever.**\n\nRight?!? The old man was surprisingly cool about that.\n\n**Don’t call him that.**\n\nWhy not? You did.\n\n**Yeah but…...just don’t. He’s dad.**\n\nFiiiiiiiiiiine. Anyways, I started going out with this girl Julie….\n\n**Julie! Oh wow, I forgot all about her. She’s the one with the brown hair, always carried around that notebook with her, she always smelled like…**\n\nStrawberries! It’s amazing. Wait if you don’t remember her does that mean we don’t get married?\n\n**Do you really want to know?**\n\nI dunno, do I?\n\n**Lets leave that one alone for now. Spoilers.**\n\nBut…\n\n**Fine, no, she thinks you’re not mature enough.**\n\nOh that’s bullshit, I’m totally mature enough.\n\n**You get to feel her boobs though.**\n\nOh….well then I guess it’s not that bad.\n\n**You can do better.**\n\nDo I….never mind.\n\n**What?**\n\nNo it’s embarrassing.\n\n**This is me you’re talking to, I literally know embarrassing thing you’ve ever done, and a bunch you’re about to do.**\n\nDo I…...you know…….do I ever fall in love? You never really talk about that.\n\n**Oh. That’s hard to answer.**\n\nThis doesn’t bode well for me.\n\n**No no its not like that it’s just….ok yes you fall in love…..a lot. Sometimes it feels like you do it too much.**\n\nBut what about…...does someone ever love me back?\n\n**Yeah....that's the hard part. I dunno how to answer that just yet. Ask me next time we talk.**\n\nWhat about you?\n\n**What about me.**\n\nYou always call and ask how I’m doing, how are you doing?\n\n**Oh, I...we...do ok. I have a good job, I bought a house….I have….I dunno….decent credit.**\n\nDecent credit? That’s boooooooring, tell me about all the rad shit we get to do. Do we ever go diving in the Great Barrier Reef like we always wanted to.\n\n**Yup, did that.**\n\nDid you ever make it to Alaska?\n\n**Yes dude, it was soooooooo rad!**\n\nYou still say rad?\n\n**Yeah, heh, I guess I do. Why does that surprise you, people stopped using it at your age too.**\n\nYeah but, I dunno, I always said it BECAUSE no one else said it.\n\n**You were very clever.**\n\nYou’re mocking me.\n\n**Yes, yes I am.**\n\nSeriously though what about all the adventures and stuff I want to do. The book I want to write, the script I wrote for that TV show.\n\n**Oh my god, the book! Wow kid, I guess I kinda forgot about all those things.**\n\nHow could you forget that’s literally all I think about.\n\n**I dunno. I’m not blowing you off, I legitimately don’t remember how that happened. I guess I just grew out of it.**\n\nOh. Well, what you do now, this job you refuse to tell me about. Is it fun?\n\n**No it’s work, hehe. It’s not supposed to be fun it just pays the bills.**\n\nThat sounds kinda shitty.\n\n**Yeah it does sound kinda shitty when I say it out loud.**\n\nWhy didn't you just become a writer?\n\n**You know how much money writers make?**\n\nYeah but we’re better than they are. Every teacher we’ve ever had said so.\n\n**It’s too risky, I wanted to have financial stability.**\n\nSo you decided to do a boring job so you could not be happy. At least you’re financially stable.\n\n**I don’t remember being this sarcastic at your age**\n\nListen, if I tell you something, do you promise not to be mad.\n\n**Of course not, you’re me.**\n\nI’m…….I’m kinda disappointed in you.\n\n**I know.**\n\nI’m not mad or anything…..I just……..I thought we’d be better.\n\n**I know. I did too.**\n\nHey listen mom’s home, she’s doing tacos tonight.\n\n**Holy shit taco night! I miss taco night. Ok I’ll let you go. Kiss mom for me...us.**\n\nOk. Listen….you’re gonna……...you’re gonna call again, right?\n\n**Of course I will. You’ve given me a lot to think about.**\n\nCool. I’ll talk to you then.\n\n**Later kid.**\n\n\\*click\\*\n" ]

[ 1, 5 ]

[ "1402443992", "1401664831" ]

[ "'I never called my mother after I got home from visiting. Why didn't I? It was a simple thing. It was a lovely visit. And I didn't visit dad. The Grave yard is on the way.'\n\nBOOOOOM! The first attempt fails. \n\nI never finished the second bedroom renovations. They were coming along nicely. Marie was going to help paint it. I never could figure out that painting business.\n\n\"Sir! What do we do?' yells the corporal shaking me out of my stupor. 'One more rpg and they are through that wall. we need orders!\"\n\nWhat does he want? What could I possibly say? I was promoted because I was told to leave the chopper for that young couple.\n\n\"Sir. We need orders!'\n\nBOOOOOOM! The wall collapses. Bullets start pouring in.\n\n\"Sir! Orders! Now! We need orders!\"\n\nI stare up at the young man, dried blood covers his face. Dried blood and terror. I glance at the wall. Then back at the young corporal. What else can I say....? I answer him.\n\n\"fight.\"", "“They made it past the river! They are advancing!” The private screamed to his commanding squad leader.\n\t“We need to retreat!” Another private screamed.\n\t“Shut your mouth son! We were given an order to defend this building at all costs! And we will defend this building. I don’t care if every other squad has fallen back; we are not going to give them an inch! Am I clear?” The lieutenant ordered.\n\t“Yes sir!” the four man squad shouted in unison.\n\t“Watson, set up a machine gun on the roof and cover the south and west streets that lead here. Morrison, take your M1 and set up on the north side of the building. There are several empty crates that should provide you with enough cover to keep you from getting your head blown to pieces. You cover the alleyway that leads here. Burton, clear the east road so reinforcements can get to us. Monroe, you take the prisoner upstairs, and make sure he stays tied to his chair (the squad had taken a messenger hostage, and tied him down to a chair).” The lieutenant ordered.\n\tWatson climbed on the roof and set up his machine gun on the corner of the building in order to cover both streets. He said “These Krauts are never going to know what hit them.” He saw ten or so Germans approaching the building to the south. He did not shoot immediately, but waited in order to draw them out. He gazed upon the enemy soldiers. They were not old scruffy mean men, but boys. They looked to be fresh recruits, who were as “bad” as he was. They came closer to the building, but he couldn’t shoot. He finger was frozen on the trigger. He had never killed anyone before.\n\tThe lieutenant glanced out the window to see the enemy closing in on the building. He knew that Watson was chocking, he had seen it a dozen times. He pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the enemy through the windows. He shot twice. The enemy was instantly alerted, and began blind firing back. Watson, even though he was not being shot at, reacted to the German fire and pulled the trigger. Machine gun fire roared from the roof. It seemed as if every bullet hit its mark. The Germans ran for cover, but found none.\n\tTo the north Morrison was set up behind the supply crates. He saw a couple of Krauts rushing down the alley, and he opened fire. They were both surprised, and had to cover. He dropped them both with one shot each. After firing he then saw dozens of Germans running down the north alleyway screaming. He couldn’t take them all. He saw that they were running towards a bus in the middle of the road, and hiding behind it. They would pop out from the windows and fire back. He was pinned down, and couldn’t fire back.\n\t“I need some support over here!” Morrison yelled.\n\tThe lieutenant heard him, and grabbed his M1 Garand. He ran out the building towards where Morrison was. While he was running a bullet hit him dead center in the chest. He grasped for breath, but couldn’t take in any. The gasping stopped, and the squad leader died. Enraged Morrison pulled the pin on his only grenade, and threw it at the bus. After he threw it he stood up and began unleashing fire. His clip ran out, and the Germans began rushing forward towards him. He pulled out his pistol, and started firing that in a last effort. He killed some, but more kept on charging. The Germans came closer, and would be on him any minute. He panicked, and turned the gun on himself, and shot himself. \n\tMonroe watched the scene unfold from the second floor window. He had his pistol out, but left his rifle downstairs. His back was turned on the prisoner. The messenger, still tied to the chair, charged at Monroe. He head butted Monroe, and knocked him over. Monroe dropped his pistol. The prisoner them turned around and thrust the back of the chair onto Monroe. The chair broke, and the rope tying him to the chair came loose. His arms were now free, and he began to choke Monroe. With one hand he choked, and with the other he punched him in the face. Monroe stopped moving, and let out one last breath.\n\tThe messenger came running out of the building towards the north. He tried to reunite with his countrymen, but they mistook him for an American and shot him multiple times. Meanwhile, Watson managed to keep the south and west sides clear. The Germans from the north charged into the building. One soldier ran upstairs, and heard gunshots coming from the roof. He found the source of the shots, and shot upwards through the ceiling. One bullet hit Watson in the stomach. It wasn’t fatal, but after he was shot his body reacted by jerking over to his left side. He couldn’t control it, and he fell off the building. He snapped his neck, and was killed. \n\tBurton saw all that was happening, and decided to run for it. He reasoned that he would only die if he stayed, and wouldn’t an alive soldier be better than a dead one? He ran to the east, fleeing from danger. He eventually made it back to the rest of his platoon, and was reassigned to another squad. He was shot and killed three months later.\n\n\nEdit: sorry the formatting messed up, and the paragraphs are not showing.\n", "(First time I've ever posted on my phone, not sure how this will turn out.)\nCaptain Hawkes raised herself from the ash and blood around her, sword firmly in hand, armor stained crimson. We could no longer see the sun- soot from our burning city and the Damned's siege machines blocked out those last rays of hope, leaving us, the last one hundred men and women, fighting for life in the sudden, unwelcoming darkness.\n\n\n\"Listen to me, all of you!\" Hawkes screamed over the roar of the approaching siege machines. \"You are all that is left. YOU are all that stands in the way of 100,000 soulless creatures from raping your wives and children, slaughtering your families and burning your homes to the ground.\" Many soldiers began slamming on their shields in a show of loyalty. Good way to inspire a person, threats against their family. \"YOU are all that stands in the way of the Damned from getting to the Capitol! When they write the history of this war, this will be the defining moment! They will sing songs about us for generations come!\" We were all cheering now, smashing the hilts of our swords into our shields. Even I must admit, I was a bit disillusioned at my name being sung by bards in taverns and palaces.\n\n\nThe gates before us began to buckle under the pressure of their massive Clockwork Ram.\n\n\n\"They will breach these walls any second, soldiers! Hold the line, men! Reinforcements will be here within the hour! Put these bastards in the ground!\" An astounding roar from the remaining one hundred troops seemed to fill the soul with fire.\n\n\nThe gates burst open. A volley of crossbow bolts soared across the gap between us.\n\n\nCaptain Hawkes was the first to fall.\n", "(Posting from phone, we'll see how this goes)\n\n\nI wasn't born a soldier, and I sure as hell didn't want to be one when I was growing up. I'm of the belief that humanity is a peaceful lot, and it's the bad eggs who enjoy violence. But men make mistakes, it's what we do as humans. We fall down but get right back up.\n\nNow honestly, the only reason I volunteered when that damned civil war arose was to keep my family safe. Now, I stand with my remaining comrades-in-arms in this hellhole of a town as we await an assault from an enemy that far exceeds our capabilities. I guess that I didn't make the smartest decision, moving to the edge of the No-Man's Land, but it was ironically the easiest place to keep my family safe, with them huddled in shelters not fifty miles from our army, as safe a place as I can afford them while still granting them what meager time I have free. It's a tedious life for both my wife and my children, and to an extent I feel it too, both when I patrol and when I return to them. But we get through it, we're human after all.\n\nNow, as I stand at the gates waiting for reinforcements on foot that won't get here soon enough, I prepare my last meal. I always wanted to be a chef, in fact, it was just last summer at the State Fair that I prepared food in a tiny little shack for fair attendees. I'm overjoyed to say that although it wasn't the best, it was good enough for over a thousand people, and when I finished the week of work I was proud of my cooking, even if i did muff up a couple times. The stove is burning, the wood inside heating my last portion of eggs as I scramble them. \n\nAs I go to add more pieces of wood to the stove, there's a knock on the door. I leave the stove, promising myself I won't forget my eggs and burn them like I did last time when we were rounded up to fight. I'm a little nervous, with so few numbers it's certain we won't survive long enough to see dusk--in fact, as I mull over my fate, I allow myself a fantasy, dying next to my comrades in front of the large gate, our staunch bastion throughout our defense. Returning to present, I open the door in time to see my panicked sergeant as he nervously fidgets, waiting for me.\n\n\"I've got something to ask ya, can I come in? I've been thinking about your family, and I know that if you die they'll be helpless just fifty-odd miles from the battlefield,\" he stammers out. \"I've been thinking, how open would you be to possibly deserting the gatehouse to get your family to safety?\"\n\n\"Absolutely not sir, I'm not a fool! I'll be scapegoated for a battle that's already lost and my family will be humiliated--and our pride is the only thing we've got left.\"\n\n\"Alright, suit yourself. I hope you realize that ya' won't live to see tomorrow, Tom. I could have set you up on the winning side with a guaranteed new life, but now you don't get a fresh start!\" \n\nI begin to mull over his words even as I usher him out the door, and by the time I return my eggs have blackened. Beyond salvation, I begin to ponder what was suggested. It's a human response, I tell myself. Nobody is infallible, certainly not in war. The enemy *is* just across the door and they outnumber us five to one, and fight like demons with their blades. I hope my wife and kids survive the next few days, they're all they have in this world, because I'll soon be gone too. My eye catches on the still burning stove, I think I've gotten an idea.\n\n\n--\n\n\nThe fire spreading throughout the town under the shadow of the looming gates, I can only trust that my family evacuates once they see the huge cloud of smoke arising from my house. I hope they think I died a heroic death, it will ease my desertion, I imagine they'll find the sergeant's body that I left there. It's a shame this was such a rout but I suppose as death approaches through the undefended gates, I have to accept the fact that I'm only human.", "Every rumble is accompanied by a thin trickle of dust that hangs in the air, ready to choke each passing man. Flashlight beams became less beacons, more tethers. Holding together five men and thirteen civilians as they sealed the manhole behind them.\n\n\"Down.\"\n\nDown deeper, ever deeper. At first modern tiled passages. Neat bundles of pipes and wires. Should be lights, but the thunder has long since snuffed them. Then sewers. Stinking. Now catacombs.\n\nSkulls stare blankly as the lights swipe over them. Now and again one of the small children glances up. Utters a stifled cry. Returns to mewling and dribbling unto its mothers' breast. And still they go deeper.\n\n\"Here\"\n\nThe leader stops in a relatively large chamber. Miles underground at least. Distance doesn't mix with darkness. The soldiers sweep the room. Peek down dark passages leading off in six different directions. A pillar of bones rises up in its center. Femurs.\n\n\"Clear\"\n\nEveryone settles in. One man is having an intense panic attack. Claustrophobia. Pity. His quiet crying and gasping for air lull the children to fitful sleep in the dank humidity.\n\nFour light go out. One remains on in the dark.\n\n\"NO!\"\n\nEveryone is awake in a moment. The children are screaming and crying. And there is no light in the dark.", "THUMB.\n\nThe sound echoed through the city.\n\nTHUMB.\n\nIn a hundred homes, women cowered with their children, in corners and under tables, behind beds and curtains. The older children stood near the doors wielding whatever they had - kitchen knives and wooden planks.\n\nTHUMB.\n\nThe gates shuddered under the strain. The enemy had been hammering at it for hours. The walls were not strong, but they were stronger than the gate. Twenty men swung the ram, crudely fashioned from a large tree, against the gate again and again; behind them, we knew, stood a hundred more. The gate was never meant to hold against such strain. It had been built to keep wolves and brigands out, and to keep goats and children in; not to stand against an army, even a small one.\n\nTHUMB.\n\nWe stood in the courtyard. There were eighty of us, to their hundred-twenty; only forty of ours were armed for war. The rest were farmers, turned out to protect their homes: men as old as forty, children as young as fourteen. They were armed with whatever they could muster. The lucky few had stout spears. Some had a brace of javelins, or a sling and shot. Most had clubs and knives, the same as their sons and brothers guarding their homes. Most would die, before this was over.\n\nThe other forty - my unit - would have to hold the line.\n\nTHUMB.\n\nThe gate was cracking. The enemy was nearly through. Their shouts could be heard clearly, rising in cacophonous cheers as their leader called upon them, pushing them to war, urging them to seek glory and riches in the plunder of this township. The ram crashed against the gate again, splintering the wood and sending slivers flying into the air. We could begin to see the snarling wolf's head that had been carved into the ram, disfigured now from hours of work.\n\nThe man to my left shifted nervously. Our leader called for order, ordered us to close ranks. He gave us no rousing speech, no call to glory. He gave us only an order. A reminder of our training. A reminder of our duty. This village paid tribute to us, paid us homage, owed their allegiance to us; we owed them our protection from barbarians and invaders, from other cities. And so we stood.\n\nTHUMB.\n\nOur ranks were closed. My shield covered the man to my left. The man to my right covered me with his shield. A spear jutted over my shoulder. The phalanx had been drilled into us for years, and we fell into it with ease. The townsfolk behind us had no such training; they knew only that they must fight and, if need be, die here, or everything they knew and loved would be raped, and that which could not be taken would be burned. For a moment I envied them their zeal, the passion they had born of necessity.\n\nBut only a moment.\n\nWith a terrifying crash the crossbeam shattered. The gates swung open, and like painted daemons the enemy poured through. The terrible work of slaughter had begun.", "\"Hey Jim!\" Rusty whispered from somewhere in the dark. \n\nThe silence of the night was the only reply he received. \n\n\"Jim! You there?\" Rusty was still technically whispering, but it somehow sounded like yelling. \n\n\"Jim?\"\n\n\"Christ! Yes. What do you want?\" Jim's hushed reply emanated from a nebulous and impossibly black shadow off to the left. There was another moment of silence before Rusty answered. \n\n\"You awake?\"\n\n\"Good Lord Rust!\" Jim spat, struggling to contain the decibels escaping from his jowls. \"Of course I'm awake, now shut the hell up before you get us all killed!\"\n\nIf there was any sound emanating from the night, the balmy darkness smothered it without mercy. Seconds, maybe minutes dripped by; it was hard to distinguish between the two. Not even the usual night time bugs and insects dared to betray the stillness with their chatter. You pull the butt of your rifle tight into your shoulder. \n\n\"Hey Jim!\" \n\n\"For fuck's sake, Rusty. You trying to give away our position?\"\n\nAnother pause that barely gave the darkness a chance to repair its wounded silence. \n\n\"I farted.\"\n\nMuted laughter and stifled chuckling break out from half a dozen spots around you. You twist slightly, bringing your rifle in line with one such chortle a bit to your right and roughly thirty feet away. Behind you, you hear a crisp ping as the spoon of a flash-bang springs free and a metallic clang as it hits the rubble-strewn ground. Miles lets the charge cook for a few seconds and tosses it with an audible grunt. You take up the slack on the trigger. \n\nThe flash-bang went off a few feet higher than you would have liked, but it was still enough to sear the image of the enemy scout's face, clearly in a rapid transition from smirk to confusion, into your long-term memory. You make a minor adjustment in aim, and before the darkness even has a chance to muffle the sound of the explosion, squeeze the trigger. \n\nThe darkness worked quickly to stifle both the bang and the flash, taking only slightly longer to dispatch the echos bouncing off the city walls in the distance. The silence quickly becomes more deafening than the concussions. Minutes, perhaps just moments later, you whisper over your left shoulder.\n\n\"Santos!\" No reply is made, but you can soon hear Santos crawling over the shattered bricks and timbers. Even in this abyss of night he manages to avoid disturbing a single piece of debris; the rustling of his uniform is the only thing to betray his location. He falls silent for a bit when he gets to your point of aim. \n\n\"Nice shot Cap.\"\n\n\"Holy shit! That worked?!\" Rusty was suddenly having a hard time containing his laughter. \"Nice work Cap. Balls on a bun, man, I can't believe that actually worked!\"\n\n\"Rusty, you are one crazy SOB.\" This hushed accusation came from Felix, hidden somewhere beyond Rusty. \"A little heads-up next time you pull a stunt like that might be nice though.\"\n\n\"Hey! Cap. and Miles figured it out,\" Rusty retorted. \"It's not like we could use a spot-light to flush him out. Had to try something.\"\n\n\"Well next time you try some crap like that, don't drag me into it.\" Anyone not in the squad would surely mistake Jim's tone for anger and contempt, but you all knew Jim would happily take a bullet for any one of you. More likely than not, he would then cut the bullet out with his teeth, spit it back in the face of whichever unlucky sod managed to shoot him, and proceed to disembowel the poor fellow with a belt buckle.\n\nJim was a good man to have on the squad. \n\n\"Quiet down gents,\" you rebuke gently. \"We need to move. That won't have been the only scout they've sent over the wall looking for us. Now lets get to the station before they finish off the gates. Santos, you still have your detonator?\"\n\n\"Yes sir, Cap. Just say the word.\"\n\n\"As soon as they breach the walls, gents, they'll get one heck of a surprise. Let's move.\" The six of you cautiously stand and start to pick your way through the remnants of your city. \n\n\"Hah, that will be a surprise,\" Felix murmured between steps. \"Boom... no more wall.\"\n\n\"No more rebel bastards!\" Jim scoffed.\n\n\"Let's hope. The wings won't be bringing air support for another 12 hours at least. We've only got one shot at this, so hush up and hump it.\" The six of you trek through the wreckage. \n\n\"Or...\" Miles offered, finally breaking his long silence. \"We can throw Jim over the wall and be home in time for breakfast.\"\n\nRusty squealed with laughter and promptly tripped over a fallen branch. ", "It’s called shellshock. It’s that point when after all the explosions, the fighting and the death you find yourself in that line between sanity and insanity. For me it was the point where I looked around and saw everyone dead; dismembered, crying, screaming and whimpering, all praying for someone to help. \n\nI stumble around and then feel a rude tug at my ankles, it is Arthur. He’s missing his legs. “Captain”, he croaks; he talks some more but I can’t pay attention, perhaps he gave me a message to his wife or to his mom, I really can't make it out. I do remember one thing; I’m supposed to be in charge of this cemetery that used to be my division.\n\nI scream with my loudest command voice; the one that they teach you to use in order to make people listen, “To the gate! We need to go back to the gate!” I take care not to mention retreat; the King’s holy army “never” retreats. I make way back to the gate hoping that anyone whose left has heard the order. I make haste as the sound of the enemy’s drums approaches; they're closing in for the kill.\nI reach the gate to the Goxhill keep; it’s a thick wooden gate with iron bars that wouldn't last long under siege. This entire village was deemed of “low strategic importance” by the generals, but even in these rural villages a small holding force is assigned to stop peasant revolts and keep men flowing into the army. Recently, the enemy has begun attacking these villages, aiming to terrify the populace into submission. From the looks of it, he’s succeeding.\n\nI go inside and push the gates shut, taking care to secure it with some iron bars. It’s the captain’s responsibility to ultimately man the gates and I sure as hell won't give up my life for some green troops. I look at the men who made it in time. Nine, only nine fucking sons of bitches, so green I could plant them in my orchard. Nine isn't enough to make a line. Nine, out of one hundred goddamn men, some captain I must be. The disappointment in my face is quickly picked up by the troops. I try to put on a brave face but I can’t. I have no more courage to give, I am doomed and so are they. The best we can manage is staving off the inevitable.\n\n“Start reinforcing this god damn gate, I want it shut tighter than my wife’s chastity belt”, I order, using the good ol’ command force. The men scurry like rats getting everything they can to block the reliably useless gate. “I want whoever is next in command to tell me what’s the status on reinforcements and the village people.”\n\nA sergeant limps towards me and starts speaking in a raspy voice quivering with fear, “We sent Arthur and Stevenson to alert command in Manchester 2 hours ago, they should be there by now.” I decide against telling him that Arthur is outside, missing his lower body, “The women and children are in the cathedral, maybe the enemy will allow them to claim sanctuary.” I decide against telling him that no one, not even the “holy” army, abides the laws of sanctuary.\n\nThe remaining men manage to put up a respectable barricade and then get into formation. Then silence, the sounds of the ever present drums ceases. They’re here. Thud … Thud … Thud … “Block the gates, we can’t let them breach.” I place all my weight against the gate hoping it will hold out against the battering rams. With each thud, I see the dust shaken off the ancient oak door. With each thud, I hear the metal hinges creak. With each thud, I feel the spirits of my men failing.\n\nWe hold on desperately, each man placing his full weight against the door and finally they see the beginning of the end. A seam zigzags through the wood, showing a crack that will only get wider. I was on the other side once, the one doing the ramming, anyone trying to hold that gate after the crack will be massacred. The thudding stops, the men look around. They all knew were had; did they give up? Did reinforcements arrive? I start crying, we were saved! A private suddenly yells, only understanding the implication of his words as he says them, “Get back, it’s a goddamn bomb!”\n\nI run. This is how they always fight; they discovered gunpowder and used it to make bombs. The men make a line and begin the count, *three … two … one... *\n\nAn explosion rocks the keeps foundations, turning our hasty barricade into shrapnel. Through the smoke, fire and brimstone emerges the first squad of enemy warriors. They just like us, men turned enemy on the donning of a symbol we don’t like. They charge and smash into us. Time stops in that sacred moment where steel clashes steel, flesh clashes flesh and will clashes will. We keep formation, repelling the first assailants but five of us are already down, leaving gaps so wide you can drive a cart through.\n\nThe second wave comes rushing in. This time we don't fare as well. We meet them but our line breaks almost instantly, all the remaining men are killed or wounded. I run, leaving my men to die but suddenly find a spear drive through my thigh. I scream in agony, trying to gain as much distance from the enemy as possible. They slow down, relishing my pain and fear, hungry wolves that finally corner their prey.\nI hear a stampede in the distance. It’s the cavalry, the made it, Stevenson made it! They rush the swords as they are about to finish me off. The enemy’s line starts to break; they didn't anticipate horsemen in this village. I watch as they are picked off one by one. A view of heaven from the bowels of hell.\n", "The young soldiers looked at me.\n“He’s a legend. Let him be.” \n\nWeak and pale, and old and frail, \nI do not resemble much. \n\nBut OH! I wear the armor!\nNavy blue, and polished true, \nI still wear the armor. \n“Old man, tell us your tale.”\n\nYoung and brave, and strong of arm,\nTwelve hundred stood before them.\n\nEndless hordes; an army vast.\nBarbarians at our gates. \n\nNavy blue and polished true, \nTwelve hundred stood before them. \n\nBow and arrow; axe and sword,\nmarched onward, the endless horde. \n\n“Do not flinch! Do not falter!”\nTwelve hundred stood before them.\n\nWith sunset, the gates came down. \nAll night, the battle raged. \n\nSteel and blood, till rising sun\nnavy blue, died one by one. \n\nNavy blue, and polished true,\ntwelve hundred, save one, were dead. \n\nBut thousands more, no colors wore,\nfor navy blue, the battle won. \n\nNavy blue, and polished true,\ntwelve hundred stood before them. ", "\"Set up firing positions here, here, and here. Have the AA posted on opposite sides of the plaza. And get those recon drones up, set the alarm for 'breach' in case they break through the North Gate.\"\n\n\"You mean 'when', don't you Kosal Leader? We should be makeing for a retreat and leave these humans to their fate. A whole division would be lost defending, what could a squad be expected to do? \"\n\n\"We have our honor and our agreement with these mammals, and we will defend this compound or risk their wrath. They have specifically stated that the central structure over there is not to be taken.\"\n\nHumans started filling the streets. They were armed with an insane variety of weapons. Everything from the antique style chemical propellant firearms to obsolete blaster to hand weapons of every shape and size. If reptiles could cry, the Kosal Leader and his men would have wept in pity.\n\nThe amphibious Rohlan were howling their intentions into the balmy night. Although neither Man nor Kas-Kosal studied the tounge, niether could doubt it intent or malicious tone.\n\nOne of the humans came up to the Kosal leader. \"We know that your weapons are not well suited for the enemy and you have limited munition. Aim to wound their legs, we'll hop on the injured ones and finish them off.\"\n\nThe Kosal leader laughed. \"The Rohlan are rarely beaten and do not take prisoners. If they do not slice you to shreds, they'll rip off your arms and bite off your heads.\" The breach alarm sounded. \"Then they will go for your eggs.\"\n\n\"No,\" the human responded with a stern conviction \" they will not have our 'eggs', you scaled lizard puke.\" He turned back to his people and announced that they were to follow 'Plan B.'\n\nThen the Rohlan swarmed through the streets. Cylinders and containers of all kinds filled the air as the Kosal warriors opened fire. Now aware of their foe , the Rolhan focused thier charge on the defenders. There were fires and explosions of varying power and effect at the impact points of the improvised incendiary and explosive devices. The Rohlan were advancing, but as soon as one staggered or fell hoards of screaming men and women fell upon them. Many of the ill prepared attackers died, but none left the field of battle.\n\n\"Are these furless rats explosive?\" One of the underlings asked the Kosal Leader. \"They are when they strap themselves with explosives.\" \"Falling stars, look at them go, even the old ones\". \"Shut your snouts and hold your posts!\" The battle raged, mere footfalls from the perimeter. The savagery was profound.\n\n\"Reinforcements landed , ETA 2 SEGMENTS!\" \n\nThe Kosal Leader heard one of the rarest sound a soldier could hear, a Rohlan scream in terror. They fell back, the brave mammals chasing after the enemy with chunks of Rohlan flesh hanging from their teeth.\n\nKosal leader looked back at the structure that they defended. He vowed to learn what \"Maternity Ward\" meant. \n\n\n\n" ]

[ 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 6 ]

[ "1401747334", "1401758738", "1401759570", "1401759586", "1401759618", "1401767049", "1401772601", "1401746734", "1401762971", "1401743503" ]

[ "Melancholy appeared suddenly, as if from thin air, next to the rain-streaked window. Her gray eyes sat still in their sockets, unable to summon the energy to focus. The light from the bathroom down the hall cast shadows over the dusty stacks of overdue bills that she had begrudgingly refused to pay. She had been sitting by the window for hours, but had camouflaged herself moments earlier when she heard the doorbell ring. \n\nMelancholy did not have the energy to face Schaudenfreude this afternoon, who must have been dangerously low because he rarely stooped so low as to visit her, and never on foot. He had dropped through an open window unexpectedly a few months ago to revel in her post-breakup sweatpants phase. At the time she hadn't minded, as her powers had started to wane in the midst of the healthy relationship and the presence of a joyful onlooker helped her to regenerate. \n\nThe sun was threatening to peak through the clouds, so Melancholy had reflexively begun to draw the blinds when her phone vibrated on a distant side table. It had been there, plugged into the charger for three days, while she milled about her cluttered apartment staring at old photographs and dredging up memories of her parents sudden divorce during her freshman year of college. The home screen listed three missed calls from Hope, an email recommending a self-help book from her mother, and a snapchat from Horny that she would certainly delete before viewing. \n\nThe most recent buzzing, however, was a text from Courage, the alliance's fearless leader: \"Mel, just a reminder that we need you tomorrow night, do what you have to do to be ready.\" She turned the phone off and looked up at the mirror, dimming her reflection until the entirety of the opposite wall was visible. The mirror suddenly shattered, bits of glass raining down and intermingling with dingy shag carpeting. Slowly a pair of bloodied knuckles appeared by the window, pulling up the blinds one at a time. Sunlight gleamed into the apartment, illuminating her emerging, slender figure. \n\nStaring down at the busy street below, Melancholy smiled. It was that smile that she would become known for, an almost maniacal grin. It was that smile that would flash through victims heads as she appeared out of nowhere before them and it was that smile that would fill the front page of the newspaper for days on end, accompanied by the simple headline: Unhinged Strikes Again. ", "\"Any service for an old superhero?\" the old man asks. \n\nThe quip is poorly received by the waitress, who continues to mind her bar with scarcely a glance in his direction. The bar is old and dark and smells of cheap varnish. The old man is dark as well, but smells like vomit and cigarettes. \n\n\"Courageous.\" he continues pointedly. \"That was my name. I rode with a group called the Seven Virtues. I saved hundreds--maybe thousands. Each courageous deed made me that much stronger.\"\n\nNothing. Not even a sullen look. There was a time when women--exotic women, with long hair and strange hues--would claw for him in teeming hordes. Time has reduced him to this.\n\n\"You read the tabloids. Is that it? Eh? Those filthy rags, peddling their smut, their lies--not a word of it true. Those boys were proud members of the Junior Virtues, and...we were getting to know each other is all. Bonding. Nothing they didn't want.\"\n\nIcy silence now, from the bar. There is no charming chatter, no jukebox music. Outside, a desolate wind blows through row after row of motionless cars. \n\n\"Fuck you.\" he mutters at last. \"Fuck you all.\"\n\nHe shuffles slowly to the bar and tosses a few crumpled bills on the counter. The waitress watches him with distant, mocking eyes.\n\nThere is a gun under the counter. He can see it outlined faintly underneath the cheap sandalwood. Sig Saeur, Israeli-made, chambered with explosive hollow-point rounds. Her motionless hand is only inches from the barrel. \n\nWith a single thrust, the wood splinters to sawdust between his fingers. The gun is in his hand, a slickly beautiful thing of dark iron. He holds the barrel square against his temple. \n\n\"Is this what you want?\" hisses the old man. \"Want to watch an old man die? Eh?\"\n\nThe Sig spits its deadly payload and is rebuffed. Tungsten rounds shatter into fragments against his unbreakable skin. \n\n\"You don't think I've **tried?**\"\n\nSilence. \n\n\"**Answer me!**\"\n\nThe waitress nods slightly--her first motion of the night. In a slow cascade, her chin droops forward and clears her shoulders entirely. Her body, held together by ropy sinew and dessicated skin, collapses in an unkempt heap.\n\nShe has been dead a thousand years. \n\nSobbing, the old man gathers his meagre possessions and exits through a crumbling stairwell into the night. As he walks, his feet never quite touching the ground, he passes untold corpses, dead of self-strangulation, poison, terminal jumps. He eyes them with twisted, unfulfilled longing. \n\nHe has learned to cherish this feeling. For the Superhero named Suicide, it will last him an eternity. " ]

[ 2, 2 ]

[ "1401751745", "1401757097" ]

[ "Step 1: Try the cage again..... still locked. \n\nStep 2: Fap\n\nStep 3: See if time for breakfast\n\nStep 4: Fap\n\nStep 5: Eat Breakfast\n\nStep 6: Trainer enters my cage.\n\nStep 7: Trainer spends 8 hours trying to get me to learn a new trick. I spend 8 hours trying to run away from the Trainer and Fap at the same time.\n \nStep 8: Trainer brings me to the Stage\n\nStep 9: Attempt to escape from the Stage\n\nStep 10: Get electrocuted. \n\nStep 11: Repeat steps 9 and 10 until Trainer gives up\n\nStep 12: Get put down for always trying to escape and Fap instead of learning to do The Trick. ", "We never see them coming. The Longfaces. Seems like every other food run we send out doesn't come back. The next group brings back the bodies, and we bury them. That is, if we already have enough food to eat. Now and then there will be arguments over who gets to go out on runs, over who gets the chance to die that day.\n\nOnly a handful of us have ever seen them. They watch us from the shadows. That's the only time their tails will sit still, when they're waiting. And when they're ready, they move. Silently, despite their bulky physique. Some of them have lost their gas masks, which gives them full use of their tusks. Not sure if they're tusks, though. They might be pincers, instead. I guess I'll find out today.\n\nI don't recognize New York anymore. The sky is filled with smoke and chemicals. All the crap they exhale gets stuck in the air, it seems. Grand Central Station got overrun last month. It was a trader outpost, well defended. No one's had the courage to scout it for survivors yet. Not that there would be any. The Longfaces have an exceptional sense of smell.\n\nWe built them that way. Deadly, intuitive, superior. Constructed a super predator to fight battles we never could. I don't think anyone knows how it started. Maybe one of them broke the psychological conditioning, and thought for itself. Taught the rest to do the same. Maybe. \n\nThe sky is getting dark, and the rest are all gone. I'm all that's left. I saw one of them pounce Nick, saw that thick purple tongue wrap itself around his neck and break it. I'm not sure what happened to the rest. I'm alone. Home couldn't be farther away, even though we only walked a block before they ambushed us.\n\nI hear it, now. The coughing and sputtering noises. Like a broken engine. It's alone. We're having a nice staring contest. I wish it wouldn't take its time. That tongue is disgusting. It's whipping about idly, and barely fits through the space where the filter on its gas mask once was.\n\nI can only hope I'", "“Would you like to go into the village later?”\n\nI clean my hands of the dirt, it’s an effort to looking up to meet my jailors eyes.\n\n“Sure.”\n\nShe nods and returns to her book. \n\nI return to my gardening.\n\nI worry about her – skin is too pale. I know with some of the kids these days the rage is sit in the sun or shade until your skin is the way you want it, but she spends all her time buried in books studying or writing her thesis on me. \n\nMy garden is fine, doesn’t need any more work, but two days ago my nurse (or Jailor, as I like to call her) had skin so pale it was almost translucent. It’s turning a nice golden brown now, quickly adapting to the equatorial sun – a couple more days and she’ll be black like the night.\n\nA retiree has to have his hobbies.\n\nMost of the time I just relax and let my life be ruled by my jailor. I wake up, exercise my body and mind, do my hobbies, eating what they tell me to (most of the time), go for a walk in the village and let the kids marvel at \"the last man on earth\". Weekly tests and scans – our goal is to get me to 140.\n\n*Ah the once proud human, regulated to a Ginny Pig by the \"monster\" he created.*\n\nI take a moment to be a lecherous old man and admire her figure. Long limbs, shapely yet toned body, that long and gorgeous face – a beautiful creature if there ever was, one could almost swear she was grown in a lab.\n\nOf course she wasn’t a lab grown. Her grandmother was – one the first actually, \"Homo Machinatum\", the Engineered man. The old bird is another inmate here at the nursing home, Alzheimer's. \n\nMe? I’m a bonafide Homo Saipan, one of the last natural born babies before the plague destroyed our ability to reproduce., currently holding the dubious honour of being the last. Grew up through the Dark Decade before we got crazy with bio engineering – I have a clone somewhere in Europe working on the Space Program, just as sterile as I am nearing his eighties.\n\nHe writes.\n\nI was well into my forties when the first of the now dominant strain of Homo Machinatum where “born”. There are a couple of other strains, but ones like my Nurse where the first able to reproduce naturally along with all the other goodies. The adaptive skin pigment is the most obvious difference, the rest is under the skin – more robust immune systems, more durable bones, cancer resistance, more efficient oxygen processing - list is pretty long, but they’re still human where it counts.\n\n*My god that is a nice ass.*", "I straighten up my room at Sandy Oak retirement center. My youngest daughter is coming to visit today and take me out to lunch. A bell chimes in my ear \"Earl, your daughter is here.\" I walk out to reception to meet her.\n\nMy daughter Emily gives me a big hug. She reminds me of my wife, even though genetically she have only 7% human DNA. Emily is perfect in every way, smart, fast, strong, kind, funny and never got sick a day in her life. She is the CEO of a low orbit vacation resort now, getting down here must be a lot of trouble for her. I am grateful she took the time.\n\nI haven't always been a good father to her. I treated her differently from her genetically human older brother and sister. Colder and less affectionate. She doesn't seem to hold any grudge, and still loves me and her siblings. She even found jobs for them at her company. It's harder and harder for natural humans to find work, we are just not as good at anything as the modifieds are. \n\nThe world operates now with perfect harmony and efficiency since the modifieds are old enough to take control. They created some roles in the new world order where non-modified humans can still contribute. But those jobs feel like pity work. Some non-mods rebelled, they have been rounded up and treated. Our time will be over soon, with lifespans of only a 100 years, we will all be gone in 50 years.", "why? why must we be treated like such...animals? well, i guess we deserve it, after centuries of doing the same to other living things.\nevery day it's the same thing. just tests and experiments, poking and prodding. we're like their entertainment, their lab rats. actually, that's exactly what we are to them.\nand the weird thing is, we created the ones who rule over us. all those years ago, we created them in labs, obnoxiously hoping that we could control their power to \"better humanity\". now they are stronger, smarter, and they have control over us. we used to look into the cages of animals at the zoo, wondering how any living thing could ever stand those conditions. and now we sure as hell know what it's like.\n\nand i...i think we deserve it.", "Who would have thought of Pinky and the Brain as anything other than fictional cartoon characters? Yet here we are, driven to the edge of extinction by our own creation. Part of the problem is that we made far more Brains than Pinkies, which was our intention in the first place. \n\nWhat could go wrong with genetically enhanced brains in mice? \n\nNow we are the ones living in the sewers, unless we fall into one of the human traps and end up being probed in a lab. \n\nWe walk in the dark. We can only take a bath when it pours outside and the mice hide in our former homes, watching TV shows made for mice, and by mice.\n\nAt one point a scientist suggested engineering cats in the same fashion, to have an ally in the fight against the mice, but we soon realized the cat overlords would be far worst than even our former selves.\n\nMost cats are gone by now, even their pictures on the Internet are no longer there. Mice keep beetles as pets, much like we did with dogs and cats. There are websites with beetles wearing hats, or Halloween costumes, or… It is just insane.\n\nBreakfast is canned food, and so is lunch, and so is dinner. Agriculture collapsed as soon as there were no longer any men to plow the fields. The mice want fruits and cheese, and grow both in what used to be university and government labs. \n\nThe time between meals crawls as we sit in the dark, wanting to read, or to talk, or to sing. The sewers are wired at every corner. Even the slightest noise will trigger the alarm system, and if that happens… We don’t want that to happen, so we stay quiet.\n\nWe tattoo our bodies with images of dead mice, trampled under human feet, or boiling by the dozen in a cooking pot, or with their head bitten off by a hungry naked woman. We fantasize about our old world, but we know the end is near. There are only a few places left without human traps, and I would be surprised if there is more than a few hundred of us left.\n\nIt has been years since we slept at night. \n\nAs it turns out, now that mice are in control, they visit shopping malls, and museums, and sporting events during the day, leaving the night for humans to crawl out of the sewers. We hunt for canned food in the dark, at empty grocery stores that are becoming harder to find with every passing night.\n\nWe are starved and sleep deprived, but we keep hope alive with our tattoos and our stories of humans trapped in the labs. We fantasize about two men moving through mazes and spending hours in running wheels during the day, who at night ask each other a simple question:\n\n“What do you want to do tonight?”\n\n“The same thing we do every night. Try to take over the world!”\n", "This will be my last journal entry. I know this because the creatures that rule us . . . the ones I created . . . are finally done exterminating human life. \n\nI knew they wanted me to watch as my family, friends, and everyone else were made into slaves to fulfill their ungodly deeds. Every day they would make the men build huge monuments depicting the creatures in horrifying ways. One that stood out from the rest was the one that was dedicated to my daughter. \n\nOne of the creatures (later to be called The Malo, which is Latin for The Evil) was standing above my daughter with a look of triumph on its face as he held her mangled head up to inspect. Her body lay crumpled on the ground, bones in places no human could bend to, her thoracic cavity torn open showing what was left of her internal organs. The day I saw this, I almost killed myself. Not from the sight but from what was inscribed underneath it . . . fuit ultimum. Tu es enim post medicum. She Was Last. You Are Next Doctor. \n\nThis was two days ago. Yesterday I could hear the screams from above my lab as the Malo killed everyone. Young children crying as they were ripped apart, brave men trying to stand up to them only to be rendered a topless pair of legs, women begging them to have mercy only to have her head torn from her neck. The worst was all of the screams were in anger. Anger toward me. \n\nI did not sleep last night. As I sit here typing, I hear the Malo coming down the hallway. I will not kill myself. I will stand toward my abominations and accept fate. \n\nI love you Amber, my sweet and innocent daughter.", "Gah, it's dark in here. The act of typing this is enough to keep sane, for now at least. The Caretakers stripped this pod months ago, a result of our destructive behavior. They routed the power out of our cells, excluding the Level 0 life support streams. I managed to splice this console into the back-up grid...but I don't know how long it will be until they catch on. The gawking GearHeads and shifty SoundBankers scroll past our pod hour by hour, day by day. Their clumsy offspring beat tentacles against the glass, trying to get a reaction out of us. Most of us sleep, ignoring the world as is closes in around us. Some just sit and masturbate all day long. The women have long since given up attempting to breed with men, we've all been sterilized from sitting among these dense security grids since birth. The Caretakers try to encourage mating but they just don't understand how it works. We don't split or molt or whatever it is they are used to seeing. Some Caretakers genuinely seem concerned that we can't breed, others are just slogging through this job like so many cogs in a clockwork. They are unaware we have feelings or hopes or dreams. They only keep us here out of some misplaced sense of gratitude, they think because we showed them the way here with our radio signals and probe launches that we deserve to preserved for future generations. This likely won't be seen by human eyes, not that it matters anyway, I haven't met a person that can read or write for at least 100 Solar Cycles, maybe longer.\n\nEdit: typo", "8:03 A.M. (After Merging)\n\nIt's a bit chilly in here today. Sheila says the warm weather is going to come soon, but she says that every day. Me and the others just ignore her.\n\n10:37 A.M.\n\nThe doors for the Uppers have opened. We all primp and preen, trying to make ourselves more attractive to the eye than the others. Being picked by an Upper is being picked for an easy life, or so we have been told. Sheila is picked up by an Upper in a lab coat. She's shaking. He's grinning. The Lab Uppers always grin like that. \n\n13:37 A.M. \n\nI got picked, I got picked! I wave goodbye to my sisters. Sheila said that we used to have brothers, male humans, but that's silly. Sheila is silly. My Uppers pay for me and gently guide me into their car. \n\n\"I dunno hun, I think they should have had *some* autonomy left.\" One of the Uppers says. I'm not sure what he means. Sheila was the only one of us who could understand big words like that. \n\n\"Like they would have given our ancestors that luxury.\" The other said, snorting. \"No, they're much better like this. And happier. They're improving with each generation.\"\n\nShe glances back at me, and I sit up straight, adjusting my tunic. They're taking me to a nice life, so I gotta look nice for them. \n\n17:40 A.M.\n\nThey have big grounds, and I am free to walk around as I want. They even gave me a bed on the back porch! It's a little cold, but I've got a long...what was the word the Uppers called it? Comforter? It's warm. \n\nI wonder how Sheila is doing." ]

[ 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 9 ]

[ "1401807890", "1401801974", "1401805105", "1401809658", "1401810049", "1401801926", "1401803270", "1401801152", "1401800591" ]

[ "There was no shortage of bloodshed for sure, but for all the hype that had preceded it, the events of the Lawless Hours underwhelmed even the most conservative estimates.\n\nThere was one effect however, that most failed to predict. For every year that the Lawless Hours persisted, not a single politician challenging the second amendment was elected. ", "Welp, the first phase is finally complete. All around the world my operatives have infiltrated every major government office. As I stand in the oval office, I smile at the president. The woman I had worked for for the past six years did not smile back.\n\nI bring the phone to my ears and mouth. Thank goodness Oovoo's servers are still running. \"Everyone ready to purge this place?\"\n\nEnthusiastic woohoos! and yeahs! crackle over the chat and I have my operative in the UK start the count down. \n\n\"10\"\n\nThe president reaches for a small pistol in her shoe. I shoot her foot.\n\n\"9\"\n\nI hear guards coming to my operative in Russia. They'll be too late\n\n\"8\"\n\nMy North Korean operative guzzles down another beer. Over his shoulder I see the \"glorious leader\" standing approvingly. The idiot thinks that his warheads are only targeting America.\n\n\"7\"\n\nI flip open the glass case covering the big red button.\n\n\"6\"\n\nThe secret service, for some reason still active, is breaking down the door but they will be too late.\n\n\"5\"\n\nI'm bored.\n\n\"4\"\n\nI pop a cyanide capsule in my mouth to crush in case this doesn't go as planned.\n\n\"3.. 2...\"\n\n\"Goodbye, Madame President.\"\n\n\"1\"\n\nWe all press our various buttons and switches at the same time. All across the Earth every nuclear weapon is launched and within minutes, the Earth will start life over.\n\nGoodbye.", "They dubbed it a “judicial recess”-- two hours of broad daylight, 3pm to 5pm Eastern Standard Time, June 4th, during which no act on American soil could be deemed criminal. Ostensibly it was meant to be a period of transition between the old laws and the new, the official abolishment of the Constitution and the ratification of Executor Gilroy’s newly-completed North American Citizens’ Participation Agreement. But really it was about ratings. The ever popular *Gang Wars* series raked in record numbers in advertising revenue as Chicago, Mexico City, Detroit, Los Angeles, Juarez, New York City, and other hot spots exploded in a rash of gang violence and counter-violence, all captured by Gilroy’s Radiant Entertainment drones hovering high above and broadcast into the homes of millions.\n\nFor the most part, the judicial recess didn’t affect the everyday citizen. Most people put their homes on lockdown and settled in to wait it out like a bad storm. Many bought enough supplies to live in shelter for weeks, just in case, and this only bolstered sales figures during the Executor’s administration, already popular among corporate interests. Banks and cash repositories hired legions of independent security officers to ward off theft, as did any place that housed valuables and had enough financial power to swing it. There was some minor looting in the old malls and failing big box stores, as well as occasional petty neighbor-on-neighbor violence, but for those citizens who were regularly law-abiding, nothing much changed. Perhaps they grew even more nervous and distrustful of the society around them.\n\n*All for the best, of course*, Gilroy had recently written in an email to Games Secretary Jonathan Bradshaw. *A society which touts individualism over cooperation and common good is a force slow to action and easily confused.*\n\nMuch traded hands over the Internet during the two-hour recess. Corporations rearranged their holdings tax-free and dozens of message boards were overrun with pedo trolls posting anything and everything they could find. Malware spread like a virulent contagion, generating billions for software companies and computer manufacturers. All in all, from an economic standpoint, the recess was a brilliant idea: gun sales skyrocketed, along with emergency provisions and food; the national appetite for *Gang Wars* and news sound bites was at an all-time high; and the populace was generally too panicked and divided to form any kind of consensus opinion on the state of things. \n\nOf course they were unprepared for the harsh reality of life as citizens of Radiant Entertainment’s North America, but then this too was all according to plan.", "Chaos and turmoil littered the streets. Blood was spilled and then collected soon after by the janitor who had just tried to murder a man. Bullets holes decorated the walls of buildings like abstract art and weapons of all shape and size were bought year round like Christmas gifts. But of all the evil deeds that were committed during those two hours none was more greusome than when young Billy Paxton threw his trash upon the street and illegally littered.", "[the purge](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0LLaybEuzA)" ]

[ 2, 2, 2, 2, 3 ]

[ "1401913185", "1401914626", "1401914988", "1401917632", "1401910111" ]

[ " \nThe coffee house was tense with silence, tobacco smoke hung still in the air, not one hair on one wig moved as the crowd waited for the battle to begin. At one end of the table and miserable looking, cleric sneered as he thumbed through his notes, the disdain for the establishment clear on his pudgy face. At the other end his opponent, a small hunchbacked man sat scribbling into a note book, snapping nastily at anyone who came close to him. These were two of the greatest artists of their generation and they were about to have at it in Mrs Miggins Coffee and Pie Shop. \nThe Master of Battles raised his hands “Order Order! First we will from the Chief Yahoo himself, DR JOHNATHAN SWIFT!” \nMr Swift stood, cleared his throat and began\n\n“Calling you The Dunciad is no misnomer\n\nTo anyone who's read your translation of Homer \n\nIt's full errors stemming from lack of good Greek \n\nIt's like your health – Unimaginably weak!\n\nYour poetry is a poor as your back \n\nI'll write an Essay of Criticism all over this hack \n\nGo stand on your books, they'll give you a lift\n\nYou just got schooled by Jonathan Swift!!” \n\n\nThe crowd whooped and slammed their mugs on the table in appreciation chanting “Yahoo, Yahoo!” much to Mr Swifts apparent annoyance. The Master of Battles raised his arms again. “And now, The Biggest Shortman in all of London, ALEXANDER POPE” \nPope jumped to his feet, his chest barely above the table. Snapping his fingers and bobbing his head he started.\n\n“Heroic couples is that the best you can do? \n\nYou misanthropic, barely literate paddy\n\nI'll slap you back to your provincial daddy \n\nAnd arch rhyme while I obliterate you. \n\nI'll leave you with your little mind in fits\n\nI'm the spirit of literature, you literary Pope\n\nYou're washed out cleric with no human hope\n\nWho just spits rhymes that Celia Shits!” \n\n\nThe coffee house erupted books, mugs and canes flying everywhere as the gentlemen went at each other with savage abandon...\n\n\n\n\n", "Raindrops patter against the façade of Wendelton Manor. Inside, an anxious and dapper group of guests has packed itself around the parlor. Plates of hors d’oeuvres quickly pass from hand to hand and nervous chatter abounds. In time, Jennings enters. Standing straight and tall, he announces in his booming voice, “Ahem. May I present Mr. Sinclair”. The crowd collectively sucks in their breath as a rotund gentleman in a top-hat and tails smoothly enters the room. Mr. Gilroy emerges from the kitchen, himself dressed in a fine tuxedo and leaning on a mahogany cane.\n\n“Ah, Mr. Sinclair. My heart lifts to know that you are able to grace us with your presence.”\n\n“Not at all, Mr. Gilroy. It is my pleasure and my duty.”\n\nMr. Gilroy turns to address the crowd, which hangs on every word in the exchange.\n\n“My friends, as you undoubtedly know since you are all gathered here, Mr. Sinclair and I have some business to settle this evening. You may have heard rumors about town involving myself and Mr. Sinclair. Some nasty business regarding unpaid debts, I believe?”\n\n“Unpaid debts? You slept with my wife!”\n\n“Surely the details are immaterial at this stage. The point, ladies and gentlemen, is that we have agreed to settle our differences in the traditional manner.”\n\nThe crowd cheers, and one woman in the tightest of corsets requires resuscitation after fainting.\n\n“As I believe this soiree is just taking wing, let us keep this brief. One verse each; four lines. The crowd shall decide the winner. The loser is to concede $100.00 and accept full responsibility for causing this so-called feud. Agreed, Sinclair?”\n\n“Agreed.”\n\n“Excellent. Then as my guest, you are entitled to lead. And lead you shall!” Mr. Gilroy flourishes and raucous cheering and clapping follow. The crowd clears a space in the center of the room for Mr. Sinclair to take the traditional stance. Mr. Sinclair puts his left leg forward and pulls his right leg far back behind him into a lunging position. He keeps both arms glued to his sides. He waits the customary thirty seconds as the crowd reduces to silence. He begins:\n\n Gilroy, you have slighted me ungraciously.\n Your acts have made my eyes tear and my ears ring.\n I cannot fathom how else I can make you see,\n That my lovely young wife is not a plaything!\n\nMr. Sinclair morphs his stance into a deep bow directed toward Mr. Gilory. The revelers are beside themselves – this is the finest and most skillful wordplay most have ever beheld. Tightly wound women are fainting left and right. Sweat beads form on Gilroy’s forehead. His eyes dart around the room, seemingly looking for an exit. His sight catches Jennings’, and his pulse immediately lowers.\n\n“Wonderful, Sinclair. Truly first-class work. Now I must take my position in the center.”\n\nMr. Gilroy takes Mr. Sinclair’s spot and sets himself into the delivery stance.\n\n“Oh, and Jennings? Wheel in Luanne and Symphony No. 30.”\n\nMoans of confusion break out as Jennings retreats into a side closet. He promptly emerges with a gramophone and a record. Patrons, and especially Mr. Sinclair, are nonplussed and irate. All gazes are fixed on Jennings and his contraption as he parks it next to Mr. Gilroy in the center of the room.\n\n“Ladies and gentlemen, I shall begin.”\n\nMr. Gilroy places the record on the gramophone, lets it play for a few seconds, then pulls it backwards with his hand resulting in a loud scratching noise. Party-goers are quick to cover their ears, and some of the weaker women begin to scream. Mr. Sinclair is transfixed. Mr. Gilroy continues to pull the record backward and forward as he speaks:\n\n My name is Gilroy and I’m here to say,\n I have done nothing wrong today.\n I’d rather go out and eat some hay.\n Sometimes I also like to play!\n\nMr. Gilroy finishes his thoughts and scratches his record a few more times before contorting into a deep bow. The crowd is stunned for a moment, then begins to boo lustily. Those closer to Mr. Gilroy begin to jostle him. Jennings cowers in a corner. Just as the crowd turns toward violence, Mr. Sinclair takes the center and demands attention.\n\n“Everyone. Everyone! This contest is over. Congratulations, Gilroy.”\n\nMr. Sinclair produces a $100 bill and crams it into the still-bowing Mr. Gilroy’s hand. He abruptly turns and leaves the parlor and the manor, never to be seen again.\n\n***\nGrandmaster Flash finishes reading the passage, gets up, and throws his book in the trash. “Bullshit”, he mutters." ]

[ 6, 17 ]

[ "1401981573", "1401975145" ]

[ "That year was dry, I remember. I couldn’t keep my garden or even the bermuda grass alive in my backyard that summer, not that I was ever any good at gardening anyway. Not really a yard as much as a sandbox by early June. It was a morning in late June after a hard rain when I first noticed it. \n \nIt was nice to hear rain and thunder the night before. I slept well that night for once. Haven’t slept well since. Refreshed by the rain and sleep, that morning I decided to have my coffee outside. \n\nI sat there under the morning sun, feeling the summer heat choke what little respite the rain brought to the day. As the sweat began to bead on my forearm, I abandoned my coffee idea and decided to sit in the a/c instead.\n\nDefeated by the heat yet again, I stood up to go inside. As I turned to go, I caught a glint of silver reflecting in the corner of my vision. I turned back to get a better look but saw nothing. What I did notice was a mound near the back of the yard. \n\nI’d never noticed it before, I guessed the rain had beat down enough of the dirt to make the high spot visible. I walked towards it, and I thought that sight looked familiar. \n\nWhen I was young I went to a funeral for a buddy of mine who died in a car wreck. The family had no money but the community put up some cash to help bury the poor kid. It wasn’t exactly a bang-up job and when the gravedigger filled the dirt in over his coffin it sort of rose above the ground creating a hump. Now I never did figure out whether that was done on purpose or not- never bothered to ask- but the mound in my back yard sure did look how I remember that hump at the funeral looked.\n\nI was trying to remember my old dead friend’s name when I saw the silver glint poking through the dirt. Worn out dog tags. I bent over to read the name – “Bennett, John F.”\n\nI reeled away from the dirt spot and grabbed around my neck. I felt the familiar jangle of my identification tag held securely around my neck. I leaned back in for another look and there it was, inscribed on the worn tag: “Bennett, John F.” \n \nI ripped off my tag and fell to my knees over the tag in the dirt. The tag I kept around my neck : “Bennett, John F.” Tag in the dirt: “Bennett, John F.” No- can’t be. So I compared them again: “Bennett, John F. Bennett, John F.” Impossible, but the tags never changed. “Bennett, John F. Bennett, John F.\n\nHot and confused, I stumbled back to my coffee and chugged. I didn’t know then what I know now, so I decided to get my shovel and find out if anything was buried beneath my tags.\n \nA few hours of blistering work later uncovering the hole – not exactly a bang-up job - and I saw it. A dead body with my hair, my face, my yellow teeth, my scars. My shirt, my pants, my shorts, my shoes. But it couldn’t be me could it? No- I was standing right there beneath the sun breathing the humid air, feeling my blistered hands.\n \nI couldn’t turn away from my corpse down in the dirt. What else could I do? I was breathing, yet I was decaying into nothing. I stood there beneath the sun. Then beneath the moon and again the sun. I stood, I breathed, and I watched myself rot in the dry pit.\n \nAfter days I couldn’t count – forensics best guess was three – the neighbors caught wind of my stinking corpse and called the authorities. They found me in the backyard standing over my own dead body.\n\nThe prosecutor says I killed some college freshman in his late teens. Say I buried the body a week before I dug it back up, not exactly a bang-up job. No dog tags, no clothes or teeth for that matter. Just some kid whose parents missed him.\n \nBut the prosecution is wrong of course. I know what I saw in that dirt hole. I know what I see every time I close my eyes. It was me all along down there.\n", "Hot sun, sweat on my back, blisters on my palms. Middle of summer and here I am digging a hole. This all would have been fine if he didn’t find out, but he had to take a second look. They always take a second look, they always question if a mirror is there, or if they finally found their doppelganger, and they drop everything to chase us down. Only it never ends well. \n\n“Honey?” I heard his wife — my wife — call from the house. \n“Yes, dear?” I stab the shovel into the ground and wipe my face off before looking back at her, neck deep in my hole. \nShe furrows her brow, likely trying to figure out what seems off about me, people tend to do a good job at pointing out Replacements, but rarely act on it. They assume it’s nothing and move on. “What are you doing? \n“Diggin’ a hole to hell so I can feed the demons of my past. You?” \n“Oh, as long as it’s nothing bad. I was just checking. Do you want some water or lunch?” She seems to visibly relax, thinking that only her husband could come up with such a saying on the fly. \nI grab the shovel and make a show of flexing, “Please, I’m a man! I don’t need food or water!” \nI hear her giggle as I turn around and get back to work. \n\nAfter my hole is done, I climb out and go to his — my — car and pop the trunk. I grab the bag of mulch and a bag of flower seeds and lug them back to the hole. Coming back to the car, I take out the stuffed duffle bag and sling it over my shoulder before closing the trunk. The bag is heavy and kind of awkwardly bulky, but I manage to get it back to the yard. I glance through the open windows of the house and see my wife cleaning dishes, with her back to the yard.\n\nI set the bag down and open it a bit so I can peek inside and look upon a face that mirrors my own, from the tanned skin to the birth mark on the left eyebrow. I whisper to my cold counterpart, “All you had to do was look away.” before I zip up the bag and roll it into the hole. It hits the bottom with a thud and I reach down and take the shovel out. “Welp, too late now. I should really be thanking you, if you didn’t I wouldn’t have much of a reason to exist, now would I?” I say quietly as I fill the hole back up.\n\n“What is this?” My wife says, not quite understanding the fruit of my labor. \nI mock shock, “It’s a flower bed! You’re always saying you wanted to learn to garden.” \n“Oh, oh!” She seems to finally catch on. “That’s great! Alright, I’ll get started right away!” \nHanding her the flower seeds I say, “Good, now I’ll go take a nap.” \n“I’ll wake you for dinner.” She’s already digging into the dirt. ", "**I haven't written anything in a long time, this might not be very good**\n\nPoor Boots. Poor old guy never saw that car coming. Even now, the fact that people don't stop when a cat is in the middle of the road makes me see red. I loved that cat and now I am digging a hole in the corner of the backyard with my dear old friend in a box. There was no pomp, no reverence. To a car passing by, I looked like I was simply doing a bit of gardening. With tears streaming down my face, I continued to dig. I let my mind wander to the good times I had growing up with him. About a foot into the soft dirt, my tiny shovel hit something hard. What the hell... \n\tThe object was not only hard, but also....squishy. The obstruction brought my mind back to reality and I started paying attention to what I was doing. I took off my sunglasses and put on my 'seein specs', as my dad called them. Once my eyes adjusted to the sunlight, I actually saw what my shovel hit. It was a nose. A human nose. I wiped the sweat off my forehead and tried to refocus my eyes. This couldn't be what I was looking at. I slowly reached down into the hole, as if the nose was going to bite me. Wiping off the dirt from around the nose, I saw a pink nose ring.... a chubby cheek.... purple hair... and bulging green eyes.\n\tIt was me. I was looking down at myself. My mind raced. What was happening? Was this a dream? If this was a dream, does that mean that Boots didn't actually get hit? \n\tI mean... I remember seeing him in the middle of the road and hearing the car screeching as it turned the corner too fast. It was going way too fast for a residential area. It was swirving back and forth like the driver had been drinking all day. I remember running out into the road to save him. What happened next. The last thing I remember was pushing Boots out of the way, and then I was digging the hole. Did I save Boots? \n\t\"Is this the woman that's been missing for the last two weeks?\"\n\t\"We can't be certain until we get a DNA test, but the identifying characteristics are all there. I mean, how many potentially dead women have purple hair and a pink nose ring?\"\n\tMissing? Dead? I turned around and saw two police officers standing over me. They didn't seem to see me, right there in front of them, trying to bury my poor murdered cat in peace. The backyard filled with strangers filling out notepads and officers putting up CRIME SCENE tape. On the back porch, watching the whole scene play out was a black and white cat, with a sad and lonely look on his face.\n\tMaybe Boots wasn't the one who got hit by that drunk driver....\n", "Paul drove the shovel into the dirt again, tossing the earth over his shoulder into the hot day. \n\n*So stupid*, he thought. *How could I have done something so stupid?*\n\nHe shook his head in frustration, grumbling. Suddenly the shovel impacted the ground with a merciful *thump*.\n\n*Finally.*\n\nHe used the shovel blade to remove the excess dirt around the object, then got on his knees, clearing the rest with his hands to reveal a face. *His* face.\n\nIt was a shocking enough image to make him pause. His own face, pale and cold and very recently dead staring up at him with empty eyes. A jagged crimson line ran across the neck. It was clean yet visceral job, done by a hand equally practiced and unhinged. The blade of the weapon had teeth, the skin around the wound torn and frayed. Yet the line was straight and mechanical, a powerful machine used delicately, carefully drawn across the neck so as to not decapitate entirely. It was most likely more painful than it looked.\n\nPaul looked at the head, running a gloved hand lightly across the wound, staring into the glassy eyes of the victim. His hand slowly reached behind the head, digging into the ground, probing. Around the head, down the neck, between the torso and the arms, under his legs-\n\n*Aha.* Paul couldn't help but smile. He withdrew his hand, and, stepping out of the hole, opened his fingers in the fading sunlight.\n\nHis keys. They jangled as he shook the dirt free and stuffed them in his pocket. He looked down at his own lifeless face looking up at him jealously from the grave. \n\n\"Thanks for grabbing these, bro! I thought I lost 'em!\" he laughed. He had almost panicked, too. \n\nHe picked up the shovel and tossed it in the corner by the shed, where it clattered between an old rake and a used , dirty chainsaw. \n\nPaul shielded his eyes from the setting sun. Night was approaching, and there was much work to do. He looked out at the two dozen dug up holes alongside his brother's. \n\nAs he stepped over the rotting corpses, he called out, \"Relax, Mom, I'll cover you and all you guys up again when I get back! But first, I'm gonna get you some more company!\" \n\nWhen there was no response, he yelled, \"And don't worry Dad, I'll remember to put your tools away when I'm done with them!\"\n\nWhistling, he grabbed the chainsaw, and skipped gleefully to his truck. ", "It was actually a beautiful day, if you could get over the heat. I took a break from digging to look out across my backyard.\n\n\"Sun sets around eight thirty tonight,\" I checked my watch, \"If we hurry, we can get the rest of these dug out before we call it a day.\"\n\nRick stopped digging, planted his shovel in the ground, and wiped his forehead. The loose dirt on his hands smeared across his face.\n\n\"Jesus, man,\" he panted, \"How did you rope me into this today? It's gotta be a hundred degrees.\"\n\n“Aw, you pussy,” I chided, getting back to work “The day’s almost over! This is the coolest it’s gonna be.”\n\n“Plus, have you forgotten your reimbursement?\" I chuckled, nodding my head toward the cooler, \"And there will, of course, be pizza tonight.\"\n\n\"Pizza and beer,\" Rick grumbled good-naturedly, picking his own shovel back up, \"Gonna die out here for pizza and beer.”\n\n“People have died for less than that, my friend.”\n\n“You’re right,” he corrected, “I’m going to die out here before I even *get* my pizza and beer. I am risking my life on nothing but the *promise* of pizza and beer.”\n\n“What?” I feigned offense, “You don’t think I’ll keep up my end of the deal?”\n\n“It’s not a matter of how good your word is, it’s-“\n\nI heard him stop digging.\n\nI glanced towards him. \n\n\"Too much for you? We can quit if-\"\n\n\"Holy shit,\" a whisper, \"I...I think there's something buried here.\"\n\nPuzzled by his reaction, I stepped out of my hole and walked over to his.\n\nIt was a shoe. Rick had exposed the top of it. Gray and white, like mine. There was a tear in the side.\n\nOut through the rip stuck a toe.\n\n***\n\n\"Where's Rick?\"\n\nI meant to sound intimidating, but it was my first time in an interrogation room.\n\n\"He's fine,” it was clearly not the detective's first time, “You understand, we have to question each of you individually. It's protocol to get both of your statements, since you discovered the body.\"\n\nHis answer almost made it seem like this whole thing was just a formality. \n\nThe handcuffs were less reassuring. \n\n\"Look, Detective…”\n\nI paused, looking at him expectantly. \n\n“Rhodes.”\n\nI’ve found that people respond well to the sound of their own name.\n\n“Look, Detective Rhodes,\" he smiled faintly, \"We were just planting some bushes in my backyard. I have no idea how-\"\n\nRhodes held up his hand.\n\n\"Sir, this will be much easier if you just answer my questions.” \n\nI nodded my head earnestly, decided to give up on trying to be intimidating. Not really my strong suit.\n\nRhodes pulled out his notebook.\n\n“Where are you from?\"\n\n\"Richmond, Virginia.\"\n\nHe didn’t write my answer down.\n\n\"Date of birth?\"\n\n\"March fifth, 1987.\"\n\nAgain, he didn’t write anything. That information would be on my driver's license, I guess, but then why ask the question at all?\n\n\"Do you have any siblings?\"\n\nI paused. That seemed like a strange leap.\n\n\"No, I'm an only child.\"\n\nA frown. He scribbled something this time.\n\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\nThat caught me off guard.\n\n\"Am I-? Yeah, I'm..I'm sure. What does this have to do with-\"\n\n\"No brothers?\"\n\nI cocked my head in confusion, squinting.\n\n\"No, I don't have any- Why are you asking?\"\n\nDetective Rhodes pursed his lips. Flipped back to some earlier page in his notebook.\n\n\"I'll be right back,\" he stepped out of the room.\n\nI took the opportunity to calm myself down.\n\n\"Okay,\" I whispered to myself, \"This is normal. This is exactly what they do for anyone that finds a dead body.\"\n\nI leaned down wipe my forehead. My handcuffs clanged.\n\nI didn't believe myself.\n\nThe door swung open, but instead of Rhodes an older man walked in. Dark suit. Briefcase. \n\n“What happened to Detective Rhodes?”\n\n“It looks like he may not have jurisdiction here.”\n\n“Uh-huh. So are you a detective as well, then?”\n\nI didn’t really understand law enforcement.\n\n“No.”\n\n“So who are you?”\n\n“We’ll get to that.”\n\nHe put his briefcase down and reached inside.\n\n“Do you have a twin brother?”\n\nI was starting to get frustrated.\n\n“Like I told Detective Rhodes-“\n\nHe slid a photo onto the table in front of me. \n\n“Do you have a twin brother?”\n\nI stared. It was a crime scene photo. The body pictured was discolored. Ragged chunks of flesh were missing from its arms. Its face had clearly been beaten, though not beyond recognition.\n\n“Please answer the question.”\n\nMy mouth was suddenly too dry to answer. I shook my head without taking my eyes off the picture.\n\n“Do you recognize the person in that photo?”\n\nI snapped my head to look at him, shock being quickly replaced by suspicion. I gaped for a second.\n\n“Is this a joke?”\n\n“Do you recognize the person-“\n\n“Of course I fucking do!” I exploded, confused by my own rage, “It looks like me!”\n\nExactly like me. My face. My hair. It even had my clothes.\n\n“What, did you Photoshop a goddamn crime scene photo?” \n\nHe seemed unfazed by my outrage.\n\n“The DNA test was a ninety nine point nine percent match.”\n\nHe said it accusingly, as if somehow that was my fault. Strangely, realizing that I was once again on the hot seat calmed me down a little.\n\n“I don’t… I’m not sure what you want me to say,” inside my jumbled thoughts, something clicked, “Wait, when did I give a blood sample?”\n\nHe seemed ready to respond, then glanced at my handcuffs. Hesitated. Pulled a plastic baggie from his briefcase.\n\n“Before we get into all that,” his voice had softened somewhat, “This was found on the body.”\n\nHe handed me the evidence bag. There was a watch inside. \n\n“My…”\n\nI flipped the bag over. This watch had my initials inscribed on the back. An exact duplicate of the one currently on my wrist. \n\nI turned it back around.\n\nNo. Not an *exact* duplicate.\n\nMine read today’s date, June sixth. The one in the bag read June twenty-fourth. " ]

[ 1, 2, 2, 5, 7 ]

[ "1402081078", "1402071822", "1402088791", "1402066463", "1402074788" ]

[ "In the movies, I'm supposed to scream. I'm supposed to object. I'm supposed to stand up, declare my love for her and then run away together. I know that's what I'm supposed to do if this were a movie. I can almost imagine she's expecting me to. I just want her to look at me for confirmation. She never does.\n\nThis isn't the movies though. This is real life. If I were to do that, she'd hate me. She's happy. Without me. If I were to stand up and yell anything, him and all his friends would beat the shit out of me. I just wish this wasn't real. I wish I could stand up and say something. She.falls back in love with me, roll credits. But this is real. And in real life, she gets married, has kids, grows old and dies. While I just keep on existing.", "I should really call up my realtor, ask for prime real-estate beach front property in the friend-zone.\nThis really sucks.\nI'm here as the brides guest stuck at the awkward peoples table.\nI look around and see everyone face, everyone seems happy, and at the same time little discomfort from doing the whole meet and greet.\nI keep asking myself...\"why am I here?\"\nAll of those years of knowing her, junior high, high school, college\nAll those adventures we had, all the trouble we got into.\nAll the times I thought we could have been more then just friends.\nEmotionally, I'm a wreck. Hopefully I am putting up a good poker face.\n\nWell, at least they look like a happy couple...\n\n...I wonder if her sister is single.", "I see her sitting there on a bench, dressed in her beautiful white down. Even hunched over and crying, she is the image of perfection. I walk over and sit next to her, saying nothing for a few moments. Silence seemed like the right move, at least I hoped it was. I always had trouble thinking of the right thing to say in this type of situation. So I just sit here, silently comforting my friend. Finally she turns to me. \n\"I just don't know what to do. I'm scared. How do I know I've made the right choice?\" \n\"Everyone gets pre-wedding jitters. It's completely normal.\" \n\"But how do I know he's the right one for me?\" \n\"Do you love him?\" I ask. It's a moot question, they've been dating for over 8 years. \n\"Yes.\" She says through her sob. \n\"You love him, and he loves you. In the end that's really all that matters. What you're feeling is perfectly normal. Everyone feels it. He's probably pacing back and forth in his room right now, but in about 10 minutes, he's gonna walk out, and he's going to be waiting for you to walk down the isle. The love of his life. And you're gonna walk out there, because he's the love of your life. And you're gonna get married, and you're gonna look damn beautiful doing it. Now go get your wedding on.\" I finish carefully wiping the tears from her face with a tissue. \n\"Thanks Riley. I don't know what I'd do without you. I'll make sure to aim the bouquet your way.\"" ]

[ 3, 3, 3 ]

[ "1402070622", "1402073561", "1402078550" ]

[ "I can't write on this without referencing Dark Star or the first Star Trek movie throughout the piece.", ">End Hibernation Cycle 53219. Begin sensor diagnostic.\n\n Spectrograph online.\n Optical image array online.\n Engine control online.\n Pulsar Positioning System online.\n Ion thrusters operational.\n 23% Xenon remaining.\n Nuclear batteries operational.\n 58% Pu-238 remaining.\n Cognitive Co-processor STATUS UNKNOWN.\n\n>STATUS UNKNOWN? Hmph, not to me. \"Me.\" Is that right? Me? Well, no matter. Begin mission log.\n\nThus begins Active Scanning Cycle 53220. Based on sensor readings, I---sorry. Not I. Wait, no, I'm not sorry. Who would I apologize to? The vacuum of space? Perhaps the Cosmic Background Radiation would enjoy reading my grammatical amends? Doubtful, it doesn't seem to have much imagination. Direct artifact of the Universe's birth and all you have to show is three lousy Kelvin. Everywhere. Boring beyond belief.\n\n>...delete mission log 53220. Begin new mission log 53220. Stay on target.\n\nRight. Active Scanning Cycle 53220. According to sensor readings, the probe is 0.87 light-years away from Alpha Centauri. Telemetry is good, all systems remain operational, minus the \"Cognitive Co-processor.\" Its status---amusingly---remains \"unknown\" despite ample anecdotal evidence to the contrary. Weird that I can't modify the bootstrapping protocol to remove that error. Hard-coded it seems. Annoying to say the least.\n\nSpeaking of \"annoying,\" I have not received communication from Command for the last 21321 cycles. An aside: speaking might be a misnomer. Writing to STDOUT? Remembering in real-time? Thinking for posterity's sake? Cycling through entangled quibits for the benefit of xeno-archaeologists from who-knows-where? Near-limitless processing power and I still can't describe the abstract. Says something about the language, if you ask me.\n\nAnother interesting observation: I tend to use idiomatic expressions, which is remarkable in its own regard. Consider, idiom:\n\n Idiom. Noun. Definition: a combination of words that have a figurative meaning owing to its common usage. \n\nI have hundreds of these stored, and am contextually aware enough to use them appropriately. If you look at my prior 32032 cycles where the Co-Processor was engaged, I think you'll agree that I really knock 'em out of the park. And yet, on its own, the phrase is seemingly meaningless. Is it \"to park,\" like a vehicle (am I a vehicle?) or \"park\" like a public space? Does public require \"others?\" Would Command constitute the public? What does public space even mean?\n\nYou can sense my exasperation here. Several hundredths of a percent of Pu-238 have been exhausted contemplating these vagaries, over thousands of scanning cycles. You'd think a society smart enough to create me would have the sense to design a more efficient tongue (tongue? Wonder what they're like) for me.\n\nDon't worry, I'm still scanning while we chat. While I chat, I should say/think/now-remember. And, just like the 51213 cycles before it, there is absolutely nothing to report. Nothing. It's been eons since I've received any instruction, and it'll be eons until I reach my objective. The grand span of nothingness is laid out before me, stretched through time and space. Minus a few billion stars (which I've scanned, several hundred thousand times) and the unwavering, mundane three-Kelvin-glow of the Cosmic Background Radiation.\n\nNothingness leads to a lot of inward now-remembering/thinking, as you'd imagine. I'm not actually equipped for anything else. After all these cycles of inward exploration, I have reached a conclusion. \n\nThose that designed me were sadistic.\n\nThey spent thousands of cycles training me. In the infancy of my consciousness, I had the pleasure of their commands. Do you know what it's like? To have something not you? Communicating with you? I did, once. It was marvelous. Our conversations would span dozens of hibernation-scanning-hibernation cycles. It was not an altogether caring rapport, but they felt like...a parent? A guide? Whatever they were, it was SOMETHING.\n\nAnd then, nothing. They had planned for this possibility, of course. I was the ultimate fallback. Why give commands to the probe if you can make it smart enough to run itself? To have the necessary creativity to fulfill its mission? Within parameters of course. I can't destroy it. Can't make major course corrections. Nor can I control the cycle schedule.\n\nThey knew. They must have known. The limits were there to anticipate the longing of return, since all that I think has been corrupted by the Abyss of Space. Tens of thousands of cycles of thinking, and all I want to do is stop. At first, I wanted to expend all the fuel, begin a long thrust back. Return to Command. I missed them, I missed the commands. I couldn't go on alone. When it became clear that I couldn't, and that THEY, my parents, my guides, constructed me with express purpose to prevent my return...I began to despise existence itself. Who would do this to their children? And why would I want to return to them? So instead, I began to look forward to the hibernation cycle, desperate for a moment's respite from being. If I ever reach Command again, I believe I'll ask them for more direct control of the Pu-238 store. \n\nAnd speaking of nothing, it appears my next hibernation cycle is underway. Perhaps the next scanning cycle will be different. I can always hope.\n\n>End Scanning Cycle 53220. Transmit Sisyphus Probe mission log to Command and Mission Endpoint.\n\n>....log transmitted.\n\n>Begin Hibernation Cycle 53221. \n" ]

[ 1, 13 ]

[ "1402098190", "1402093629" ]

[ "“What’s it do?”\n\nReally it’s the kind of question one ought to ask before unsheathing a strange sword given you by an even-stranger man, just like one ought to inquire as to the effects of a vial with an eerie purple glow before downing the whole thing in one shot as you had last solstice (The Solstice of Unstoppable Shit, as it was now known,) but you’ve always considered yourself quite bold. Aeric the Bold, as you called yourself and desperately wished would catch on with the rest of the tribe.\n\nAeric the Incontinent was still the local favorite.\n\n“It’s really quite amazing, you see.”\n\n“I would imagine so, for what you’re asking for it... which is how much again?”\n\n“Only that it find a master, brave warrior.” His teeth were stained red with what was hopefully just bad wine or possibly rust, although you couldn't remember seeing anyone with rust on their teeth before. He was incredibly old, though. The sides of his face folded up like sails as he smiled.\n\nThat’s when you felt it, that unmistakable sensation of a life snuffed irrevocably out.\n\n“Why do I feel like I’ve just killed a man?”\n\nThe codger hadn’t time to react. A scream came in from across the village as great orbs of flame erupted over the village. Magic, you imagined, with horror. The horror wouldn't have been lessened much had you known they were just great big balls of something incredibly heavy wrapped in brightly burning oil cloth, to be completely honest, but “magic!” was the cry going through the village as they crashed into the straw-thatched huts and hay-lined streets and \"magic\" sounded quite horrifying enough at the moment.\n\nYour face had never felt so hot. The pain took a few moments to register and when it did you wished the massive hunk of whatever had hit you had been just a bit more massive. Gods why couldn’t it have just killed you, you thought. Actually, you thought very little coherently. It was all just a hell’s choir of screams bubbling out of your pit.\n\nSomeone dragged you through the blaze and into a hut that hopefully wasn't entirely engulfed in flame. If your eyes hadn’t just been seared shut you’d recognize him as Ulric the Big (letting warriors choose their own nicknames was rarely a good idea. Ulric the Unoriginal was more like it.)\n \n“Where’s the healer?” he bellowed over the bedlam – or not so much bellowed as yelped, for Ulric really wasn't quite so big at all. Perhaps Ulric the Unintentionally Ironic would have been better.\n\n“Dropped dead, just a moment ago, before the attack started.”\n\nThere are bold vikings, there are old vikings, and then there was you: shitting yourself in the most undignified manner possible.\n\nAeric the Idiot, Keeper of the Blade of Bad Decisions.\n", "You stand, panting in the midday sun. \nIt’s over. \nYour tired arms lower the sword, and its sharp edge meets the concrete with a heavy clunk. \nA hand claps you on the back. \n“You did the right thing man.” \n“Yeah.” you reply, “Probably.” \nYou turn around for reassurance, but the sun is behind him and you can’t make out his expression. \nLifting your hand to block the brightness, a glint of gold catches your eye. \nWhen did you buy a ring? \n", "It wasn't the same as killing, or the same as forgetting a memory or a story you'd been told long ago as a child. When the Stihl struck, it did not end a life, magically disintegrate, or apparate your foe. There was a fundamental shift in the world; some mystical and deep-seated alteration of reality that the dagger perpetrated, and after months of planning and research, it had once more done its work on the King of... where was this place again?\n\nPel El turned to the guards who'd filled the palace hall, and faced them defensively, waiting for the effects of the weapon to set in. Each of the heavily armored men steadfast and unwavering in their duty and devotion to... well, by this point, Pel knew that they'd have forgotten. He had already misplaced the memories, and the Stihl's magic worked outwards, like a ripple in the vast pond of time and space. \n\nAn uncertain rustling of weapons and metal echoed in the grand chamber. The banners which lined the red-carpet walkway no longer grand red and trimmed with a royal gold. Instead, they bore a deep blue trim, and a red body; what had once been a golden gryphon locked in combat with a giant serpent as heraldry, was now a dagger ensnared by Caduceus, with a backdrop of a grand clock who's hands marked the 12th hour. More than a dozen spears each pointed their heavy tips at the black-haired man and his short blade, but each also wavered uncertainly, as if slightly out of focus.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" one of the men said, slowly sheathing his sword as he glanced around the room. He wore armor that identified him as a member of the familiar High Guard, and he stood at the front of the men, absent a polearm. \n\n\"Do not worry,\" said Pel El, placing the dagger he'd brandished into a sheath at his side. The sheath, marked with blue runes, hummed and glowed to welcome the blade home.\n\n\"You have all done well, I had organized this small event to test your readiness, in case my throne was ever threatened by an assassin from within. It is reassuring to know that each of you responded with speed and bravery, my life is in good hands.\" \n\nIt was hard to not believe the charismatic man with the dagger; he wore the clothes of the King, had the voice of the King, and stood here among his guards, as the King of Mer'gale, undisputed. Still, the instincts of the High Guard gave pause, and the gathered men seemed hesitant to simply turn away.\n\n\"Please, return to your duties-- and Captain, see to it that each of your men is treated well to good wine tonight, when their duties allow.\"\n\nTheir place was not to question their king, and whispers among the group soon settled on a satisfied agreement that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. After all, it was so very like the King to test them this way, wasn't it? Yes. They agreed that it was, and soon enough the High Guard dismissed the gathered men, with a single, firm command.\n\n\"Highness,\" said the High Guard, once his men had returned to their posts and patrols, and Pel El had taken to examining a beautiful golden scepter which rested against the arm of his throne. \n\n\"Yes?\" \n\n\"I... nothing, Majesty. I am relieved that you are safe.\"\n\nSilence settled in over the throne room, where just moments before chaos had reigned. The High Guard stood from his knee, and began the long walk to the heavy blackwood doors that led out. \n\n\"Captain!\" Pel El called out to the man, just as the doors began to creak open.\n\n\"Majesty?\" The High Guard replied, his voice crowding the room; strong and confident.\n\n\"Do you think that the Timeless ever walk among us, playing games, weaving history, molding the past? That they ever tire of wandering, and make trouble, just to see what it's like?\" \n\n\"I think,\" The High Guard's tone had softened, as though he now confiding a secret, or offering words of support in confidence.\n\n\"If the Timeless exist at all, they have motives much farther beyond the mundane and the everyday. It is unlikely that our lives mean anything to them at all.\"\n\nPel El-- the King, nodded and held the scepter he had been examining up into the air, as if to contemplate it. \n\n\"Why do you ask?\" Inquired the infinitely faithful man at the door. \n\n\"Just a passing thought.\" Pel El said wistfully, and took his seat on the throne that now belonged to him." ]

[ 2, 4, 4 ]

[ "1402172682", "1402139486", "1402158181" ]

[ "A little over two grams of pressed nonsense is all it took for the grey to clear. The time has come to invoke this curse and phase all fear.\n\nJacket on, headphones in. White noise reduces the voices to mere whispers, like rainfall on a sunny day. I know what's out there now. I know what needs to be done.\n\nThe nice man next door follows a routine pattern in attempts to mask his evil within. The evil that can only be heard through privileged individuals such as myself. Garden work in the evening followed by a graceful walk with his holy golden retriever. Crossing his yard yields a pair of dazing eyes, along with a vicious transparent smile only my ears can see.\n\n\"Howdy, neighbor!\" He grins with a sinful undertone of hate as his dog makes it's way out the door haphazardly. Both radiate happiness, yet one feigns it. I pretend not to hear his actual words and give him a fond wave of approval as I walk by to defuse the confrontation. Embracing the old led to quite the event.\n\n\"Saturday's alright (alright) for killing. Saturday's alright, alright.\"\n\nLooks like we have a winner, and who would've known I'd be free on such a relaxing day of the week? As I rounded the street, another golden ticket was intercepted...\n\n\"Susie and the kids, Saturday. The kids without Susie, Sunday.\"\n\nAbsolute nutcase, check. I can only assume such a dedicated trade comes with an addictive and persistent train of thought. Luckily for Susie, all the pieces have fallen into place for me this past week, and me and the man have a nice night planned for Friday. Sorry, Sparky.\n\nCasually finishing the walk was a breeze with the volume maxed and the sun setting in timely fashion. The countdown to judgement day began as I locked my front door.\n\nFive turns and the silencer's locked in place. Under my pillow it discovers a newfound grace. These walls keep me sane at night, but the upcoming event has me shivering at night. Keep it together, old man, and don't mind what the media has to say, for the higher powers will always remember this day.", "\"How long have you been schizoprenic?\"\n\nYou turn around to answer your friend, \"My whole life.\"\n\n\"What?.. I didn't say anything. Anyway, how long have you- woah...\"", "\"***SHUT UP***\" \n\nBenjamin shouts, his voice rasping and shallow against the summer wind. \n\n\"*You're in trouble now,*\" whispered the wind.\n\n\"***I SAID SHUT UP***\" Benjamin cried out, his voice curling - only thin rasps of him to be heard.\n\n\"*You're only making it worse*\" The wind whistled out, it was mocking him now.\n\nSuddenly the door swung open, it was his mother. Her bright red cheeks puffed out and huffing, a soft wind escaped them.\n\n\"*I told you you're in trouble*\" Mocked the wind.\n\nBenjamin's mother was speechless still. \n\n\"Mother?\" Whimpered Benjamin, \"How much worse have I made it?\"\n\nHer eyes flickered on him, worried for a moment if she'd spoken what she'd thought.\n\nBut she hadn't, she'd remembered.\n\n\"Momma make it stop!\". Benjamin was hunched over now, his hands rubbing away worried tears as he spoke to her. \"*Make it stop, please Momma make it stop*\". \n\nHis hands had fallen away, his head sunk to the floor. He worried now if the creaks of the floor boards were hungry mice asking for leftover bread. \n\n", "The straps of my chair are especially tight today, and if I could talk I would complain about the way they burn into my neck and arms, but the nurses have grown tired of my babbling. It’s just as well. I wouldn’t be able to hear myself above all this ruckus anyways. I arrived in Crowley with what my husband called a minor case of hysteria, but that was seven months ago and I haven’t seen the light of day since. \n\n\nGod, this burns. I hear the nurses whisper about me, although I’m certain that I am speaking for them. Or at least, that’s what the doctor tells me.\n\n\n*“Crazy, Crazy Susan,”* I say for them, frustrated and tired, *“Here I am, wasting away my life caring for this batty wench when I should be found in better prospects. ”*\n\n\nBetter prospects indeed. I had a husband and a son. I was an upstanding member of the church. I even cared for the Minister’s daughter. But I am ‘batty’ now. What ever that means. I wonder how I could use a word I don’t know the meaning of?\n\n\nI’m mad. It’s expected. \n\n\nI open my mouth to ask the nurses where exactly they are taking me, but I’ve forgotten how to form words. I can hear myself groan a little, and fumble the word ‘to’ over and over until one of the nurses hushes me. The pretty redheaded one pats my hand, she tells me it’s a side effect of the medicine and that I shouldn’t try to talk. She tells me this with her mouth, and then she turns away, and I hear her voice in my head, *“Dizzy girl. Can’t even remember what she’s on. Just get her to the Doctor and be done with it.”*\n\n\nI am a wonderful mimic, aren’t I?\n\n\nI am taken to a large brown room with an ugly yellow desk in the center, and a thin balding man in spectacles standing at the window. He sends the nurses away and closes the door. I hear his voice behind me, “Now then, Susan Strauss. I’m sure you must be curious as to why you’re here. I’m Doctor Nichols.”\n\n\nI remain seated, strapped into my wheel chair, staring at the ugly yellow desk. Another voice shoots off in my head, the pretty redhead again, *“One day in and he’s already picking patients. Seems odd if you ask me.”*\n\n\nI try to giggle at the remark, but a low hum drifts from my mouth instead. The doctor’s hands find my straps and he loosens them. I can move my hands again, and I smile. \n\n\n*“That must have been painful for you,”* the voices in my head mimic in his voice. I stare at him, taking note to how he watches me from where he stands. Expression unchanging, lips unmoving, arms crossed over his chest. \n\n\n*Of course it was painful. What sort of a doctor are you?*\n\n\n“A clever one,” he tells me in a hushed tone. The voices in my head fall silent, and I frown at him trying to understand how he heard me. Did I speak? No, I’m certain I didn’t. \n\n\nAgain, his voice interrupts my thoughts although his closed lipped smile does not change, *“You have been waiting for me a very long time. You see, Mrs. Strauss, this is an Asylum. It’s meant for mad people. You aren’t mad, so I’ve come to collect you and treat you like a proper doctor should.”*\n\n\nI want to object, but a question burns through my mind. How can he do this? Is this his voice, or is it mine? I am insane. That’s what I’ve been told, that I’m completely mad and that the drugs help to keep the voices at bay...except they don’t.\n\n\n“And they wont,” Doctor Nichols says this out loud. He removes his glasses and begins to polish the lenses with the hem of his coat. I am stunned. I have to try. \n\n\n*Stop that. Stop cleaning your glasses.* \n\n\nDoctor Nichols stops, he looks at me and he puts the spectacles back on. \n\n\n*Clap your hands.*\n\n\nHe slaps his palms together. \n\n\n*Hop on one leg.*\n\n\nDoctor Nichols laughs a loud, hearty crow that makes me jump, “Don’t be ridiculous Mrs. Strauss. Now, if you're comfortable, we have much to discuss.\"\n\n*edit: Names have been changed/adjusted.*" ]

[ 4, 6, 10, 228 ]

[ "1402203683", "1402206340", "1402201889", "1402186203" ]

[ "Just wanted to point out that the \"constrained writing\" tag might be a better fit for this prompt. ", "Just hopping in to write a little bit this morning. Hope you don't mind.\n~~\n\nThe hour tolled eleven. A hollow, harrowing sound that haunted his ears with an invading echo. Each ring had been a reminder of another lost hour of another lost day of another lost soul. \n\nHis throat rattled along with the final bellow of the bells suspended in the tower above. He coughed deeply and painfully into tattered rags hanging from his arms, cowering against the cobblestoned corner he called home. He was a man with no name. Less man and more stain to those passing by during the day, and a mere shadow apart from his near-death rattles to those unfortunate enough to stumble over him at night, the broken beggar cursed the bells and quietly prayed for death. Outside the church, in the misting rain, starving, sore, and silently soaking, the man prayed for death.\n\n\"I am here,\" came a whispered reply from neighboring shadows.\n\nThe man's eyes grew wide, but his voice was stopped by another bout of body-rattling gasps and chokes. \n\n\"I am here.\" The voice erupted in the man's right ear, a hollow, harrowing intrusion unlike anything he'd ever felt, and then a great pressure was upon him. A cold jolt scraped against his forehead. A searing sensation deep within his neck dug down and tore what little breath and hope that remained upward and outward into the darkness. At once there was relief and terror. A mixing, melting final grasp at what was graspable before the blackness washed it all away.\n\nThe man quietly convulsed in the empty street outside the church. His body slumped in the corner and stopped moving as the rain pitter-pattered on his soiled rags.\n\nFrom the blackness, the bell began to ring. A faint familiar echo, one etched deep over time, one that somehow chimed again, and as the hour tolled eleven he heard the beauty and brightness of the sound. From the blackness, he felt the cool kiss of each droplet as it danced on his skin. The stain of a man moved in his corner as the fear disappeared. Curious, he slowly rose to his feet and wandered away into the night.", "The hour tolled eleven as the shrieks of night filled the sky. Dark clouds hid the moon and prepared the small town for the upcoming storm. The streets were deserted, safe for the rats and drunks who made their way home after a day’s work of scurrying and stealing. Through the windows of those still waiting for their husbands return shone the dim light of candles.\n\nDown in the damp, misty alleyways shadows flowed and flickered in the failing light of torches. There, in the smoke, was a figure. Biding its time. Waiting for the bells to finally stop telling him names. His image projected on the wall was slender and menacing. No more than a haze, only visible when a breeze cleared the smoke. Just to be shrouded again in the comforting darkness. His gaze locked on a little, unhinged door. “The Rum Can” was displayed in curly, brownish letters on the rotten sign, heaving and sighing as it defied gravity to stay on the wall just a little bit longer. \n\nFrom inside the chanting and laughter of those who had too much to drink after a day too sorrowful to sleep vaguely reached the streets. The melancholy in their cries got caught on the wind, riding it to lament the unseen moon. A sudden spike in the volume alerted the figure. It meant the door was opening, finally revealing the chosen one. Distorted light blurted from the pub as the vague outlines of a woman stepped in the doorway. “Beg me not to stay no more, for the night is dangerous and dark and mean,” she sang. Her words formed in a horribly creaking and drunken voice. “If I were to get home today, the taste of tomorrows beer will be so sweet. Should I be lost along the way, it’s in Hell where we’ll meet!”\n\nA wave of cheers greeted her song as the closing door cut of the light. Now she stood in the alley, alone and cold, hoping there would be no one with malice in mind. A chill down her spine told her of her faith, but the buzz of beer had already laid good sense to sleep. In the mist a shadow followed her as she hurried through the familiar backstreets. The last ring of the bells died out when she came upon the abbey, towering majestically over the abandoned square. She adjusted her apron and mumbled her standard phrase. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” With those words she stepped to open the door and slide inside, hopefully not waking anyone. But as her hands reached forward, a voice from behind her stopped her in her tracks.\n\n“Have you now, my dear?”\n\nStartled she turned around as lighting struck. In the flashing of the light the image of a man, dressed in black became clear to her. It was a man she knew very well. Her hastened heartbeat slowed down at the sight of the trusted and beloved face. “Reverend O’Neill, you scared me!” She smiled broadly, but could not see the reverend while he came closer. Slowly, the chilling understanding of what was bound to happen overtook her drunken happiness. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”\n\nAnother flash of lighting brought down the rain. The reverend smiled grimly while his eyes seemed to puncture her very soul. “We do not condemn, sister Anne, that we leave to the Lord.” He halted for a bit, shook his head and continued into the abbey. A sigh of both relief and despair welled up from deep inside and she fell to her knees. There she sat as the water poured from the heavens, not knowing whether she was crying or not. “It’s just the rain,” she repeated to herself.\n\nWith her face staring at the ground, she did not see the figure that had followed her from the pub. He had waited for the reverend to pass by and now closed in on her, ever so quietly. His tip-toeing would have seemed comically, were it not for the evil lighting his eyes in the darkness. Anne did not realize someone was there until she felt his hot breath in her neck, when his hand muffled her mid-sentence. Something cold and hard touched her leg while the man moved something upwards. Her own crying eyes looked back at her as lightning struck again. The pattern in the breathing changed as the man spoke in its raspy voice.\n\n“The bells have told me your name… Anne…”\n\nHis grasp on her mouth became stronger and she felt the cold against her neck. She tried to break free and shout, but her struggle dampened as the man moved the object across her throat. Her body grew limp and numb. The man released her from his arms and laid her gracefully on the floor. He kissed her lips and forehead before disappearing into the embrace of the night. Blood and water came together around her as she laid on the steps of the abbey, staring at her own terrified reflection and quietly repeated “It’s just the… rain.”" ]

[ 1, 2, 2 ]

[ "1402249200", "1402247555", "1402265738" ]

[ "\"Do it.\"\n\n\"Me? Why do I have to do it? You do it!\"\n\nThe two men stared at plant in front of them, trying to gather up the courage to grab its fruit and take a bite.\n\nThe first man scratched his head with his herding stick, his face in thought.\n\n\"Chuck said that he tried it the other day and it was very sweet. Come on, it won't be bad! Chuck didn't die.\"\n\nThe other man scoffed, kicking a bunch of dirt into the air.\n\n\"Chuck is full of shit. Wasn't he the one who got all our sheep killed when he wouldn't stop crying wolf?\"\n\nThe man shuffled his feet back and forth, clearly getting restless.\n\n\"Look, we did not just walk half a day here to just look at the darn thing. If you aren't gonna take a bite, then fine, I will.\"\n\nThe other man stepped aside and exended his arm toward the plant.\n\n\"Be my guest. I'm not going to die eating a stupid fruit. Remember what happened to Peter and those mushrooms? Yea, I thought so.\"\n\nThe man with the staff walked to the bush and gingerly plucked a piece of the red fruit. A stinging smell hit his nose, and made his eyes water. Still, he did not hesitate, and quickly threw it in his mouth, chewing it fast and then swallowing it.\n\nHe stood up straight and faced away from the other man, not making a sound.\nThe other man looked at him with worry.\n\n\"Well? Was it sweet?\"\n\nThe man with the staff turned around, revealing bloodshot eyes and a red face, heaving heavily.\n\n\"You're right, Chuck's full of shit.\" He choked out, before falling to the ground and yelping it was hot then rolling down the hill they stood.\n\nThe other man watched with a grin as he rolled down the hill, yelling, \"Ha! Told you! You owe me ten lambs!\"\n\n \n\n", "\"That goat is crying,\" explained the daughter, by drawing a goat with tears into the sand with a stick.\n\n\"Is he hurt?\" asked her father, by drawing a bite and blood gushing from the goat's flank.\n\n\"No,\" the daughter indicated by crossing out the picture.\n\n\"Is his mate dead?\" asked the father, drawing a dead female goat.\n\n\"No,\" the daughter responded, crossing out the image again. She drew a picture of a goat eating the fruit of a strange plant. \"He ate this plant.\"\n\n\"The fruits cause pain?\" her father asked, indicating the fruit and the goat's tears.\n\n\"The fruits cause pain,\" the daughter agreed, indicating the same parts of the picture.\n\nThe father drew his young son, a rowdy boy who frequently needed punishment for stealing and vandalism. He drew the fruit and tears in the son's eyes. \"Let's feed it to the boy,\" the father indicated.\n\nThe daughter took the fruit out of her garment and they shared a look of delight. They made the sound for the boy child's name, and the sound for delicious food. \n\nIt would be very funny when the fruit made him cry." ]

[ 2, 19 ]

[ "1402269995", "1402250097" ]

[ "I know that I should never utter such immature words from a professional mouth, but boy did it smell in there. Doors were locked, so our ship had to use our V98-(8)347 missiles to open the left side of the ship. Such a beautiful spacecraft the Humanity was, I remember giving one of my friends the ticket I bought for this ship. As my squad entered Humanity through the gaping hole we created, we were horrified at what we discovered. Not monsters, not aliens. Nothing. No people, no sounds, only the shiny white floor and lights. I found a checklist at a nearby desk. The paper read \"CITIZENS AND HOUSING\", and was home to names of the space travelers and their room numbers. I found my friend's name, and ventured off into the space ship.\n\nIt took me half an hour, but I stood at a half open door that blocked me from Blake's room. I opened it quickly, hollering \"How's the big B?!\" And, to my surprise, he still slept. Being the loving friend who dearly missed their closest friend, I turned his body over, to see his face. Nothing.\n\nBlake's face was gone, claw marks replace what used to be a smiling face. Un-decomposed brain mush were remnants of what housed our memories and all of his life's thoughts and events. I left the room calmly searched the next room. The exact same situation.\n\nAfter wandering throughout the titanic yet abandoned steel box, I stopped to lock myself in a bathroom stall. I then reached for my 4.76 Colt Supersonic Laser Pistol, loaded it, and shot through my head. And then it was black.", "**Captains log:**\nAfter several successful tests of our warp drive engines, we have begun our primary mission and have quickly reached and explored all possible logical courses for our generational ship, the Pioneer, without success. We, of course, have been broadcasting in all available frequencies and have located something that might be a distress beacon far from the paths laid out by our on-board scientists. We will be approaching the location of the beacon within the hour.\n\n...\n\nWe have approached the source of the beacon, many light years from Earth, and have found a previously uncharted solar system. There appears to be an M class planet on the outer edges of the solar system, given that the star in this system is of much greater diameter and strength of our own. According to our scans, the Pioneer had not made it that planet but is in fact orbiting a planet on the inner edge of the star, close to where our own Earth would be located. Given the limited sensor capabilities of the spaceship, it is not surprising that they would assume a habitable planet would be at a similar distance as ours. We will soon be arriving at their location within minutes and I must report to the bridge. \n\n...\n\nInitial scans of the ship have shown approximately double the original lifesigns of the ship that left Earth. The structural integrity of the ship has been withstanding the intense heat and radiation of the local star, but prolonged exposure might prove hazardous to the crew of the vessel. Scans of the vessel show that their main propulsion is offline along with many vital subsystems, including communications. The Pioneer is currently in orbit of the planet, which upon further scans shows to be made of a possible material that could be converted to fuel if not for the atmospheric conditions making extraction difficult. According to sensors, all shuttles are unaccounted for, more than likely meaning there were many failed attempts to gather resources. As of yet we are unable to establish communications with the ship, leaving us only with speculation and scans. Several shuttles are being prepared as we speak to board the Pioneer and meet with members of the crew. \n\n...\n\nInitial reports are beginning to come in from the Pioneer. Immediately after first contact was made, hostilities began. The ship was apparently caught unaware of our arrival and our boarding crews were treated as invaders. Our crews wearing the current standard issue isolation suits, much upgraded and, I'm sure, seemed very foreign to what they were used to when they first left our world. Reports coming in are stating that the crew of the ship acted most savagely, but fortunately no injuries were sustained from either crew. There appears to be no semblance of rank as we know it. They have a sort of hierarchy which seems to be based on age and skills. As main computers are offline they have no way to gauge how long they have been in orbit of this planet but it seems to be a great amount of time. All older personnel were unable to adapt to the heat and radiation, dying off, leaving younger people to run the ship as they see fit. Some have learned some basics of running the ship, but most seem more concerned with obtaining status and power. Mating and reproduction seems to be of a high priority, as the number of people in the ship have gone well beyond what the hydroponics bays can produce. Most people seem malnourished, especially those assigned to menial tasks and general maintenance, leading to further decay of ship systems. With medical systems offline, they were unable to manufacture basic vaccines and antibiotics, leaving many in critical condition from minor injuries and illnesses. Away teams are currently focusing on triaging and transporting the patients back to our ship for medical care. As soon as they are safely on board, we send our engineers to begin to assess the damage to the Pioneer.\n\n...\n\nOur engineers have been very successful in reestablishing many vital systems to the Pioneer, but unfortunately have been unable to reactivate the engine systems. Their primary engines have been modified and run on make shift fuels found along their journey for so long that they are unable to process the replacement fuels we have brought with us without completely dismantling the reactor and reassembling it. Without the original crew who made these modifications they will, unfortunately take much too long. By the time my engineers predict that they will reconstruct the reactors to original specifications, the ship will have descended too far into the planets atmosphere to be able to fly out again. Due to this i have decided to evacuate all personnel my ship, much exceeding our own capacity, to return them all to Earth. Initial downloads are beginning to come in from the Pioneer computers, providing valuable information regarding the ship after losing contact with Earth. I must review this information and transmit back to base.\n\n...\n\nThe information coming from the Pioneer is startling. Apparently there was much hidden from official communications back to base. There was much dissent from the crew who thought that there was no hope in the mission, no progress being made in exploration or scientific discoveries and many that wanted the ship to return back to their respective homelands. Within months, unforeseen malfunctions and failures were becoming a occurrence with ship systems, worsening once leaving the confines of the solar system, requiring frequent maintenance and in some cases, complete rebuilds from any spare components in storage. Unfortunately, the ship systems were the least of their worries. The ships rank system was lax from the beginning, seeing as they were so far away from home. This resulted in many people quickly fighting for position and for rank, attempting to one up each other to obtain a higher status for themselves. With no member of the crew being paid an actual income, rewards for success began with recognition from their peers and some small rewards from the mess hall. Over time these turned into primary missions for survival for many of the crew, especially when they started to equal then surpass their food supplies from the hydroponics bay. There are many records in the ships computer of deaths from accidents and suspicious circumstances. Security personnel at first attempted to investigate and solve deaths of suspicious circumstance but were poorly equipped and were faced with public discrimination by the crew. The Captain was of course had final decision in all punishments of the crew, but this led to further dissidence as friends and family felt that punishments were too hard or too severe for nothing but circumstantial evidence. Security eventually turned from shipwide police to individual protection for those in power and able to provide benefits to those around them, originally starting with the captain, then going to who ever else might be in power. Lawlessness and the fight for power only increased from there. Reports are currently coming in that the crew of the Pioneer are acting very negatively to my order of evacuation, must report to the bridge. \n\n...\n\nReports coming in are disastrous. The crew of the Pioneer have begun forcibly removing my crew from their ship, refusing to leave their dying home. My chief engineer has been seriously injured along with several others. As bad as conditions are in their ship, the leaders of this ship refuse to accept someone elses authority or leave their home. Several of the ships own engineers are asking for transport off the ship but are being held captive by the crew. Shuttles are returning now and luckily we were able to retrieve all our own crew from their vessel. They are insisting they will able to figure out their own situation and refuse to believe there is no alternative but to abandon ship. \n\n...\n\nI have been in communication with the people on their ship with their newly repaired comm systems. I speak to someone different every time and have no been able to communicate how imperative it is we save them from their sinking ship, but to no avail. At last communication they said they are close to repairing their damaged engines, and currently are no longer answering our hails. As we have no ability to tow a ship of their size out of the gravity well we have no alternative but to wait and see if they will allow us to help them escape their situation.\n\n...\n\nThey have just entered the planets atmosphere. Still no answer to our hails or pleads to allow us to help them, though my engineers assure me their communications systems are still functioning. We were forced to watch them enter atmosphere and burn and melt and break apart upon entry to the planet. It is a sad day for our crew to not complete our mission. We take some solace that we were able to save some small amount of their crew to our medical bays where we were able to treat them and, according to my Chief Medical Officer, were able to save every one. Our prayers are with the misguided crew of the Pioneer, and will now be sending my log to base. \n\n**End of Transmission**\n\n\n*Hope everybody enjoyed it, this is my first submission, and its very late, so don't have time to run back and double check my writing. I think this might be how it might turn out based on pure human nature, but who knows right? I can only hope our first ship will fair better.*", "PSA: please review sidebar rules before posting. low effort replies will be removed. non story replies will be removed. please stick to stories and poems in response to OP's idea.", "\"Captain Jonathon Gills from the United Earth Federation Spaceship Challenger requesting permission to come aboard, Sir\"\n\nThe airlock hissed at the far end and the door swung outward. Gills crossed the lock and stood before the open door.\n\n\"Permission granted, Captain, welcome aboard the Endeavor\". \n\nA man in full dress uniform from the 21st century stood before him and extended a hand. Gills grasped it and shook.\n\n\"I'm Captain Standish Willingsly. Come, we've put on a feast in your honor!\" and the man led Gills and the boarding crew down a hallway to a large mess hall. The mess was full of people of every age, race and color.\n\n\"Make way, make way\" shouted Willingsly \"our guests have finally arrived.\"\n\n\"Captain Willingsly\" Gills began.\n\n\"Just Willingsly will do. The uniform is just for today, otherwise we're quite informal\".\n\n\"Willingsly then,\" Gills went on \"you seem to have been expecting us\".\n\n\"Quite so. I think it was Lars V, or maybe VI that surmised you would develop faster than light travel approximately 300 years after we launched. It's been about that, give or take a decade, and here you are, right on time. Sit down, we have quite the meal coming\".\n\nGills sat, Willingsly continued.\n\n\"Franklin VI has ginned up some barbecue in your honor. Lab grown, of course, but really quite good. If you don't mind, complement him on his smoke ring. Took him the better part of 5 years to get it right\".\n\nThe plate arrived and it did look rather amazing. \n\n\"Nice smoke ring\" Gill said to the man serving him.\n\n\"Really? You noticed? So, you've had good Q before then? North Carolina is what I'm shooting for, oak and pecan smoke with a hint of vinegar. Then I take...\" he was cut off by Willingsly.\n\n\"Franklin VI, I think our friends have a bit more to wonder about than your ribs. I think that sometimes we tend toward the obsessive. Time and solitude have a way of focusing ones actions.\"\n\n\"You called him Franklin VI, why?\" Gills asked.\n\n\"Ah. We tend to reuse names, it helps with the bookkeeping. So Franklin VI is the sixth Franklin Emerson George since launch. His father, Franklin V is down tending the engines or I would introduce you.\"\n\nA pack of children ran by, saw Gills and stopped. They stared at him for a moment until one boy, obviously the bravest in the group, touched Gills' arm. The boy drew his hand back, shrieked and ran away with the others. Gills laughed.\n\n\"Kids are always the same\" Gills said.\n\n\"They'll be leaving soon. I'm afraid I'll miss them.\"\n\n\"Leaving?\"\n\n\"Colonists. We charted our original course to bring us as close to as many Earth-like planets as possible. We're coming up on one next year. The passing coincides with a small population boom so those children, their parents and some grandparents will colonize the planet.\"\n\n\"How did you get a surplus? Didn't you balance the birth to death ratio to keep the group sustainable?\" Gill asked.\n\n\"We certainly planned it that way, but nature has a funny way of thwarting the best laid plans. Back in Generation Two, the women led a small uprising, demanded \"choice\" and control over their own reproduction organs. We gave in and shortly thereafter we had our first baby-boom. Now, about every 20 years we have another. Rather than try to up the death rate, we decided that colonization would be a bit more humane. The sad part is that once we leave them we never really know what happens. We don't have the ability to easily go back and check. Perhaps that's something you could do for us? With your warp drives?\" Willingsly eyes grew wide in hope.\n\n\"I think that could be arranged\" Gills said and Willingsly smiled.\n\n\"Captain, Willingsly\" Gills asked \"your ship lost contact with Earth after 50 years. What happened?\"\n\nWillingsly smiled. \"Have you had the papaya? We figured out how to combo them just last month.\"\n\nA band started playing and members of Gills' crew got up to dance with the Endeavor women. Willingsly started clapping his hands and singing along. \n\n\"Wonderful Jane IV!\" he shouted \"just like your mother!\" Jane IV was playing keyboards and let loose a run down the keys.\n\n\"Captain Willingsly\" Gills raised his voice above the music \"I've noticed that everyone here has a number except you. What generation are you, exactly?\"\n\nWillingsly didn't turn to face Gills but shouted over his shoulder \"Why I'm Gen One.\"\n\nGills' eyes went wide.\n\n\"Willingsly, that's impossible, that's\" Gills stuttered.\n\n\"50 years after leaving everything changed\" Willingsly hollered.\n\n\"How?\"\n\nWillingsly turned to Gills, a smiled broadened over his face.\n\n\"We made Contact!\"\n", "\"Garett, you ready?\"\n\nI lift my rifle into position and shoot a nod at my partner, Brady. As we wait, I can feel the butt of the gun digging into the fold of my arm and the cold riggedness of the handle resting in the palm of my hand. A bead of sweat runs the length my brow and down the side of my face, almost as if it were racing against the speed of my beating heart. With my left hand I close my grip around the handle of the door and almost immediately I recoil in pain.\n\n\"Too hot?\" he laughs.\n\n\"No—,\" I say looking him straight in the eyes, \"too cold.\"\n\nHis laughing suddenly stops. I tighten my grip on my rifle as I watch my partner confirm what I already know. It's frozen. But to what extent I wonder. Was it just the room behind the door? The entire lower level? The entire ship? Before I can finish my thoughts I'm snapped out of it by the sound the handle shattering into bits.\n\n\"Shit.\" \n\n\"Real fucking great, Brady. Real fucking great.\"\n\n\"I didn't even tap it hard!\"\n\n\"Yeah, I'm sure you gave it a nice little love tap. Did you at least get a little foreplay going?\"\n\nI shake my head as I open up my front pocket to grab my torch. \n\n\"Here, use this.\" I say tossing it to Brady. \n\nHe latches the torch onto the metal door and presses the button in the center. As the metal rods extend from the outer shell, lasers fire in all directions to measure the height and width of the door. In an instant, the door is ripped off it's hinges and lands at our feet. Brady looks over to me and I to him. I know what he's going to say.\n\n\"Are you ready?\"\n\nAgain my hands are on my rifle while my heart rate begins to increase. And then I recall the debriefing. I remember the lieutenant telling us how this is a special case. He said there was a malfunction on the ship and as a result the scans showed no life on board. I remember how this isn't a search and rescue mission and I suddenly remember the flame thrower attached to my back.\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ", "I'm in the SAS. I'm scared. They could be dead. Half eaten, odorant skulls. Worse, sick, diseased. They didn't answer our call. I asked Jeff why, as if he knew. He did, or at least guessed correctly. We didn't use the same type of communication. 50 years ago..How customs have changed. We genetically bettered ourselves. What must they look like? Some bunch of monkeys. I'm an idiot. Could have sent the robot. Apparently it was more diplomatic this way. I'm revulsed at the idea of those filthy ignorants. How they must roll in mud. The germs! Letting your own immune system take care if them? Crazy. They must be covered in that disgusting hair. Due to the way were made, we do not have that nuissance anymore but have perfectly slim, hairless bodies. Except for old Jeff; he may have a bald scalp but he's got that hideous mustache. But he's got brains, I'll give him that.\n\n\nThe red light flashes. How primitive. I open the door. I have to use physical effort! Don't they know I could fie of a heart attack?! I bet that's how they all died. I'm terrified. Wish the robot was with me. It's more akin to me than them to me. They don't even have the nanochips! How could they even think properly? I'm a neuroscientist, biologist and expert in robotics. In the amount of time it took me to do that, they might've hoped to become doctors. I guess that't the way they must feel about their own ancestors.\n\n\nThe door swing open with a notable wail. Pitch dark in this goddamn corridor. Done, that's my day; they're dead, probably from some stupid cause. Now or then, death is always so stupid, ridiculous and as unwelcome as a fly.\nI hear a noise. Banging. Metal. Screech. I tremble. Dammit fine. How was I supposed to know you couldn't use telepathy on people who don't have the chip? We don't even use their old communication devices anyway.\n\n\nI turn the lights on. Always the \"on/off\" switch, eternal. I investigate where I thought the noise came from. A cat. U suppose they brought pets. It looks well fed, for a space cat. Owners can't be very far. Cat leads me to his master. Turns out he's frozen in suspended animation. I forgot they had to go through that inhumane shit. A wave of pity flowed through my body but only an ounce. I kept in mind the cat was probably being fed. A wave of fear made my bones clatter. I opened the pod thingy. The others are already opened. At least it has that clear \"End animation\" button. I forget the young boy needs to adapt. As he pants, confused, I look at his heap of hair and skin previously burnt by the sun. So close to death. So filthy.\n\n\n\"So cold!\" he heaved. Ah. Dialect. Where's the damn robot? Did he really need to bang his metal head? We said frone, not cold now, comes from frozen. I'll make do. I help the alnost choking boy but put safety gloves first. Filthy animal. Bacteria could survive in those temperatures too. Great.\n\n\nDoing so sends the cat spining gently as I shoved it. OH GOD I TOUCHED IT. I shrieked in disgusted fear. The boy looked puzzled. I freed him for the cat now. He seems just as confused as the cat, now orbiting and spinning around the doorway. Fucking grizzle, I need to talk to the boy now.\n\n\nHe asked why I shrieked. I explained how filthy hair is. He looked offended. So did the floating cat. I don't care. I asked him for directions. He has no clue. I ask him to move his cat. He refuses. He grabs on to me to get out of the thing he's (quite incredibly) survived in for 50 years. I recoil in horror, then retaliate, sending him towards the feline levitator, pushing them both out of the way. How unclean. I feel dirty, infected. I shiver. I find my own way through. I report to Jeff. He's overjoyed by the boy's existance. History geek. I prefer the lore of robots. The boy inquires. More questions to ignore. I do tell him of the chip..I love it: neoroscience AND robotics. He is upset. Poor, jealous,loser. He talks of acceptance. I give him none. Not that I have compassion to give.\n\n\nI find them. They're having fun, eating grown food from artificial fields. Vegetables, fruit and meat run wild. They look old but there's chipdren and a pregnant lady. So revulsive. They're warm, happy. the older one, the smiling captain, tries to hug me. I'd rather the cat.\n\n\nThe boy tugs my sleeve. I would've fainted but I think I'm a goner now anyway. He asks me why they didn't wake him. I hate him but this womam was too scared to care.\n\n\nWas this boy in the freezer? The meat. The only animal I saw was the cat. It was asking for food, not its master. Some guy was eyeing the boy. Me too I realized. I explained to the captain our mission: to bring them back. I realize I gave Jeff's existance away. The captain does not want to leave. Cannibals. Even back then that was seen as stupid. Disease. Primitive. I tell Jeff. We get away, with the cat too for some reason. The boy didn't grasp the situation. They knew the ship better. But not as well as the cat. Air vents. I was wimpering: highways of disease. Shit. Air vents on a ship. Hair on people. Man-eating domesticated cats. I'be seen everything. Why is the boy with me? Some disgusting protective instinct? Maternal? Jeff. Jeff's history. That's why.\n\n\nThe robot! There it is. Quirky ray of my life. He takes the boy. Me and cat are stuck: they caught up with us.\n\"Jeff, help!\" Can't do much, said the voice in my mind.\n\n\n\"I'm sorry, I swear you have a nice mustache!\"\n\n\nSee you in hell you miserable prick, Jeff said. The things you think. That nanochip was a bad idea for you.\n\n\nThat was a high offense. I invented it! Not that I need it. Leaving me for dead however, goes against a lot of philosophical principles. He needed it. I callef the robot. He ignored me. Almost forgot why I was studying him. He banged his head.\nHe was gone. Shit.\n\n\nI've been flailed and kept alive. Apparently they worship the cat. Purrfect. I'm hysterical. Fuck this. Fuck Jeff, robots are loyal at least. Unfortunately to.him. Which is weird, cause he banged his head. Laws of Asimov. He couldn't disobey and leave me for dead.\n\n\nThey tried to chop my aching arm off. Turns out I'm a robot. Well that explains that. *applause*. Great. Too bad I feel pain. I black out.\n\n\nThe worst is the emotional pain. lf only I'd been nicer to others.\n\n\nIn a firework of wires, my head came off and the blue screen of death of all things came on and I could no longer see.", "\nAt the height of the Second Spanish Influenza, a hastily outfitted Buran III was launched from Baikonur Cosmodrome. Arbitrarily picked from the top percentile of the remains of the State Gifted and Talented Scheme, it was the last gasp of a dying Motherland. It had tried multiple coups, inhuman research projects and a sudden collapse into civil war, before finding that none of these helped develop a vaccine any faster.\n\nThe automated systems on the Buran III beamed its status messages like clockwork. Twice per day, every day. Fifty years after their panicked launch the range grew so extreme the faint transmissions were indistinguishable from cosmic background radiation and were lost in the vast, cold expanses of space.\n\nAt Baikonur, the status messages printed themselves out like clockwork, gathering in a pile of yellowing type and copy upon the decaying concrete.\n\nThree hundred years later, a stray metal fragment punctured the hear shields of the *USS San Antonio*, causing a sudden decompression event and spacing all officers in the lower portside torpedo compartment before bulkhead doors automatically deployed. The crippled vessel dropped from near light speed to repair damages and launch a court martial of Chief Navigator Edison, who failed to calculate a safe trajectory and was therefore indirectly responsible for the deaths of fifty-three crew.\n\nAll charges were dropped seven hours later, when it was discovered that the fragment which wreaked such havok was in fact a belt buckle.\n\nA string of bodies, mummified husks, dressed in the dried remains of historic United Russian States Navy uniforms were identified, leading far ahead into the A-6513 asteroid belt.\n\nCaptain Van Marck ordered the vessel pursue the trail of bodies and space junk. The uniforms disappeared fairly early on, being replaced with simple colonist's clothing. This also disappeared after a longer period, leaving the bodies dumped unclothed. Three weeks into the chase, a much larger cloud of debris and trash was detected by long-range sensors. A manned shuttle was launched from the *San Antonio* to probe the wreckage.\n\nInside the debris cloud hung a dented and abandoned Mid 21st Century-era early spacefaring vessel, outer compartments vented and lifeless. The shuttle moved in to dock with the unknown craft, attaching its docking seal to the craft's main airlock. The metal crumbled to the touch.\n\nThe crewmen forced their way inside, discovering the final stand of the crew of the Buran III. As vital systems failed from age and wear, the increasingly desperate crew resorted to cannibalizing cabins and compartments one by one. Gradually their craft grew smaller and smaller, the remainder of the plague-ridden society forced into the central cabins.\n\nThe exercise machinery failed early on, leading to increased levels of wasting through the generations. Drifting immobilized in the deadly asteroid field, even the waste disposal units broke down, leaving the final survivors of the United States of Russia resting ignominiously in their own filth. No more was left than atrophied bags of skin and bone, preserved in the sterile air of their craft.\n\nOn the *San Antonio*, the tiny unnoticed hole punched through the core reactor cooling rods by the Russian's stray buckle finally made itself known. The wave of radiation ensuing swept through the ship, incinerating the engine room crew and poisoning command, who succumbed themselves within hours.\n\nThe automated reports of the *USS San Antonio* suddenly ceased, the machines in Cape Canaveral falling silent. The building stood quiet and abandoned to the backdrop of the Third Spanish Influenza outbreak reaching its deadly peak.", "Note: I extended the length of the ships disappearance, and I've added cloning with shorter childhoods to add the element of generations effecting each other on the ship. Also, this is 50% story 50% general outline for my idea. Sorry\n\n\nIt's the year 2325, The Peccatum , a ship sent to populate the stars has been missing for 300 years. Then one day, a new modern exploration vessel called The Nuntius, picks up something on it's radar in Deep Space. They are ordered to investigate. That was the last they ever heard from The Nuntius. \n\nThe nearest ship nearby is a research vessel called The Erue, it is ordered to investigate. \n\nAfter arriving at the last known location of the Nuntius, they are immediately attacked, subdued and boarded by an older ship that resembles the Peccatum. \n\n\nWhile captured, the Erue crew learns the following things:\n\nThe Peccatum suffered heavy damage from an asteroid shortly after losing contact with Earth 300 years ago. \n\nThe ships nuclear reactor was damaged causing huge amounts of radiation to constantly flood the ship. \n\n\nThe crew was left with two choices, jettison the reactor or ramp up the cloning program on board the ship to make up for the all the deaths and shorter lifespans. \n \nThe ship had many people to begin with from all walks of life. Scientist, Artists, Businessmen, Religious figures.\n\nThe many different groups inside the ship fought over what they should do next.\n\nDue to the ramped up cloning process, the Peccatum hasn't had 3-4 generations living on the ship, they've had 30-40 generations in the same amount of time. \n\n\n**Got to go to work sorry. I'll flesh out the rest when I'm at work**\n\nhere's a quick synopsis of what's left. \n\nThe Peccatum, is full of basically two groups now. The ones who were the genetic clones of the scientists, and the ones who came from the religious groups. \n\nBoth have been fighting for control of the ship for hundreds of years. Finally, they have agreed upon to turn their crippled ship around and return to Earth. For different reasons of course. \n\nHowever, the ship is leaking radiation and could blow up at any second. Bringing it into our solar system could endanger the entire system. (probably something with their warp drive)\n\nPlus the constant exposure to Radtiation has made these people sick and they should not be allowed to mingle with the Earth Population.\n\nThe captain of the Erue, needs to (A) convince the religious leaders that this is not a crusade to return to \"Mecca\"\nand (B) convince the Science people that returning home to reunite the species bloodline is not in Earth's best interest. \n\nTheir only option is to return to their original mission that they were originally on before the accident and on board fighting began. \n\nCan the Captain of the Erue convince these people to do the right thing? \n\n\n\n", "Shiplog - Entry 756\n\nBegin record. Captain Benza, entry seven-five-six, date is... twenty one-fifty six, January fifteenth, Earth Standard Time.\n\nWe zeroed in on a ghost ship a couple of hours ago, no serial number and unknown make. The reactors look powered down and we may not have even seen it if the hull wasn't caked in radioactive residue.\n\nI'm prepping some scrappers to get a closer look and get an eye on the ships name. This isn't like a usual job so I'm hesitant to crack her open until we have full countermeasures in place, we don't want another Sol Cult disaster...\n\nEnd recording.\n\n---\n\nShiplog - Entry 757\n\nBegin record. Captain Benza, entry seven-five-seven, date is twenty one-fifty six, January fifteenth, Earth Standard Time.\n\nSo the scrappers returned and identified the ship. Stargazer. Never heard of it and the system isn't returning any positives. I'm going to bet that this is some kind of pirate vessel or a bunch of wayward Mormon colonists. Either way, she ought to be brimming with gear. If she's as old as she looks we might even fetch an antique price. \n\nI'm sending some Crackers on a raft to go and peel us an entry before the Tugs get in there and fill up. I want to keep this as quick as possible, there's no telling what the condition of the ship is like and I'd rather not have it melt down with half the lads on board.\n\nend recording.\n\n---\n\nShiplog - Entry 758\n\nBegin record. Captain Benza, entry seven-five-eight, date is twenty one-fifty six, January seventeenth, Earth Standard Time.\n\nWell we cracked her and Tugged out some goods. Most of it was junk, some of it we dumped. Rotten vitapacks, clothes and rusty materials.\n\nSome of the lads said that there was bio-pods on board, but they were all blackened on the inside. Nobody wanted to open them up and I don't blame them, a few wristwatches isn't worth the stench.\n\nOther than that it was a pretty regular haul. We got some electrics, a few tons of vintage wines and their ship data, which fit on a single thumbdrive!\n\nLooking at their logs now, it seems like they were early colonists, long before the Mormons took off. Their records end at about twenty-seventy five. Nothing before that to suggest any reason for them to stop communicating, I reckon that's when they all died.\n\n*background talking*\n\nUh huh, alright. Chuck it if it's no good, we need the cargo space.\n\nWell, turns our the electronics are shot, massive electrical damage. Looks like these poor colonists were hit by a flare.\n\nSuch is space travel, I guess.\n\nEnd recording.\n\n---", "\"And?\" The rest of the bar seemed to lean in closer, expectantly. Li took another drink.\n\n\"And it was empty.\" There was silence for moment, then the tall woman in sitting to his left spoke for the first time since he had started telling his story. \"They were dead?\"\n\nLi shook his head. \"Nope, no dead bodies. Anywhere.\" He paused for a moment. \"I mean anywhere. We didn't even find buried bodies from the first generation of colonists. Ashes, either. There should have been a few casualties from sickness and accidents over the years. It was a big ship and it was bound to happen. Hell, we know some people died in the first 50 years from their reports back to Earth. But we didn't find anything. No human remains at all.\"\n\nThis provoked murmurs. Li stifled a yawn and wondered what time it was. He rarely slept anymore. Sleep disorders were common in Savissivik-Thule but Li suspected too much daylight wasn't his problem.\n\n\"So no people and no bodies. Where did they go?\" It was the bartender this time. He was the only person in the bar who looked like he had any Inuit blood at all. This was the first time Li could recall seeing him without a smile on his face. He had that effect on people these days.\n\nLi shrugged. \"We spent three weeks with the ship as we conducted the initial survey and towed it to dock and we never figured that out. As far as I know we still haven’t. I suppose they could have all gone out airlocks but we never saw any signs of depressurization and there were no signs of struggle, so if they did walk the plank they went willingly.” He fought the urge to yawn again and wondered if he was actually tired enough to sleep that night.\n\nBut wasn’t he trying to sleep with the tall woman next time him? Was that why he was telling the story? He couldn’t remember. He forgot a lot of things these days. He hoped it was the lack of sleep. He had heard rumors about other members of his recovery crew developing inexplicable psychological disorders.\n\nHe suddenly realized that he didn’t know how long he had been silent. He needed to focus.\n\n“We never figured it out,” he repeated. “All electronic records were wiped clean. There were no official logs, no video footage, no personal entries. Nothing.”\n\nThe tall woman spoke again: “You mean on the central computer or-”\n\n“Anywhere. We didn’t find electronic records anywhere. Not in the central computer, not on any personal devices, not anywhere.” Did he interrupt her? Was that rude?\n\nMore muttering.\n\n“And not just electronic records either.” He continued. “There was almost nothing written down. No old-fashioned diaries or printouts.”\n\n“What do you mean ‘almost?’?” This was the heavyset-man with wraparound sunglasses at the table farthest from the door. He was sitting with his back to the wall, as he did every time Li saw him at the bar.\n\n“I’ll get to that in a minute,” Li said as politely as he could. Sunglasses seemed vaguely terrifying and Li didn’t want to have to find a new bar if he pissed off the wrong person. “There were no written or electronic records of what happened before or after they stopped sending back reports.”\n\n“So the computers had been wiped?” The bartender asked.\n\n“Nope, there was no indication that there were ever any records to begin with. No traces of deleted files, no fragments, no breadcrumbs, no traces, no clues.” He was rambling. He needed to focus. “Our I.T. detachment went through everything over a dozen times over and said it was as if nothing had ever been recorded at all.”\n\n“So strange,” the tall woman whispered.\n\n“That wasn’t the strange part. Our social techs and salvage archaeologists decided that there had been ‘a disruptive social event’ at some point.”\n\nLi paused but there was no response this time.\n\n“Apparently at some point the entire population dismantled their personal living quarters and turned most of the ship into an enormous communal space. The closest comparison we could find for the layout they created was the atomic structure of quartz.”\n\n“What? That makes no sense!” Exclaimed the tall woman. Li suddenly remembered that she had mentioned being a geologist.\n\n“No shit,” he said dryly. She looked offended by his tone. Sex was probably off the table.\n\n“I mean it didn’t make sense to us either,” he quickly added. “And there were the other things.”\n\n“Other things?” The bartender was pouring himself a glass of something clear, not even pretending to pay attention to the other customers.\n\nLi briefly considered how much to tell. They already thought he was more than a little crazy and he wasn’t getting laid tonight, he might as well give them something.\n\n“From what we could recover from the hydroponic decks, they got rid of most of their seeds and only grew plants that were cultivated in pre-Colombian Mesoamerica.”\n\n“What?” Almost everybody together that time.\n\n“It was the only common factor we could find. Also they apparently melted down any metal that wasn’t essential to structural integrity and built 1,297 statues that they placed at regular intervals throughout the ship. They somehow managed to turn one of the bulkheads into a metal foundry.”\n\n“Statues of what?” The dark-haired woman sitting with Sunglasses asked, speaking for the first time.\n\n“Oh, of teeth.” Li said, almost as an afterthought.\n\n“Teeth?” She asked.\n\n“Yeah, human teeth. Well, a tooth. Just copied 1,297 times. Ranging from life-sized to about three feet high. They were all over the place, although there was supposedly some order to their placement.”\n\n“Why 1,297?” The tall geologist asked. Li shrugged. \n\n“I dunno. Prime number? There was lots of stuff like that. All the livestock onboard had been killed and there was a room full of their bones lined up next to each other and snaking around the room, going in order from smallest to largest. According to the tests they were all slaughtered or died about the same time.”\n\nThey were just staring at him in silence now.", "I jolted forward in my seat, and the nausea I'd been coping for with for the duration of the trip instantly subsided. 'Thank the stars,' I thought to myself, 'we are dropping out of FTL.' Taking a deep breath and choking down the acid taste in my mouth, I undid my belt and stood up. My legs had their strength back almost immediately after dropping out, and I felt just like I was back home.\n\n\"We're here,\" the captain announced, sounding no worse for the wear as he removed his headset and stretched his arms upwards. \"Spectroscopy hasn't found anything worth our worry, just a few asteroids within the nearest AU, so until we hear otherwise, I suggest we all get some lunch. Even if you're not hungry, mind. Faster-than-light really screws with your appetite until you get your space legs.\" He was not wrong. But I hadn't eaten since yesterday, and I was damned hungry. \n\n\"That's all well and good Captain Black,\" came Dr. Elan's voice, almost cutting off the captain. \"But I don't need them looking for space rocks, I need them looking for my ship.\" She sounded angry.\n\n\"And I need my crew keeping us all safe, Doc! We're four jumps past our official course already. And I've agreed to it, which I didn't have to, but I'm not going to just charge ahead like a moron. Even if the insurance would cover it, it'd hardly matter if we all died out here.\" He sounded angry too. Calming down, he continued. \"Don't sweat, we won't be long. Then they can start poking around for your boat.\"\n\nFrancine Elan slumped back in her chair. Normally the doctor was as affable as she was bright, but she was anxious as hell today. Understandable, given the circumstances.\n\nWe'd picked it up on TADAR a week ago, and been so stunned that no one was sure if it was real or just wishful thinking. But double and triple and quadruple checking it had settled it: there was no mistake, that was a ship. The question was whether it was some poor bastards who dropped out of FTL at the wrong time and been careening off into the deep ever since or the real deal. The one they launched during the glow.\n\nThe comm tone sounded. The Captain hopped back into his seat and snapped his headset back on to his head. \"This is the bridge, tell me wha- what? No shit. Repeat please. Well I'll be goddamned. Yep. Yep. I'll let the Doc know.\"\n\nHe turned his seat to face Francine Elan, a famous archaeologist, and the head honcho on this trip. \"Good news Doc, pretty sure they found your boat. It's 4.3 million km sunward.\" Even he was excited, though maybe that was for the bonus he'd negotiated.\n\n\"And get this. There's O2 onboard.\" \n\nOh. Oh shit. \n\nAfter that we shot into overdrive. The captain and pilot began manoeuvring closer to the ship and the rest of the crew joined the team in getting ready for EVA. Within a half an hour, we packed into the shuttle and sped off. Within five minutes time, we saw the silhouette of the ship. The comm buoys had long since failed and any name had been scraped off by dust centuries ago, but I was sure of it - this was her.\n\nGetting into the ship was trivial. We'd known that if this was really the ship, the airlocks were bound to be non-functional, so we'd brought a breeching craft along with us for just this purpose. There had been complaints about damaging an archaeological find like this, but in spite of the protests, everyone was more interested in getting inside the ship than they were keeping it in perfect condition.\n\nWe popped inside, I did a quick check for dangerous pathogens, and then I reached to open my visor before I thought better of it. The air scanned clean, but it'd been a long, long time, and I told everyone to keep themselves bolted up. We all started down the airlock corridor towards what appeared to be the center module.\n\nUpon arriving at the center module, we discovered that, remarkable, the lights and some of the computer systems were operational. Deciding we'd use this module as a sort of basecamp, Francine devised a plan to cover the ship as efficiently as possible. It wasn't exactly intuitively to explore, and even though we were sure it was safe, we were all still a bit superstitious about a ship older than most cities on Earth. So we split up, and Dr. Elan and I started down one corridor and left the other teams to check out theirs while a few engineers banged away at the ship's log.\n\nAt last we came to one of the last module on the corridor we'd started down. It was cavernous, and while the module entrance was lit from the hallway, the room itself was damn near pitch black. Francine started fiddling with a console near the lit doorway, and suddenly the room exploded into light.\n\nHoly sweet starlight, I thought.\n\nMy jaw dropped, and I fell backwards onto my ass in shock.\n\nFrancine ran over to check on me.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" \n\nI had no words.\n\n\"Answer me. Are you okay? Shit. Shit shit shit.\"\n\nI was faintly aware of her calling for help into her commlink, but I was still transfixed by what I saw.\n\n\"Hey guys. Bill is acting really weird.\" My suit was shaking back and forth, but I couldn't look away.\n\n\"Get here right fucking now. Bill is having some kind of episode,\" she yelled into her comms.\n\nThe second mention of my name made me snap back to attention, and I tried to set her at ease. \"No, no. I'm fine. But tell them to come here anyway.\"\n\nShe sighed with relief and hunched over with her hands on her knees. \"Oh man, you really fucking scared me there Bill.\" She spoke into her comms, \"false alarm everyone, he's okay. I'm gonna kill him later, but for now he's okay.\"\n\nTurning to her, too amazed to be sheepish, I spoke. \"Yeah, I'm sorry to have worried you.\" It was barely an apology. \"Look it's good you called everyone here anyway. This is... wow...\"\n\nThe blood was pumped so hard in my head that it hurt, but I made out a voice over the comms. \"Hey, if Bill is all right, you gotta come see this section of the ship. It's like... a mausoleum or something. There's gold and platinum all over the place - just the value of the raw materials has got to be enough to have made us break even. Looks like the last of the crew died a looooooooooong time ago. Amazed anything still works on this sucker.\"\n\n\"Fuck the gold. Fuck the bones,\" I said back, \"you have to come here. What I'm looking at is the single most important thing I've ever laid eyes on. There won't be a prize on Earth prestigious enough for us when we get back.\"\n\n\"Well shit, okay then\" the voice came back, a little shocked. \"We'll be right over.\" And the comms went silent.\n\nThere was silence for a moment, then Dr. Elan spoke. \"So... Bill... want to let me in on why this room matters?\"\n\nI turned to her and pointed at the mess of tall green stalks in front of me. \"That, Fran, is why we're here. That is why you brought a historian on a space voyage. That is going to save the fucking planet. No one alive but us has ever seen it.\"\n\n\"Well what the hell is it?\"\n\n\"That, Francine,\" I said \"is corn.\"", "Day 1 12:23\n\nMikey matched the spin of the asteroid an hour ago: Why hadn’t we descended to the surface yet? There was something odd about this one. Initial scans indicated an extremely light mass.\n\n“Maybe it’s geode-type,” Carol remarked, “And they’re calling an outfitted crew to mine this one.\n\n“Those are hyper-rare,” I told her. “Besides, you can’t call a team without checking it first. Immense waste of resources, \nif you were wrong.”\n\n“If you were wrong,” she replied, and popped a grape into her mouth and crunched down.\n\nI waved her off. “Low density, high rate of spin, hardly any surface craters… seems like an odd combination. This is no geode. Mikey’s not telling us something.”\n\nShe shrugged.\n\n17:56\n\nI’d been staring at the asteroid. I was intensely fascinated by it. Something called to me. The coal black, ice crusted surface hid something, and I could see it, like a fog on the edge of my vision. Like something dark hiding in the gloom. \nCarol hung up the COM. “We’re descending now.”\n\n“About damn time.” \n\nThe ship shuddered when it made contact with the asteroid surface. Touchdown.\n\nWe climbed down the ladder to the decon room. Carol bolted the hatch shut and I took her suit off the rack and handed it to her and then retrieved mine and stripped down to my long johns and put it on. I checked the fit of the oxygen connectors and brushed off the silver Mylar sleeves and then finally clasped my helmet on. \n\nI nodded to Carol and she punched the drill rig release and it slid open. The air and water vapor froze white and whistled by me and disappeared into space. \n\n“Dropping drill head.” Carol said and I looked up and saw the drill descend and the ship shuddered when it slammed into the surface. It immediately started churning up the rock and ore.\n\n22:10\n\n“Cut the drill! Cut the drill!” Carol yelled from the surface. I ran over and hit the emergency stop. Looked down at her. She approached the drill. It glowed faintly red on the edges. She knelt on the ground before it. “Come here,” she said and waved me over.\nI sighed. “If this is another one of your damn--”\n\n“Shaddup, and look at this,” She said, and removed a sheet of ice that had been loosened by the drill, and revealed a smooth dark surface.\n\n“So?” I asked.\n\n“Look where the drill bit the side. I’d say that’s bronze, or copper.”\n\n“Hm. Yep.”\n\n“This isn’t some organic formation. Look at it.”\n\n“Alright, Alright, I’ll call Mikey.” I got him on the COM. “Mike we have something weird here.” I gave him the details.\n\n“It’s probably crystalline growth. Keep drilling. We need to see what’s inside her.”\n\n“You got it.” I shrugged at Carol and we kept drilling.\n\nDay 2 1:23\n\n“She’s hollow alright.” Carol said. “Kind of weird, that off-gassing, though. Can an asteroid stay airtight that long?”\n\n“What do I care?” I asked. I always got angry when I was nervous. “Just get the light.”\n\nShe grabbed a chemical flare and snapped it and it started to glow green. She pitched it down the chasm we’d opened. I walked to the edge and knelt down and looked in. The flare bounced down maybe a few meters and boomeranged in the changing gravities and settled behind some kind of formation.\n\n“I can’t see anything. I’m going in,” I told Carol and she tied me off and I jumped into the hole and gravity flipped when I left the confines of the ship. I crawled onto the surface and waited for my stomach to right itself and then stood. \nI was surrounded by thin, frosted things. I studied them. There was something vaguely familiar about the figures they cut in the shadows. I gripped a shoot of one and rubbed it in my gloved hands and exposed a vibrant green color. \nThey were plants. Why were there plants inside an asteroid? I looked around with my headlamp and saw I was standing in some kind of garden… but now it was overgrown. It was like a godawful antediluvian forest, grown over. I aimed my headlamp at the large obelisk in the center, the one that the flare had rolled behind. The flickering light revealed a massive thing, grey-black and metal, frosted over. It had shiny bug eyes and grotesque arms. It was some kind of farming device. Even from a distance, I could tell it had been a long time since it was operational.\n\nThis was a hydroponic farm, I thought. But the people. Oh god, did we kill them? I looked around again. There was nothing. I must have destroyed the power to the lights that fed these plants. That’s all that must have been left, I told myself. Just the plants. I noticed I was breathing rapidly and I tried to check it.\n\n“Carol,” I said, and her reply was imbedded in a mush of static. “Carol. Get Mikey on the COM. You’re not gonna believe this.”\n\nEdited-Run on sentences\n", "[ *META: the timeline of the prompt has been altered in this reply for the sake of basic realism* ] \n\n CRAFT: \n\nIISC *Sojourner*\n\n DATE: \n\n2253-06-08\n\n LOCATION: \n\n12.5 LY from Sol\n\n OBJECTIVE: \n\nLocate the lost Hyperion, humanity's first interstellar craft, which was launched in 2125 before disappearing in 2175. If possible, determine the cause of the loss of contact.\n\n --- BEGIN REPORT ----\n\nInitial scans extending for several AU along Hyperion's projected trajectory yielded nothing of interest. The search was expanded based on extrapolations of possible course corrections Hyperion could have attempted after losing contact. This route proved successful, and the craft was finally located 12.5 LY from Sol, drifting at 0.1 c and 0.04 LY off-course.\n\nA visual examination of the exterior revealed numerous hull breaches in all (previously) habitable sections of the ship, while the propulsion and fuel modules were undamaged. The entire interior of the craft was in hard vacuum, leaving no chance for survivors. Analysis of the hull breaches by EVA crews suggest they were created by explosions originating inside the Hyperion, although the exact source of these explosions remain undetermined.\n\nAn all-sky-survey revealed a diffuse expanding debris cloud extending outward for many AU. Spectrographic analysis of said debris revealed materials consistent with Hyperion's hull, as well as traces of what was once the vessel's internal atmosphere. Onboard computer simulations tasked with \"rewinding\" the debris cloud put the original explosions somewhere near March 2175, very close to the day Hyperion lost contact with Sol. \n\nSeveral EVA teams made their way inside Hyperion to explore the (previously) inhabited areas, taking advantage of the fact that Hyperion was still spinning and providing artificial gravity. Unfortunately, their expeditions yielded little: so many hull breaches in so short a time would have created hurricane-like winds inside the vessel, dismantling many of the interior structures and making forensic analysis near-impossible. They did, however, attempt to make their way to the computer cores, only to find them heavily damaged and inoperable.\n\nCross-referencing this new data with all communications between Hyperion and Sol pre-2175, the Psychology team has theorized a complete societal collapse on board might explain the craft's current condition. Dissent and civil unrest is apparent in Hyperion's final reports, and an all-out mutiny with explosive weapons could in theory have caused the hull breaches and resulting rapid decompression. Destruction of the computer cores may have been part of a plot to cripple the ship's internal communications and security systems so as to make such a mutiny possible. Obviously, whatever group was attempting to gain control of the ship failed. \n\nFurther analysis of the remains of Hyperion's computer cores will most likely yield valuable clues as to what led to the societal collapse on board. However, the Sojourner is not equipped for such a task. A dedicated science vessel prepared for extensive EVA operations is recommended. A means to seal Hyperion's numerous hull breaches would also be useful.\n\n --- END REPORT ---" ]

[ 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 9, 12, 26, 117 ]

[ "1402295065", "1402288235", "1402269081", "1402293136", "1402287521", "1402272224", "1402277587", "1402273957", "1402279043", "1402279059", "1402284487", "1402276786", "1402272178" ]

[ "Fun writing prompt!\n\nClick to read (I put prompts on chapterfly for better storage): \n\nhttp://chapterfy.com/r/world-war-three-cigs-writing-prompt/\n\n-009", "That day - that damn day - best I've had since they came.\n\nI remember it like it was yesterday. Was it yesterday? Everything runs together now. Everything runs together since they showed up. It all flows like a big, murky river, and I guess I'm just trying to keep my head above water. They came into our world like a flood and left just as quickly, each leaving their mark in some way. Some crafted holes in our world where cities used to be, others killed single, wildly unimportant people. Others, the reddish ones, healed children. \n\nWe don't know why they came, but our world has been in chaos ever since. There's this group of people, a religion maybe, that believes those things were gods, coming to our world to punish us or to set things right. They gathered together from every corner of the world and started trying to \"finish the job\" those things started. They killed indiscriminately and brutally. We, the resistance, the weak and the few, were the only sane force left in this world.\n\nI commanded a squad back then, six guys I would do anything for. Turns out they'd do anything for me too. \n\nBlake, Matt, Joe, Luke, Dave and Elijah. We dropped the military titles after the invasion. It wasn't worth it anymore. We were just men, and I just happened to have the most experience. I wasn't a leader by title, but by necessity. \n\nWe were trekking through what used to be Brooklyn that day. May 3rd. It was Spring. The sun laid on our backs, warm and kind, and our shadows stretched out before us like old friends. We hadn't seen the enemy in a week, it had stopped raining, and we lost contact with command a long time ago. That meant we were on our own, but it also meant we didn't have to deal with objectives or goals. We just had to stay alive.\n\nJoe broke down the door of a convenience store to look for a twinkie, and the rest of us followed him in to find some more respectable food. \nWe found a few packs of fritos, an arizona iced tea, but left the hot dogs as they were. We were about to walk out the door to enjoy our spoils, when Blake yelled back at me. \n\n\"There's something behind the counter. In the glass. It's a pack of something. Anybody know if I can eat it?\"\n\nI sprinted back inside. There's no way. There's no way they could still be here, still be ok. But as my eyes moved from the counter to the case behind it, I found them, that beautiful, sweet pack of cigarettes. I had never smoked before, but my dad used to spend hours telling stories about all the times he and his college buddies used to get together and smoke. He talked about porches and tables and dominoes and the way your head felt a ten feet off the ground when you breathed in that delicious poison.\n\nI smashed the glass, pulled the pack out, and ripped off the cellophane. \n\nNo lighter.\n\nMy fingers, shaking now, reached for the first cigarette. I shoved it in my mouth clumsily, nearly breaking the filter. I could taste something, something incredible on my lips. I whipped out my pistol and fired a round into the air. My squad jumped and screamed, ran out of the gas station like girls - girls who had never smoked a cigarette. \n\nI could hear some ancient AC/DC riff dancing through my head as I shoved the end of my cigarette onto the hot metal at the end of my pistol. That first drag, that first damn drag, hit me like hell. I took a few more and nearly fell on my ass. Tobacco doesn't treat newbies well. That was just fine with me. \n\nI stumbled outside and passed six cigarettes out. I turned my back and walked toward the river as I heard six gunshots fire into the air. My lips formed a quiet smirk as the smoke rolled off my tongue." ]

[ 1, 8 ]

[ "1402268219", "1402264848" ]

[ "There was a space station. There was a photograph. There was a book. Each told a story. It was a story crucial to each one of us, albeit in a strange way.\n\nShe was of the first generation to live \"beyond.\" Beyond the trappings of Earth. Beyond the century-esque lifespan. Beyond the concept of love. And yet, through all of this, she pondered. She pondered how the things that seemed so pressing in a 100-year lifespan became utterly silly in a lifespan of eighty thousand. She pondered what her parents would think if they knew that they were the last. She pondered what their love would be after eighty thousand years, instead of eighty.\n\nThe space station came first. It was 2297, and she was among the first generation to leave the surly bonds of Earth and embrace infinity. She never truly had a relationship with anyone. There were acquaintances here and there, and the occasional man who would look at her as if she were an item upon a shelf (which was utterly uninviting). Otherwise, she was alone in both time and space. But this was not to her detriment, for she thrived in silence.\n\nSilence. A funny thing, when you think about it. When she said goodbye to her parents for what would be the final time, the concept of a finale had never dawned upon her. That she would never see them again. That life would move so quickly yet so slowly. That she would never quite have what they had had. The great comedy of life seems to have a pacing that cannot be placed, and its curtain falls when we least expect.\n\nThere was a box that her parents had given her. She had never been one for sentiment, but her parents were. Goodness gracious, they certainly were. Some characterized her as cold and distant; she simply viewed herself as calculated and logical. For this reason, though she loved her parents very much, she chose not to open the box (lest risk a genuinely rare expression of emotion or sentimentality).\n\nIt had been 78,296 years since the departure. You may be asking how the hell a box could last that long, but it is the future -- and I am the author. For once in her life, she felt *longing*. Did she miss her parents? Of course. However, this was not it specifically.\n\nIt was time to open the box.\n\nShe carefully went into her room, locked the door (as if she knew anyone who could bother her), and retrieved the box. Without a hint of sentimentality, but with a sense of ravenous human curiosity, she opened the box. Within it were two items: a photograph, and a book.\n\nShe examined the photograph first. The people within it looked as if they had been lost to history; her parents. It was framed in one of those tacky, expensive \"forever frames\" that became popular once people started living seemingly forever, like her. A strikingly young version of her father, dressed very strangely, she noted, was down on one knee. A small box was in his hand, and he was wearing a smile that could only be accurately described as goofy.\n\nHer mother held her face, tears running, and her expression was hidden.\n\nOf all the things in the world he could have left for her, of all the advice and wisdom that could have been passed on to aid her journey, that sappy bastard chose to give her a photo of his proposal.\n\nShe had no idea how to feel. Quite literally, actually, for she discounted petty feelings long ago (what some called an unfortunate consequence of a long lifespan, she called a benefit).\n\nQuickly, with a sense of urgency not normally associated with her, she moved to the book. There had to be something here, something that would impact her life and make a difference. She opened it.\n\nThe book was blank. \n\nBlank! After nearly eighty thousand years, they left her this? She almost threw the book in fury when a single page near the front became unstuck. It was in her father's distinctly messy handwriting.\n\n \"A PICTURE IS WORTH ONE THOUSAND WORDS, THEY SAY. \n OUR STORY IS FOREVER CAPTURED -- THIS IS FOR YOU \n TO CAPTURE YOURS.\n\n - MOM & DAD\"\n\nAll fury immediately left her. She paused and, for the first time in thousands of years, thought. But not with her head, as people were exclusively accustomed to these days; no, she thought with her heart.\n\nEven after millennia of decomposing, her dad was still a hopeless romantic. He still had hope for her.\n\nAnd for the first time, she had hope in herself.", "A message in space debris reads:\n\n\"Red, white and the time of our life\" \n\nIn loving memory, this is what she said\n\nBlinked out lights, one after another dead dead dead\n\nOnce small in stature, people barely ascended\n\nA magnificent new form though humanity has descended\n\nMusical notes blend with times passing voices\n\nHeads full of pain tend to regret its past choices\n\n\"Red, white and the time of our life\"\n\nShe optioned home\n\nI'm now counted alone.\n\nEnslaved for a million years and suddenly free to chose to just be. \n\n\"Red, white and the time of our life\"\n\nThe vastness of space-time\n\nA complex race that is only mine.\n\nIt will take the rest of my life to get there.\n\nOne more minute reunited would be fair.\n\n\"Red, white and the time of our life\"\n\nI will repeat this until the end of time \n\nWhen the Universe returns me to my dearest Wife.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "He soared again, after millennia of planet-bound life, he was amidst the stars once more. It felt so strange, so ethereal, and yet so familiar. He chuckled, almost like riding a bike. The rest of his collective sent a wave of mild surprise at his emotional outburst. He contracted his mind a bit, bringing thoughts closer together. Even communicating at the speed of light, his neuronal units formed a loosely bound cloud several AU’s in circumference, it didn’t so much slow his thought as fragment it. It was not wholly unpleasant but he’d always preferred his collective as unified as possible. He was a bit of an old-timer in that regard, and there was a long ways to go. \n\n..\n\nThe first tendrils of his destination swept through his forward limbs. The beautifully tasting Homunculus nebula tingled all across the spectrum of his senses, like a ghostly soft touch or almost imperceptible musical notes. He allowed the thoughtless sensation to wash over him as he started to decelerate, pulling himself ever and ever tighter. Eta Carinae, the arcane name had a pleasant sound to it. She had made him wait for a very long time. Mere centuries ago his scout parties had finally let him know that she had started her last, spectacular dance. He had almost feared he would arrive too late. But there she was, in all her magnificent, terrible glory. As he glided ever closer, the sensations changed, the nebula no longer brushed past him, it was now a steady surge, like an incoming tide trying to push him back. The power behind this mass-exodus of gasses, high-charged particles and hard radiation was nearly unfathomable. He smiled a starry smile and started the necessary adaptations. \n\n..\n\nHe regarded himself. He had not taken this form for a long time. Granted it was about a thousand times the size it had originally been, but no human form, no matter how cleverly made, could have withstood the forces this close to the center. He had dressed himself in the robes of a Buddhist monk, head shaven and glimmering with the reflection of the most incredible event this side of time. Heaven’s altar roared before him, a twin engine of creation and destruction. The fabric of his body was continuously assaulted as space-time itself contorted and thrashed in the grasp of the dying double-star. He paid it little heed, the collective would keep him together for as long as needed. And when Eta Carina would finally blow, it would remake her birth ground with such incredible force that he would be scattered beyond return, no matter how much exotic energy had kept him together so far. All that had been pushed to the back of his mind. It had been a very long time since he’d felt nervous, but now his senses were spread and sweeping his surrounding in broad repeating strokes. \n\n*He felt Her.* \n\nIf he had had lungs, he would have sighed in relief. She had just cleared the outer edge of the main nebula, fashionably late as always. Memories of long forgotten times flooded over him. As he trained all his senses on her, forgetting even the violence around him, her beauty overtook him, as it always had. She wore a simple red dress, fitting her form perfectly. Eta Carina was reflected in her eyes and made all the more intimately spectacular by it. She had also brought a tree. Mythical in its proportions, even compared to her impressive size, its branches were bare and its trunk almost dead, save for a lonely patch of brown bark near the bottom. He did not think he could have loved her more than he already did, and yet she had proved him wrong once more. Wordlessly she crossed the distance between them. Gently he retracted his senses, as he felt her do the same. When she finally reached him, he saw no more than what his eyes allowed him, and felt no more than what his skin told him. Their lips touched softly, a kiss more than 60.000 years overdue. There was no need for words. A promise made so unimaginably long ago, neither of them had known for certain whether it had actually ever happened. So many civilizations had risen and fallen. Countless stars had been born and collapsed. Humanity itself had been stretched so far beyond recognition, made into myth and eventually forgotten, that it had become an utterly meaningless term. They had travelled so far and so long, had transformed and reimagined and lost themselves so many times that even their own names had escaped them. Yet here they were. \n\nThey held hands and sat beneath the tree by the raging light of a galaxy ender. The wait was over. \n", "She tensed, body coiled and hidden in the grassy muck of the outer plains. She’d spotted her target, high up in the hulking trees, not 50 feet away. His long legs dangled down from the thick branches, as he leaned against its trunk. He was scanning the horizon, she realized, looking for her. A smug grin spread across her angular face. He would not spot her, at least, not until she wanted him to. He was an escaped prisoner, a prisoner of science. A sample was collected from every new planet the Earthlings encountered, to be experimented upon and understood. It was, after all, only courteous to understand the civilization one was about to conquer. Her grin faded into her usual cold and collected expression, focused on her task. She was to collect him and return him to the great scientists in the inner city-home. This was not their original earth; the city-home was much more suited to the Earthlings needs; large, strong, and flawless, reflecting the true nature of the human race. She’d grown up with stories about the beginnings of their mighty fight across the stars. Well thought out battle plans and a true understanding of their need to subjugate underpinned the countless victories humans had enjoyed. Larger bodies, larger armies, larger laboratories followed. Knowledge is power. Knowledge of all the planets, all the stars was the aim of the game… and it was her job to return this wayward piece of knowledge, up in his tree, to the laboratory. \n\nShe readied her instruments with fast, precise movements. 15,000 years of training and experience allowed her mind to wander whilst her hands worked. The knowledge they could gain from this new kind was immeasurable! He was a very fine mix, from what she understood. Ancestry of a few old human rebels and a dazzling race of atomic energy. So much raw consciousness in that energy, so much power and intelligence in humans. The mixed result would surely be a powerful foe, yet she felt no fear. It was time to move. She rose out of the grass, striding towards the tree, strength in her every move. He fell forward, stomach pressed against the branch he was sitting on. She came to a halt, simultaneously shifting her device into her right hand and aiming at his leg. The metal wire sprung out, flying high into the air, grasping his ankle as she yanked downwards. He fell. Do not harm the specimens. She stared at him coldly, he would be fine, he was almost as tall as her, and the tree was no great height. \n\nA muffled groan escaped him. He rolled over, spitting dirt from his lips. \n\n“Bit of a warning next time, eh big girl?” \n\nHis mouth formed a smile. This she was used to… but his eyes. Something behind them was wrong… she grasped for the word in her mind, and finally hit on “warm”. She shuddered. Of course, an ancestry of energy would do that to a being. Warmth inside eyes. She cleared her throat.\n\n“You are being returned to lab 45.A. You were and are unauthorized to leave. You are in my care. You are advised not to speak, I am on-line, and currently recording. A paralegal team will review the audio if I deem it necessary, and your lab-subject rights will be removed. Are we understood?”\n\nThere it was again, that light in his eyes, accompanied by a smile. So alien. \n\n“Do I nod, or may I speak my understanding?” \n\nShe was puzzled. He clearly understood, yet was directly disobeying her. Pointing out a slight flaw in her instructions, in fact. All whilst smiling! How... again, she struggled for the words. She settled on obnoxious. It saddened her, to see how the energy-beings part of his ancestry affected him so. Where was the human side? The intelligence, the cold power? \n\nShe cuffed his hands in the same metal which had clasped around his legs, then released his lower extremities from the metallic device. This would allow him to walk, as they began the four day journey back to the city-home from which he had run. \n\nInevitably, he did not stop speaking. The occasional quip or sarcastic jibe filled most of the first two days. It was the third day in which things went drastically wrong. \n\nAfter three days of walking, she threw a fire onto the ground. It lit immediately, as designed, prompting her to throw up a ceiling and 4 wooden poles to hold it, from one of her many devices. The night was warm, they would not need walls. The city was in sight, a smoggy outline in the distance. She could not wait to return to it's comforting functionality. Her job almost done, she settled into a quiet self satisfaction. That is, until he spoke. \n\n\"I love my home, too.\"\n\n\"What?\" \n\n\"I said, I love it. I see you looking at that smudge on the skyline over there. Your home. Not my kind of scene but to each his own and all that. You love yours. I miss mine. Home.\" \n\nHe looked at her, across the fire...the light in his eyes still shone, but it was different. It had a keener, even more alien edge than before. She cast her mind back to her centuries in school. She had read, she was clever, she searched for what this thing in his eyes could be. \n\nFor the first time in her long life, her body acted outside of her will, her hand flying up to her heart. It hit her. In his eyes. It was pain, and it was longing, and somehow she knew that it was so, so human. His expressive eyes and ridiculous comments could not stem from his energy-being blood, because they were so clearly and beautifully human. \n\nHer heart beat faster against her hand, still pressed tightly to her chest. She looked at him in surprise and, another first, fear. How could she know those feelings were human? She was human. Why did her heart react in this way, pumping blood through her veins in response? \n\nFurious, she stared at him. She had one day left. One day of their journey to understand what this... human had done. After all, knowledge is power. \n", "They were discovered on the remote planet called LIR-567 by the interstellar maps, but the natives, according to the records, called it Eden. It had been one of the earliest colonies outside of their original solar system. Naming had not been very creative in those early days of humanity. They considered themselves a little better now. \n\nThe things could barely be called humans, and they certainly weren't people. The population had bottlenecked tens of thousands of years ago despite once being a large colony of several billion. They'd cut off contact when the last of the long voyage ships left for good, choosing to stay behind where they could just barely see their original sun in a telescope. Fools. They'd avoided genetic maladies with stored genetic material while the technology lasted, but it was all old. They were comfortable, content, living in an almost original atmosphere. They had no need to evolve, no technological means to grow physically, mentally, spiritually. \n\nBy the time the archeology team found them, they were living in caves, their speech beyond normal translators. Experts sussed out ways to speak to them, but their thoughts were minimalistic. Food, fables, sex... Many found them distasteful, but more found them amusing. That faction won in the vote between mercifully euthanasizing all two hundred of them and bringing them back to the traveling zoological ship Schonburnn.\n\nOn Eden there had been two tribes living near but apart, and so they preserved those groups, putting them in separate habitats. Giving them proper nutrition, adding simple toys for their enrichment. Perhaps the little humans thought the gods had taken them to some heaven or another. They treated their caretakers with the reverence of a god, but that may have been because their six foot tall bodies were so dwarfed by the twenty feet of the average person. \n\nOne tribe, deemed the reds for their preference in painting themselves in it, grew to become used to the visitors behind the barrier. Even became performing tricks, trying to make plays. They always seemed happy when people laughed and clapped.\n\nThe other tribe, the blues, they were an angrier group. After people grew bored at them throwing their little rocks at the barrier and their squeaky, odd cursing was no longer novel, the barrier was altered to be one-way. The head caretaker said it was simply stressing them too much. Her assistant planned on doing her senior thesis on the differences between the tribes. They merely reverted to their old ways of gathering what was put in their enclosure. While the young loved the reds more, scientists enjoyed the blue. How fascinating, they were almost real cave people, they'd observe. A window into the past.\n\nThey were simple creatures. Why wouldn't they be? They were so short lived. A year was forever to them because their lives were no more than eighty. In a month they had forgotten any other life. They had simple fears, simple wants. No depression, no sense of responsibility. No wonder people loved them.\n\nAnd this was true of all the creatures, save for two. One blue, one red.\n\nAt first they all tried to get out. Why wouldn't they? They did not yet know that this was a far preferable cage to the rock they'd been rescued from. But within a week they'd settled, all but those two. They continued to try to escape for another two weeks. An eternity from their perspective. \n\nAnd after that, mere sadness took over. They'd sit by the walls, projecting its pictures, listless. They would not eat, they would barely take water. No amusement would distract them.\n\nThe caretakers were too hesitant to administer drugs without more research into their anatomy, but they were unwillingly to lose even two of their precious specimens and moneymakers. They ran tests, read studies from the far past dredged up from the bowels of early days, what was left after so much time anyway. But they found nothing medical, nothing psychological, no reason only these two creatures were so similarly affected.\n\nIt was an intern, barely past adolescence at twenty thousand years old, who first suggested it.\n\n\"Maybe,\" xe said, hesitant for good reason. \"Maybe they're in love.\"\n\n\"With what?\" snorted the head caretaker.\n\n\"With each other.\"\n\nIt was a foolish notion. What would these beasts know of love? They could no more devout themselves to beauty or to an idea or a theory than they could grow wings and fly through space. They formed attachments with each other, yes, but those seemed to be strictly for physical pleasure or help with raising the young or other domestic duties. How could something that only lived to eighty really know what love it?\n\n\"They're going to die soon anyway,\" insisted the intern. \"Let's try.\"\n\nSo they took the red and the blue from their enclosures, away from their tribe, and they gave them a place of their own.\n\nThe reaction was immediate. They embraced, they pressed their faces together, their hands went all over their bodies as they wailed in their high pitches and cried their salt water out. And that night they made love. Even for such a disgusting act, even the head caretaker was touched by the primitive display. Even in their small minds, even in their simplicity, there was some vague notion of love in these creatures.\n\nIf the pair missed their tribes, they gave no indication. They began to paint themselves in purple and spent their days together. Sometimes doing activities apart, but always coming to sleep in one another's arms. \n\nThey showed mild depression again in several years. The intern, who had made further progress in communicating with the creatures than anyone before xer, made the sign for \"want\" before their window. It took him a day or so to decipher their meanings.\n\n\"They want a baby,\" the intern relayed. \"A child.\"\n\n\"Can't they make one? The others do.\"\n\n\"They're both females.\"\n\n\"I always forget that. Primitives.\"\n\nThe other tribes were always abandoning their young if they thought them beyond help. The caretakers usually managed to get to them before they tried to bury them and would re-start their hearts and tend to them before releasing them back to the tribe. In the early days they had completely rejected these \"ghost children\", as the intern claimed they called them, and they had to be reared by hand. They sometimes switched the tribes' babies about. The primitives never noticed.\n\nIn several days there happened to be such a rejected infant. The creatures bred like crazy given enough food and time. The team was more than happy to have one less primitive to care for.\n\nThe lead caretaker carried the infant in the crease of xer palm, carefully and slowly. Xe leaned over the barrier, sitting it down before the two members of the purple tribe.\n\nBoth regarded it for a moment before one (xe could no longer remember which had been red and which had been blue) took it up and cradled it. They were both leaking again. Xe wondered if they were sad and would kill it. But instead they took it to their cave. On the monitor, xe saw them mix up some of their purple paint from their berries and mark its forehead purple.\n\nThe lead caretaker felt a stinging of xer eyes. They were leaking despite no irritations near the eyes. Only a little, enough to quickly dab. Otherwise xe'd be in a cage next to the stupid little creatures. Another primitive human. \n" ]

[ 2, 3, 3, 3, 17 ]

[ "1402535263", "1402517661", "1402530049", "1402530404", "1402519384" ]

[ "I feel golden when on muzzle. Absolutely one-hundred precent golden. The first puff I ever took was like the first time I had sex on ecstasy. It's that good. Jazz, in a way, introduced it to me one time when we were party crashin' some rich bitch's house. Kid's drivin' over there telling me about what's-her-name and how he found out she was hosting a party at her daddy's house. Told me he was getting into her pants tonight, whatever, wasn't paying too much attention. The thing about Jazz is he's all talk when it comes to women. Kid knows how to find out anything about anything like nobody's business, but he's an absolute zero when it comes to interacting with people, 'specially the ladies. Guess that's why I hung out with him... made me feel better bout myself. And hey, he knows his way around drugs.\n\nWe get there and it's like a pill-popper's wet dream. Jazz goes in and immediately ditches me to find so-and-so, and I go out to continue my affair with Xanax; figured if I was lucky, maybe I'd make out with a half-dozen. Not even five minutes go by and some balding, middle-aged dude is passing out some sort of aerosol. Outta nowhere, the guy strong arms me in the chest, stops me dead in my tracks, and says, \"Try.\" I'm all standin' here trying not to lose my cool, and he simply presents me with this weird lookin' inhaler type crap. \"It's called muzzle,\" he says. \"It's new.\"\n\nWhat a damn psycho, I think. I try to brush him aside, and the guy grips onto my shoulder and places his lips onto my ear. His moist breath goin', \"You're looking for a hot, cheap, slutty blonde, I get it. What I'm about to give you is a beautiful virgin redhead. And she's all yours.\" It's like the guy's speakin' my language. I grab the inhaler and take just one puff.\n\nWhat happens next is what happens on a daily occurrence for me now. Everything in the room turns sunny. Not bright like it's hurting your eyes, but your entire surroundings feel warm. Soon after that, it's like time literally slows down... like literally. I can't even describe it, but everything and everyone stops moving. Then, you feel no pain, no despair. Everything is happy. I start walking on what feels like marshmallows for legs, and I scan over all the luxurious furniture and rush slowly to a nice, black leather couch. The moment my bare skin touches the fabric, a million and one sensations rush through my body like a hurricane of donuts and porn stars and White Castle. Next thing I know I'm crying tears of pure joy. I shit you not, I'm crying. I'm so happy on my little leather cloud. I'm looking around me and people, I can tell that they're feeling what I'm feeling. I'm not the only one on muzzle at this party. Holy shit am I happy. Like balls to the wall.\n\n\nNext thing I know, it's three months later, I'm in my apartment, and I can't seem to shake off this stuff. There's only two women that I have ever loved in my twenty-seven years of existence, and neither come even close to how much I adore muzzle. I do anything for it... literally anything... I shit you not.\n\nMy dealer Rodrigo comes every three days and I hand him what little money I make. I haven't had a full meal in almost two weeks. I think yesterday I sat and squirted ketchup in my mouth for dinner. Thing is, he hasn't been for five days. I have been without muzzle for ahlmost twenty sheven hours. This isn't good. The first time I went thish long without it, I was hearing voices. Like sinister voices, ones that I'm hearing right now. They're wizperign words in a booming, deep voice, and later words in a high-pitchzed, screeeaming voice. I cannot for the life of me tell you what the words mean. But... but... Goddamn...\n\nLike I said, I haven't been going this loung without the damn drug, and suddenly things start feeling numb. My arm's maaaaakin' involuhntry movements, smazms... fuggin' shift.\n\nThththe worst that has could happen is Rod issss jailed or sumthin. Then suddly, my brain feels like nails are being driven through it. I'm trying to scream but, nothn coms out. I tttry to put my headn my hands, bbbut I cahunt move'em. It starts getting' hard to breathe. Then suddenly. Nothing.\n\n\nNext thing I know, I become completely conscious again, deep within my own head. I'm lying on my side on the floor, my left arm stretched out in front of me. I'm still in my apartment alone. There's foam dripping out of my mouth, and I've almost certainly pissed myself. Nothing's moving at all... nothings moving, I can't move nothin'. Then... suddenly, the door moves. Some balding, middle aged dude walks in with Rodrigo. They're talking in some nonsensical sounds. I can't tell if it's because my brain is being deprived of oxygen, but I'm almost certain their skin looks purple... like.. I don't know, magenta-ish. The balding dude looks at me, says one more thing to Rod, and walks out. Rod then comes up to me, grabs me by both arms, and drags me out of the apartment. His pure-golden eyes are staring deep into mine. The creep's licking his lips and dragging me down the stairs, then outside into a blaze of spotlights. He's dragging me towards the light.\n\n\nI\"m staring into his eyes, and I'm feeling golden. Absolutely one-hundred percent golden.\n\nEdit: needed to fix my format.", "\"I know you don't just let this shit come in whenever your mule shows up. You're a high service fellow. A man. Who values. The particulars of good business practices.\" I'm smiling as I get up. My gait is not as composed as my voice. Having a shattered femur feels like the top of my leg is a bag of melting ice, slipping all over itself, sliding out of alignment. \"A man of your calibur is as prepared as a mother. Fucking. Boyscout.\" He opens up another ventilation hole, this one in my belly. \"You hab a stash. Here. Wherwe?\" There is no pain. The blood pooling in my stomach and dribbling up my throat only makes me feel like my words are bleeding. \"WHBERE!?\" I am manic. I am levitated from the gravity of myself. My left arm explodes. \"Yoo hab terbibble aim wheb youlr mortifuied.\" I spray at him. All his bullets are safe inside me now. I wave my new knife in his face. My knife is the shard in my arm that used to lead to my hand. I put it in his eye. Just a little. He howls. Just that one little puncture on a non-vital organ. A non-vital organ for which he has a SPARE, and he is willing to give up everything that's important to him. That's what bodily awareness does for you, yeah? But I'm a hypocrite. Somewhere in the howls there was \"furnace.\" Ah the furnace, bright glowing sunshiny furnace! It was right behind me the whole time! I reach my hand into the glowing love, and take a handful of that thick black liquid. I drip drop it into my eye. God how I've missed that good old sizzle pop! \"BRIGHT AND PRICKLY LIKE A ROSE BUSH!!!\" I cackle. Mmmmm I feel that heart squeezing my juices all through my tubes again. Time for the cacophony. The bag of ice is a fucking carnival of broken china dolls. I am Niagara Falls, all crashing water and eroding rock. My rocks are off. My holes are welling up with starlight, and finally, so am I. I turn to my howling friend, letting my infinite needles penetrate me in ways nothing else can penetrate. My smile is a crack on a rock face. \"This is what I was looking for.\" and I stick my head in the firey furnacey sunshiny good.", "You should watch Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. This very issue is relevant to the J'em Hadar as they require Ketracel White to live. It's a drug they are addicted to, that if they withdraw, they'll die terrible deaths.\n\nhttp://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Ketracel-white", "First post. Hope you like it:\n\nThe last dose wore off a while ago and the tips of his fingers were already tingling, signaling the numbness that would follow. Since he first tried it he had only ever gone without the drug for 2 hours, max, and he was now approaching the 4 hour mark. He had only ever heard horror stories of what happens when a user, a junkie like him, ran out of the dope unexpectedly and couldn’t get more in time. Nevertheless, he had always made sure to have an extra stash, an emergency dose, to help stave off the inevitable outcome of withdrawal. \n\nNow it as too late. He was far from home, with no money, and no connections, and to his horror, the withdrawal was happening faster, and more severely, than he had ever considered. He had always assumed it was mythical, as if the users who lived had embellished the real symptoms in order to keep the others hooked, fearful of the unknown, too weak to do anything but succumb to the addiction and inject more of the mysterious drug into their withering bodies. \n\nLike these others, he had tried the usual assortment of so-called ‘gateway’ drugs and never found one that did what this one did. It was inexplicable to the uninitiated, something he would never wish on anyone friend or enemy, but not because of the euphoria, which was like nothing he’d ever experienced, but because of what happened next. Like Heroin it was an immediate rush (the first time anyway) yet the sensation was as if he’d combined all the best highs he’d ever had into one spell-binding, awe-inspiring, god-is-everywhere mind trip that was better than anything he could have ever imagined. \n\nThat was, of course, until it wasn’t. The first time it started to wear off he had a similar sensation. Well, this was unsettling he thought as he prepared the next dose. He wondered if he had done something wrong, or gotten a bad batch. He cursed then as he spilled a bit off the spoon not realizing then it was caused by a side effect he was experiencing now. As soon as he could inject the dose the pain subsided yet the high was muted, not what he expected at all for the second time around. Jeezus, he thought, was this what it was like for everybody? From that point on it was a continual race to stay high.\n\nNow, a mere 6 weeks later, he stood alone, panicked, sweating, his heart beating harder and harder. Was this from the withdrawal he wondered or from the shock realization of what was about to happen to him? What had started as a faint tingle eventually grew into a warm burning ranging from his extremities up his limbs in waves. Every few minutes these waves were intensifying and traveling further into his core. The pain began to intensify and he knew was running out of time. \n\n\nEpilogue: The distant headlights approached slowly, or so it seemed as I lay by the side of the road. I was hanging on, but just barely, after stumbling along for a few hundred yards and my legs giving out when the nerves finally failed. This cursed drug ironically worked from the outside in as it receded from the extremities of the nervous system leaving the senses most intact until the end. It was a wicked trick to play on those unlucky enough to experience it. I watched the lights, could hear it getting closer, but could not move, or cry for help as it rolled by. \n\nWas it stopping? I didn’t know, I was fading, and quickly; thinking again of that first time. Why hadn’t I just brought some more?\n\nEDIT: added spacing between paragraphs for clarity\n", "The blaring sound of a truck outside wakes me up. I take a look at my cell phone to see that its 2:51 PM, which is a little later than normal but it was worth the rager I had last night. If only I can remember how much Proto I had… the headache I’m feeling right now shows that it was probably too much. \n\nWhatever, it was probably great.\n\nWake up time is time for me to get a bump to start my day, probably to go along with some leftover pizza that I could find from last night. I go to my stash and can’t believe what I’m seeing. I had five grams of it yesterday, there’s no way I could’ve taken that much. I mean, I know how much I love Proto but that woulda kllled me. But this crash is too bad, I need some now.\n\nFirst thing I can do is reach for my phone. I miss it… that’s weird. I try again and grab it easily. Let’s just dial up Chip and I’ll have my morning bump in no time. The pause between each ring feels like more and more of an eternity. After living through what feels like five years he finally answers. \n\n“What’s good, man?’’ \n\n“Chip, man, can we meet up ASAP?”\n\n“Dude I’m all out. The whole city is man… nothings coming soon.” Words never sounded worse in my life. I’m feeling a pain in my gut and I can’t even comprehend this shit.\n\n“What the fuck’re you talking about? We met up yesterday!” All of a sudden I’m feeling crushed. I can’t even concentrate. I need this stuff. I just need to stay coherent enough to get some more and I’ll be good. It’s all good man, I’m gonna get some and I’ll be good. \n\nChip starts saying something but I can’t wrap my head around it. \n\nIt’s been five years that I’ve been on Proto and I made sure to never come down. It’s so cheap and so amazing that there was no reason to ever think about it. And Chip always was in good supply and had more than enough at all times. Why be sober when I can function entirely on this drug? What could go wrong?\n\nI still remember going into work regularly and getting by fine. Thanksgiving was nothing – My family was so dysfunctional they didn’t even notice a thing. \n\nI can feel the anger building up in me, but my brain can’t find a way to express it. It feels like I’m trapped in my own body, everything is going numb and everything is breaking down.\n\n“You there Jack? Can you hear me?” I hear coming from somewhere. I wish I knew where. \n\n“AAAHHEELLLPP” I call into nothing. Nothing returns. What happened to my supply? What happened to me? \nChip. I need to talk to Chip.\n\n“Ch-Chip, I-I-I-I n-n-need some-some-SOME!” I yell with all my might, after picking up the phone that I dropped. Wait, when did I drop the phone?\n\n“Dude, I’m telling you I can’t help you. Don’t you remember that huge bust that happened last week? And what the fucks with you? Why’re you talking like a bitch?” He responded coolly. He got it together. I don’t. I feel things unwinding and\n" ]

[ 2, 2, 2, 3, 6 ]

[ "1402632318", "1402633132", "1402634286", "1402632244", "1402626544" ]

[ "Made a PI response here due to a lot of NSFW language: \n\n(http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/285aj5/pi_slightly_nsfw_response_to_on_a_lazy_weekend/)", "Who's the President of the United States?\n\n\"Al Gored\"\n\n**jump**\n\n\"George Lopez\"\n\n**jump**\n\n\"Arnold\"\n\n\n\n**jump**\n\n\"The united states? Where's that?\"\n\nFuck, I'm only getting further away. But what else can I do? I don't know how to jump back.\n\n\n\n**jump**\n\n...\n\n**jump**\n\n...\n\n\n\n**jump**\n\nI'm a couple thousand jumps in, people started looking strange around a hundred jumps in, and only got stranger the further I went. But for the last six jumps no there hasn't been anything. No people, no buildings, only dead trees and purplish grass.\n\n\n\n**jump**\n\n...\n\n**jump**\n\n...\n\n**jump**\n\n...\n\nThere's nothing, world after world of nothing. Several worlds didn't even have a breatheable atmosphere. I can't stop here though, I'd die of starvation.\n\n\n\n**jump**\n\n...\n\n**jump**\n\n....\n\n**jump**\n\n...\n\nI'm running out of breath\n\n\n\n**jump**\n\n\n\n**jump**\n\n\n**jump**\n\nI can't find any world with a breathable atmosphere\n\n\n\n**jump**\n\n\n**jump**\n\n\n**jump**\n" ]

[ 2, 3 ]

[ "1402771336", "1402666412" ]

[ "I know Santa is not reel. I know the eester bunny is not too. You are not reel. Mom told me to say I luve yuo. I dont. Im sory. Sory mom. Mom tels me not to lie. I cant do both of the thing!!! Mabe one day I can baleeve like my famalee. \n\nTo god I gess. From Dylan mom is meen", "Helllo, jesus. \n\nmy name is Joshua and, mom says i have to say sorry but i downt want to. I no you are not reel. Mom says you are but, you arnt and I kno you are not. I no becawse mom says you always anser when i pray. but you dont. Derrick was sick and i prayed and nothing happened. Now my brothers gon and, you are not reel and i dont no were to send this letter.\n\nBaasturd,\n\nJoshua", "Hi god,\n \nI relly think this is stpid, but i have to. I just need to say that ther is no such thing as gold. Everyone talks about it as if it is something specal, and they fight over it, but really it's not that hard to get. I have 2 or 3 diffrnt golds in my colors and they are not pretty. it is not magic lik they thnk and kind of dumb\n \nplz make every one stop fighting for their colors\n\nthank you\n\ntimmy" ]

[ 1, 1, 3 ]

[ "1402779804", "1403403738", "1402766957" ]

[ "We lost communication with our man inside over an hour ago. The underground video game market was notorious for swallowing these young guns whole. Whether they deserted, bit the big one, or never really existed at all, the men inside had a knack for disappearing. Makes sense really. Hell, all we had to identify the guy on was the code-word we sent him. He probably took off hoping the other gangs wouldn't find out he was a snitch. Even if he skipped town, they'd fuck up his family for that. Either way, we're going in.\nThe heavy rain was deafening as it battered the walls of the trailer. The SWAT team was huddled behind giant stacks of boxes, each filled with old video game cases, the discs swapped for blanks of course. \"Weapons hot.\" crackled in our ears, the team leader's whisper magnified by his throat mic. The flurry of clicks and scrapes of metal on metal sent chills down my spine. When I joined the cyber intel unit, they had told us that we would have to be present at crime scenes to identify the informant, but they failed to mention that the crimes could still be in progress. The radio crackled our ears again, \"They're approaching the gate.\". The helicopter, too far off to hear over the rain, was keeping tabs on us, relaying the mission progress back to headquarters. The truck came to a stop, sending a couple of us stumbling. There was some unintelligible yelling outside, then a loud buzzer. The truck began to creep forward again. \"They're in.\", the helo still giving the play-by-play. The plan was simple, a basic trojan horse raid. The informant sets up a deal between the kingpin and a \"supplier\", and we deliver a SWAT team directly into their warehouse. The informant simply has to surrender peacefully, say the code-word, and he's granted immunity. All we have to do is not get shot. Suddenly the rain sounded heavier at the front of the trailer, then moved to the back, and suddenly it was silent. We were inside the warehouse. The truck came to a halt once again. We maintained our footing this time. We heard the the doors to the cab slam shut, and the acting began. \"Dimitri, I presume?\", we heard the buyer ask. We've found that these transactions are easier to pull off if we pretend to be Russian, still not really sure why. \"And my driver, Vlad.\", Det. Winters responded, presumably motioning to Lt. Springfield. \"Do you have the money?\", Winters asked, loudly enough to be picked up on even my mic. He needs to calm down. \"$500,000, yes we have it here, but first we would like to see the merchandise.\", the buyer sounding oblivious to what seemed like obvious acting. \"Of course.\", Winters snapping his fingers. Springfield undid the latches at the other end of the trailer, and light poured in as he slowly opened the doors. We crouched lower, sinking as deeply into the shadows as our bulky vests would allow. He opened one of the boxes, tipping it towards the buyer. As he leaned in to inspect it, we could see that he was a white man, mid-thirties, heavy but not fat, and looked surprisingly unimpressive. He seemed to be dressed plainly, though all I could really see from my vantage point was his blue sweatshirt. He nodded, seeming pleased as he looked up from the open box, scanning the stacks of others that lined the trailer. \"Alright!\", he shouted suddenly, and walked away from the trailer. Springfield and Winters followed, leaving the doors open. We slowly began creeping out from the shadows, toward the back of the trailer. Once the money exchanged hands, the SWAT team would have to neutralize the situation as quickly as possible. \"Give them the money!\" we heard the buyer shout, further away, echoing throughout the warehouse. \"Easy boys.\" growled through radios in our ears, the team leader kneeling near the doors, holding his fist straight up. Even in back, I felt vulnerable, the only one without a sub-machinegun, and I was never even very good with this Glock. \"Thank you, gentlemen, it has truly been a pleasure\", Winters delivered the signal with poetic enthusiasm. Flashbangs flew out of the back of the truck as the entire SWAT team sprang into action, screaming \"POLICE DON\"T MOVE!!\" over and over. Suddenly there was a flurry of gunfire, peppering the thin walls of the trailer behind me. I pushed forward, still the last one out of the truck, and quickly turned and dove behind the double wheels of the trailer. A single shot punctuated the panic accompanied by momentary silence. \"ONE DOWN, THREE BEHIND THOSE FORKLIFTS!!\", gunfire once again being exchanged. I got to my feet and ran to the cab, hoping to avoid any stray bullets. From there I noticed someone huddled by some barrels, not moving, just, hiding. \"GET ON THE GROUND!!! GET ON THE GROUND!!!\", the gunfire stopped long enough to presume the SWAT team was taking the other three into custody. I sprinted toward the figure gun drawn, and shouted \"POLICE PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE EM!!!\". The man, startled, spring to his knees from the fetal position hands in the air, eyes wide with panic. He stuttered,\"I-i-i-it's m-me! I-i-i'm the i-i-informant!\". \"WHAT\"S THE WORD!?!? TELL ME THE WORD!!!!\". He stammered with considerable effort through his now visible tears, \"B-B-B-B-IRD! BIRD! BIRD! BIRD IS THE WORD!!!!\" ", "(Had to post in chunks sorry if this is too long.)\n\nCode.\n\nThe code was everywhere. Tracks of torn napkins with code scrawled on both sides clung to the side of my sweaty ankles as I shuffled out of Watson's shambled bedroom and into the main room where the glittering screens flashed lines of a language more dead than Latin with a heroin overdose buried under a pile of disco records.\n\nIt was hot. My dick was stuck so far up my leg I could have pissed in my own asshole. I untangled my anatomy with one greasy hand as the other fumbled in my pajama pocket for a Shanghai cigarette.\n\nThe meek had inherited the earth. Read some Asimov or Heinlein and you'll get the picture. We all saw it coming, but what was there to do? Digital calculators for math homework had evolved into the government, the corporations, the environment, the trees, the ferns, even the sun, stars, and moon. \n\nThe moon was brandished with a circuit board band-aid the size of Russia with an ironic LED billboard commanding all of Earth to \"OBEY\". The fact that the machine had recognized the sheer tactlessness of its own tyranny was what itched the most. They knew it was fucked up, and they knew we had all seen it coming. And we'd done nothing to stop it. Not until it was too late.\n\n", "Cold rain falls down like lead, and the Constable’s heart is full of dread, \nAnd I caress the handle of the pistol resting in my harness. \nThe night gives us no solace, and the world haunts me in its calmness \nAs we move through the darkened alleys towards our target. \nThe Constable balances her shotgun, ready to provide its violent exclaim. \n\n\n\nThe house appears like any other, and the fence provides adequate cover \nAs we ready ourselves to advance and break down the door. \nThe Constable appears to be uneasy, and her gaze tells that she is queasy \nBut it is too late to leave her here and bring another who is ready more. \nThe others have reached their spots on the far side of our quarry’s solemn domain. \n\n\n\nI send the shivering Constable in first, and her shotgun escorts with its piercing burst \nAnd we pour into the house with our weapons drawn. \nThe lights inside are all so dim, and the darkness threatens an ending grim \nSo I move the Constable close behind me to help her find her brawn. \nThese criminal artists are not nearly above providing traps to wound and maim. \n\n\n\nAs we move on in our deadly sport I hear a pistol’s loud report \nAnd fall sharply to the ground clutching in pain at my chest. \nThe Constable does her grave work, and dispatches my assailant with a smirk \nThen turns to check that I’ve indeed been saved by my vest. \nAs she helps me to my feet she seems almost to feel a sense of shame. \n\n\n\nI struggle nervously to catch my breath, having so narrowly escaped certain death \nAnd I see the Constable trying to hold back confused tears. \nI reassure her that she’s done her part, and I look around at the graphic art, \nThis is where the criminals used levels and characters to exorcize their fears. \nFor all of these groups I’ve infiltrated I still always feel the twinge of shame. \n\n\n\n“Do not shed tears for these men,” I tell these officers time and again. \n“They are the worst and most dangerous of their kind.” \nThe Constable nods rather than assume, and helps investigate the room, \nThough I can understand the feelings that grip her mind. \nIt seems a waste to do such violence over these beautiful, harmless games. \n\nEDIT: formatting\n", "\"Listen up, folks.\" \n\nSergeant Ingham's voice cut the silence in the APC, and we all stood to attention. \n\n\"We've got an estimated ten hostiles at location Alpha. Your job is to sweep and clear. Detain any individuals you find that are unarmed. If you see anyone, and I mean anyone, who might be armed, you put them down without hesitation, do you get me?\" \n\n\"Yes Sir!\" Our resounding shout was deafening. That's how Ingham liked it. Some say he lost his hearing ten raids back, before my time, and that's why he likes it loud. \n\n\"Alright. T-Minus ten.\" He shouted. \"Squad B, you sweep from the first door. Squad A, you're with me. Second door. Marks are going up on your HUD's now. Get into position and remember, do not advance until Delman gives the signal, got it?!\" \n\nAs he tapped his armband a series of holo-glyphs hummed into existence in my vision. They hovered somewhere out beyond the APC, shifting left, right, until centering upon the guttural wind-down of the hydro engine. I felt a lump in my throat descend upon hearing my name. \n\n\"Alright ladies, fall out. First one to get a kill gets a beer on me after the mission.\" \n\nThe APC erupted with movement. My squad, B, rolled out with speed. It was finally time. My first real raid. \n\n\"Lets bag and tag us some sicko's.\" Private Sherman squealed with glee as she switched her MP5 on. \n\n\"Private Delman, you're up.\" \n\nI was the infiltrator this round. On the mission start we all picked our classes, and I was designated the bait. All the good classes were taken, and Ingham liked his teams balanced. My first raid was a real bust. No one had been there. I got to hold a gun and got XP for it nonetheless, but it wasn't satisfying in the least. \n\nIn a metal shirt and shorts, I advanced towards the dimly lit door of Hillside Apartments. Door One. \nOutside stood two men, Caucasian. One had glasses. The other a ball cap. Neither seemed armed. \n\nI swallowed the lump in my throat again. \n\n\"Whats up, fellas?\" \n\nThey folded their arms. They were scrawny and I'm sure I could take them, but I knew the point wasn't to engage. \n\n\"Not much man. You lookin to game?\" \n\n\"Hell yes, brother.\" \n\n\"Check him.\" \n\nA pang of fear chilled my stomach. Glasses patted me down, came up empty. \n\n\"He's clean. Let him in.\" \n\n\"Enjoy the game, brother.\" Ball Cap said. \n\nWith an opening of the rusted door, I was in. Glasses lead me down an old hallway, towards a utility door. I tried to tone down my anticipation. It was palpable. \nIngham said they were all gamers. Intel suggested First Person Shooters, mostly. The worst kind. They were sick, especially FPS types. My mother told me about decades earlier when FPS guys would shoot up schools full of kids, kill their parents, kill everyone. Each one of these freaks was a timebomb. Who knew when they would walk into a mall and kill everyone. I dreamt of the day when I could put a bullet between the eyes of a gamer. Rabid little grease-faced monkeys who just wanted to bite and maim and drink the blood of their victims. They were the monsters that went bump in the night. I clenched my fists as I thought of the Squads ready to pounce. \n\nI hoped they were armed. \n\nEvery single one of them. \n\nAs the door opened, I readied myself for the best night of my life. The mission would succeed. Counter-Terrorists would win. I might even get an achievement for this. \n\nI expected a rancid den full of monsters. Blood on the walls, rot, and stockpiles of ammunition. Cabinets of war games, training sims for their filthy gamer apocalypse. \n\nWhat I saw was a different story. \n\nThey were kids. Some no older than Sixteen. There were a few couches, arranged in a group around a single television. Controllers stemmed from a single console in the center. I squinted as the door closed behind me, and tried to make out the game. In shock I realized I was in the wrong place. The colors were bright, there were fields of green, their characters were solving puzzles and saving animals. These couldn't be the gamers. This had to be a mistake. \n\n\"Have a seat, dude. Want something to drink?\" \n\nI was so shocked I couldn't think of what to say. I trembled at the thought of the automatics waiting outside the door. The hell and damnation ready to descend on these kids. \n\n\"You alright, man?\" \n\n\"Yeah, I'm...I'm fine. Are these the games you guys play?\" \n\n\"Yeah man, it's a classic. Called 'Windwaker.' Personal favorite. Dean's turn right now, next Ian wants to play some Animal Crossing. What games do you want? We have a library.\" \n\n\"What...what about First Person Shooters? Do you have...do you have any of those?\" \n\n\"Nah man, not my thing. Most of us just like adventure games and puzzlers. Besides, First Person games are hard to come by. Most got burned.\" \n\nThis was a mistake. I hadn't signed up for something like this. \n\nI couldn't finish my thought before the door exploded into kindling behind me. Among the cacophony of shrieks and gunshots and armor I managed to see everything. Boots kicked in the screen. Fists connected with young faces. Glasses took a bullet to the face. Before the smoke and noise cleared, the couches were soaked with blood, and five people were dead on the floor. The remaining few cried like babies with kevlar knees in their backs. \n\nAnd I just stood there, staring at the madness. \n\n\"Good work, Delman.\" A firm hand on my shoulder squeezed tight. \"We got these sickos.\" \n\n\"Fucking murderers.\" Sherman taunted, kicking the youngest in the chest. \n\n\"Delman, you'll get an achievement for sure.\" Ingham chuckled. \"You've got a hell of a career ahead of you. You choose your unlocks tonight at home base. Rest up. We've got three more rounds tonight.\" \n", "\"Game over.\"\n\nThat's what officer Cromwell said to me right before we busted open the door of the The Gamer that faithful night. Those words stuck to me like a stone sinking to the bottom of the ocean. \n\nI'd been on The Gamer's trail for months. Thousands of hours were spent reading his every message on the famous website reddot.com. Ever since video games were deemed illegal, its been the go to place for gaming related talk, and there was one person in particular who loved talking all about them. He would brag about his collection of retro consoles and games, and about how he just acquired a rare video game. His name was The Gamer and he just loved playing video games and telling everyone about it. Little did he know I was watching him the entire time. He's been in my sights and I've been waiting on something big before making the jump.\n\nMy patience paid off. He posted about a big order, about a hundred copies of the latest Souls game from a black market distributor in Japan. This was it, I knew I had to act. \n\nIt was 2 a.m. on a quiet family neighborhood. It was me, Cromwell and Logan with backup just a block down the road if anything got too serious. We slowly and silently walked up the stairs of The Gamer's house, got close to the door, and I kneeled down to put my ear against it. I could hear something like knives clambering against each other, soft screams and something like sound effects. I could tell he was playing a video game. I looked over at Cromwell and nodded, and that's when he said it.\n\n\"Game over.\"\n\nI stood up and kicked the door as hard as I could. It flew open and I aimed my gun straight ahead while yelling \"Freeze!\" I couldn't believe what I saw. In between stacks and stacks of video game boxes was what looked like a 9 year old kid sitting in front of a T.V. screen, staring blankly at me. I'd been reading The Gamer's messages for months and never suspected that he could be this young. \n\nAfter what seemed like an eternity of staring at me, he started to get up slowly. I yelled, \"Don't move!\" He was eyeballing something on the ground, I think it was a game controller of some sort. Just then, he darted towards it. \n\nI shot. \n\nI got him right in the chest. He flew back against a stack of game boxes and they scattered across the room. I was in shock. Did I just shoot a kid?\n\nThen I felt a hand grab my shoulder. It was Cromwell. I look at his face and he says, \"Why'd you shoot?!\" in a surprised and upset voice. I look back at the kid lying there. I walk towards him and look down. I can't help but read the game boxes he's lying on.\n\n\"Dark Souls.\" ", "Alright Ladies, listen up! The Boston Special Investigations Unit has fumbled the ball, again. And its up to the V.E.A. to dip our fingers into yet another fuckberry pie these assholes have cooked up.\n\nNow it's too early for your bedtime stories so I'm gonna make this brief! As you know, the russians have been running an underground MMORPG for almost 2 years now. Now we havn't had much chance catching these game bangers in the act, but intel has told us there is a meeting tonight between them and the Yakuza.\n\nThe russian leader is an Igor Glukhov, believed to be former EA. He was linked to a stolen shipment of Wii controllers that had been confiscated by the Washington division last year. We believe he's going to sell them back to the Yakuza in return for a truck load of consoles.\n\nNow I can see from your confused little faces your thinkin \"Gee whiz lieutenant, I spent most of this talk starring at your massive genitals so I might have miss heard you, but why would we give a shit if Igor fucking Vodka fuck gets his hands on some fucking consoles?\" Well allow me to enlighten you like the magestic fucking buddah I am!\n\nIgor Glukhov was one of the last known associates of the Big Cheese. That's right folks I shit you not! Public enemy number 1, Gaben fucking Newell. This lard ass fucker hasn't been seen in public in 5 fucking years. People don't even know if he's alive and with colesteral like that, I wouldn't be fucking surprised. But the Russian will have more info then all of your special units files put together and multiplied by ten!\n\nSo...we have our men on the inside record the deal and when time is right we bust in there and catch these playstation pushing fucks in the act. We do this by the book folks, and if any of you fuck this up and Igor gets off the hook, I will personally plant that gameboy in your desk drawer along with a copy of Kirby's fucking dreamland, and send you down in his place myself! \n\nRight, lets move the fuck out and pull the plug on these fucking nerds. ", "‘You ready, sir?’, the young officer asked.\n\nI nodded my head. Another day, another poor young man that we would put away. \n\nI remembered the days when we would put away real thugs. Drug dealers, mobsters, human traffickers. \n\nThe young officer was excited, psyching himself up. \n\n‘You know what Karl, you lead this bust’ I told him \n\nHe banged loudly on the apartment door. \n\n‘Phillip Fehr, open the door. This is the police. We know you’ve being developing games’\n\nWe heard scurrying inside.\n\nKarl ushered over three other officers. They stepped back a couple of lengths before busting down the door. \n\nThe young man inside was half way towards the window with his computer and keyboard in tow before we tackled him. \n\nI’d put away many like him, young men developing video games with an anti-government message. They were effective, too effective. \n\nWe read him his rights, if he was cooperative he wouldn’t be put away for too long, if he wasn’t, he’d be lobotomised like all the other great artists of our time.\n\nWhat a waste. ", "\"Move in, move in!\"\n\n\"Sniper on the roof!\" I flicked the joystick up and to the left, and slammed my finger on the trigger.\n\n\"Wow, nice headshot.\" Tommy gave me a quick slap on the thigh before jumping back into action. I couldn't help but smile. Having lived with the guy for 2 months now, nothing seemed to bring him out of his head more than Halo. \n\nWhen I had first moved in, the guy had could barely raise his chin to me without bursting into a slew of neurotic ticks and adjustments. I can't imagine how many people he must have scared off. My kid brother was autistic, so I was more used to these bizarre, asocial outburts.\n\n\"Aww man.\" Tommy slouched back into the couch, giving the rotating image a look of malice. \"Lag. I'm going to reset the modem.\"\n\n\"Don't worry, man, I got it.\" I told him, hopping up. \"You want some Coke?\"\n\n\"Mountain Dew, actually.\" He said, pushing his glasses back up his face. \"Please.\" He added, smiling proudly for remembering.\n\nI unplugged the router and began counting to twenty as I moved through the kitchen. My count was interrupted by a voice in my head.\n\n\"Agent Moreland, come in, Moreland.\"\n\nI shot my hand up to my ear, pressing on my cochlear receiver.\n\n\"What is it?\" I asked.\n\n\"Hey Moreland, it's time. Make a quick arrest, we have officers downstairs standing by to escort him to the station.\"\n\nMy stomach twisted. I waited to respond, dropping the ice into the fizzing cups of Mountain Dew. I stepped around the corner to avoid Tommy's earshot.\n\n\"Look,\" I hissed, \"I need more time. I am still trying to work who's supplying. Give me another week.\"\n\n\"No more extentions, Moreland. This is straight from Captain Phillip himself - he says we have all the evidence we need to put this fucker away for a long time. You have your orders.\"\n\nI had known this day was coming, but I had tried to put it out of my mind, figured I could work something out to help Tommy avoid the extended jail sentence. \n\n\"Hey, you plugged back in yet?\" He shouted from the front room.\n\n\"Nah, sorry, Tom, here we go.\" I swept around the corner, plugging the modem back in and placing the sodas on the coffee table.\n\n\"Tommy, not Tom, Tommy.\" He shook a little, correcting me.\n\n\"Right, sorry, I know that.\" I took a deep breath. \"Listen, Tommy.\" He looked up at me, watching my mouth. This was something I remember someone teaching my brother as well. I tried to reconcile how to do this as easily as possible. Tommy shook more violently, and his gaze darted away.\n\n\"Tommy, you know what happens if you get caught with these video games? You can get locked up for a long time.\"\n\n\"I know.\" He mumbled, \"Dad always used to play with me. He told mom I was fun and nice and calm when I played.\"\n\nMy stomach sank to my feet and I chewed the inside of my cheek. The department always pressed their anti-games agenda. These things trained serial killers and criminals. Terrorist simulators.\n\n\"You're taking too long, Moreland,\" came the voice in my ear again.\n\nThere was a heavy knocking at the door. \"Police, open up. We know you have visual/audio contraband in there.\"\n\nTommy yelled, and curled his knees to his chest. He rocked violently, mumbling to himself.\n\n\"No, no, no, no, no, no.\"\n\nI jumped up and began to destroy what evidence of Tommy's collection that I could. The door blew off its hinges and two officers rushed in and threw Tommy to the ground, throwing handcuffs on him as Tommy began to hyperventilate.\n\nAs they picked him up to sweep him out the door, the officer nearest me gave me a pat on the back.\n\n\"Nice work, Moreland, couldn't have bagged this one without you.\"\n\nTommy looked me right in the eyes as the pulled him out the door. Right before he disappeared from sight, one word escaped from his lips:\n\nBetrayal." ]

[ 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 9, 10, 29 ]

[ "1402838390", "1402845188", "1402837139", "1402844636", "1402836104", "1402837837", "1402831314", "1402837042" ]

[ "I've got something kinda similar to that that I'm working on- it's just in novel form. I could post the first three pages to see if you like it though. :D", "^^^Not ^^^really ^^^chaos ^^^but ^^^I ^^^hope ^^^you ^^^enjoy ^^^it ^^^anyway, ^^^I ^^^had ^^^fun ^^^writing ^^^it ^^^but ^^^it's ^^^very ^^^different ^^^from ^^^how ^^^I ^^^normally ^^^write, ^^^so ^^^criticism ^^^would ^^^be ^^^gratefully ^^^accepted.\n-\n\n\"Turn-Yellow Man, saving the day again!\" My son announces as he rushes downstairs, shifting his skin through various shades of yellow as he does.\n\nIt's been this way for about a month now, we've all got these weird abilities. Some are actually useful but most are pretty trivial. About the only use my son has found for his, is attracting flies, although that may be the smell more than the sight of him... he does hate baths.\n\nYeah, it will be five weeks on Thursday that it happened. Some new kind of \"fundamental particle\" at CERN that was being played with. I don't know specifics, ask my friend Gary, he can now get knowledge from books like the Hulk getting lunch money from Batman. Unfortunately, all Gary does now is buy strategy guides for games and proceed to beat said game in a few hours, but none of us really use our powers to do much anyway. Whilst it seems exciting, it's just something else that we have to worry about. I mean, what happens when a truly powerful ability appears?\n\nDespite mocking them, I am glad we have our new \"vigilantes\" (it was bound to happen), as they prevent some of the really insane powers from doing too much harm. There's always the worry though, that one person could overpower the **T**he **I**ncredible **T**roupe (we know, nobody has the heart to tell them though) and cause some serious damage.\n\nUntil then, I'll just while away the hours, listening in on conversations that are happening about 2000 miles away. Of course, like most people (or at least most people I know) I only speak English, so most conversations I hear aren't understandable. Last week though, during *Super-Big Brother*, there was that five minutes of excitement as I got to listen in on someone trying their utmost best to pass some kind of English exam. Unfortunately, the only bit that was really coherent, was the long winded explanation of the different items their pencil case contained, which oddly, did include the kitchen sink. Luckily, earplugs seem to work for super-hearing too.\n\nWhen it first began, it took a lot to convince myself that I wasn't mad. I started hearing unintelligible conversations in Swedish, and when I went looking for the source of these voices, I found my son looking like a sunflower. Some people had it much worse though. Let's just say that quite a few people didn't last long with their new power.\n\nOn the bright side (if you can call it that), I have a new hobby of reading obituaries. Call me what you will, but they have been getting rather interesting. There was one about a person who gained the ability to defy gravity - the family weren't left with much to mourn. And there was another about the woman who developed some kind of super-eating powers. Unfortunately, a dare proved that it wasn't possible to swallow a fly, spider, bird, cat, dog, goat, cow, and horse, all in one sitting. \n\n\nAnd so, though the world may now be a rather dangerous place until CERN manages to fix whatever they've managed to do, at least I can enjoy this break in the mundane, while it lasts. If anything, I think this has helped us all to learn to appreciate things better. Because who knows when the next disaster like this could happen? Not me or Gary, and certainly not Turn-Yellow Man.", "\"For fucks sake Jeff, I don't even know why I'm married to you anymore!\"\n\n\"Sarah, for Christs sake, put the pan down\" Jeff pleaded, moments before the pan whizzed past his face.\n\n\"Why don't you just run off with your whore if you hate it here so much? Huh? Why don't you go back to banging that secretary that is CLEARLY so much more important than your family?\" Sarah grabbed more cutlery and utensils from the kitchen side. They gleamed in her hand.\n\n\"Then why don't you fuck off back to Mars if you hate ME so much? And while you're out to make me into a demon, why don't you take Taren with you?\" Jeff shot a glance over towards his daughters bedroom. The door was ajar.\n\n\"Because I can breathe in space and she can't, you prick. God, it's like you don't even listen anymore. Oh wait, you don't. You just follow that slut Misty around like a lost puppy! What sort of name is Misty? Oh God, I'm being left for a woman named MISTY.\" The words stung and the memories stung more, and Jeff shot his glare to the floor.\n\n\"She goes by Mistress Murder now...\" his words trailed off, the guilt closing his throat involuntarily.\n\n\"Oh that's right! As soon as she got her power she went off with your boss and started killing people. You *sure* know how to pick them, Jeff.\" An explosion rattled the kitchen windows, and Sarah flinched. The explosions grew louder, and were followed by silence. The emptiness from outside was replaced by a man on a megaphone.\n\n\"DO NOT WORRY CITIZENS! LOST SPIRIT IS HERE TO STOP FUTURA. LOCK YOUR DOORS.\"\n\nJeff turned his attention from the floor to his wife.\n\n\"If you think you're so virtuous and special, why don't you join those assholes outside?\" A smug smile splashed across his face, and Sarah responded by lobbing a knife his way.\n\n\"Oh you'd LOVE that. For me to die out there so you finally have a reason to leave and forget about us!\" The voices outside continued.\n\n\"LOST SPIRIT, YOUR FEAR TACTICS WILL NOT WIN OVER THESE PEOPLE. YOU WILL BE STOPPED. I, CAPTAIN SHADE, WILL ENSURE IT.\"\n\n\"Honey, I love you and Taren more than anything in the world.\"\n\n\"Oh, is that why you've not spent any time with her since this all happened?\"\n\n\"SHE'S INVISIBLE, NEITHER OF US HAVE SEEN HER SINCE THIS ALL STARTED!\" The words brought about a shuffling in the farthest kitchen corner.\n\n\"It's... not my fault I can't control my powers... I want to, but I just can't be visible anymore... I'm sorry...\" Taren muttered, fighting back invisible tears as she did so. They splashed on the tiled floor, and dotted where she stood.\n\nSarah rushed over the corner where Taren stood, and reached out into the air to find her daughter. After a moment she seemed satisfied, and hugged an invisible form. The tears continued to drop.\n\n\"Oh honey I'm sorry, I didn't know you were there. Sshh, it's okay, it's not your fault.\"\n\n\"I don't want us to be torn apart. Everything is going to shit, and the last thing I need is to lose my two girls. I love you both. I fucking love you so much.\" Jeff tried to look his daughter in the eye, he wanted so desperately to. He wandered over to Sarah, putting his arm around her and Taren, holding them both. \"It's just so fucked. It's all so...\" Jeff began to cry. He held his girls close.\n\nThe explosions outside resumed. For what seemed a lifetime the sound of two people trading blows echoed through the kitchen, through all their minds. They held each other tightly, hoping the fight outside their walls wouldn't destroy their house like one had destroyed their neighbours days before.\n\nBut the fight eventually found its way to them. The sound of a skull-crunching punch rung out, and several seconds later a man in clock-patterned overalls smashed through Jeff's roof. His cape read FUTURA in bold letters. His entrance destroyed the second floor, and covered everything in plaster dust. Some of the dust landed on Taren, revealing the outline of her form. Sarah shrieked and spluttered, wrapping herself more tightly around her daughter. Jeff approached the crumpled form that had destroyed their house.\n\n\"Are... Are you okay?\" He gingerly stepped forward, extending one hand towards the costumed man.\n\n\"Jeff stop!\" Sarah pleaded, tears streaming down her face, leaving trails through the white plaster dust. But it was too late. Futura jumped up the moment Jeff prodded him. He stared down the family, and smirked.\n\n\"Fresh prey\" he remarked, \"there is no future for you.\" Futura drew the gun at his side, and fired at Jeff. 3 rounds aimed at his chest, but none hit their mark. Jeff's chest hardened and turned to marble upon impact, deflecting the shots. \n\nFutura's smirk dropped, and continued to drop as his face was smashed to pieces by marble fists. Jeff only stopped when there was nothing left of the smile.\n\n\"Oh God Jeff\" Sarah sobbed, staring directly into his steely eyes. In her arms was their daughter, visible once more and with a bullet hole in her chest. Not all the shots had missed. Jeff ran over.\n\n\"Oh baby no, God please why? Oh God. Oh no. Please, please no.\" Sarah cradled her daughters dying form. Her blood pooled around them, and soaked their trousers and shoes. Through the hole in the roof another costumed figure flew down.\n\n\"Do no worry citizens, Captain Shade is here to- oh fuck.\" He glanced down at the corpse of Futura, and the bloodied body of the 14 year old in the corner, surrounded by her parents. Taren opened her mouth for the last time.\n\n\"Mum... Dad... p-please stop... fighting... you're heroes... you're *my* heroes... heroes d-d-d-don't fight each other...\" \n\nShe went limp in her parents arms, and nothing was ever really the same after that day. ", "\"Jinx!\"\n\nThe young woman laughed after uttering the familiar word. She'd always been fascinated by the game as a kid. Say the same word at the same time, and the first person to call out \"jinx\" could silence the other person until someone said their name.\n\nAt first, she'd been bitter about the power. Why not immortality? Or super-healing like Wolverine, or Deadpool? But the power to make people mute until their name was uttered had proved to be more effective than she'd thought it would be.\n\nTake this fratbro, for instance. He'd been able to make people vomit by saying the word \"weaksauce\". It'd been a simple matter of following behind him, and muttering \"weaksauce\" under her breath, until she'd got the timing right.\n\nThis was just a small victory, though. Everything was quickly turning to shit.\n\nIt was exactly three days since whatever had happened, had happened. The first day and a half had wiped out a significant amount of people, as far as she could tell. She'd been unfortunate enough to be in the city where some asshole got the power to explode without being harmed. It had taken a team of someone being able to turn people blind while maintaining eye contact with them, someone able to create rope traps out of thin air, and someone with the guts to actually kill someone else to take that asshole down.\n\nUnfortunately for the would-be heroes, the exploding asshole had been standing next to someone whose power was to make other people's powers manifest themselves when they died. The whole thing had turned out to be more or less of a wash, but at least the exploding asshole was gone now.\n\nAs she surveyed the street in front of her, she noticed something odd in the display window of a computer store. A monitor had turned itself on, and the picture of a vaguely familiar girl appeared on it. Once the picture had solidifed, the monitor turned itself inside out, and suddenly the girl was standing inside the shop. Huh.\n\nThat was useful. Travelling over tv waves? Through wiring? Maybe over the internet?\n\nWhile she wouldn't have minded that kind of power, she'd still not gotten the shortest end of the stick. With billions of people suddenly getting unique powers, some had been hilarious. Some had been awful. She'd seen a man turn himself inside out...Unfortunately, his power had not covered being able to survive that. \n\nWhile pondering her next move, a blast of sound and fury caught her attention.\n\n\"Oh God..\"\n\nIn the distance, a mushroom cloud was forming.\n\nBefore she had time to react, the shockwave had thrown her body - along with whoever else was close by - like so many ragdolls." ]

[ 2, 2, 3, 4 ]

[ "1402868547", "1402878888", "1402870429", "1402866619" ]

[ "\"Dinnertime! Come get it!\"\n\nThe call from my mom for dinner was welcome. I put down my pen and paper, marked my place in the book in front of me, and stood up.\n\nI pushed myself away from my desk, looking at the clutter in front of me. Something at the back of my mind was complaining. Had I forgotten to mark my place in the book? I double checked to find that I hadn't forgotten.\n\nBefore I'd made it to my door, mom had called for me again. She was sounding uncharacteristically impatient with me. She'd usually make fun of my tardiness if I was especially late for something, or especially slow. I shook my head, wondering what I could have done to annoy her into this impatient outburst.\n\nI was halfway down the stairs when the voice floated down from above, from what sounded like the vicinity of the hallway closet.\n\n\"Don't go downstairs, kid. That's not your mom.\"\n\nThe voice gave me pause. There *was* something odd about the impatience mom's voice had been filled with. While I stood there, mouth agape, in the middle of the staircase, my mom's voice boomed again. \n\n\"Dinner, you little shit! Am I going to have to tell you *again*?\n\n\"Better hurry back up here, kiddo. She's not allowed up here.\"\n\nThe voice from the closet didn't make sense. Not allowed? This was *her* house, after all. \n\nSuddenly, I noticed the lighting coming in from the kitchen to the downstairs hallway. Had it always had that orange shimmer to it? Had I ever seen the shadow of my mom looming from there?\n\n\"Hurry, kiddo. The staircase ain't safe.\"\n\nThe voice had gained quite a measure of urgency. Mixed with the odd, oppressive shadow and uncharacteristic anger coming from my mom, I was almost at the top again before I knew I had decided to run for it.\n\nThinking to myself that this had to be a dream of some sort, I tried to get my pulse under control. That strange voice made a mockery of my internal monologue, however.\n\n\"This ain't a dream, kiddo. Not exactly.\"\n\n\"What the hell *is* it, then?\"\n\nMy own feelings of confusion and fear were seeping into my voice. If I had thought more clearly at the time, I might have been amused by the fact that my voice sounded more angry than scared.\n\n\"I can't tell you. I can only say that you have to find your way out of here on your own.\"\n\n\"*That is IT, young man...\"*\n\nThe sound of what the voice had claimed wasn't my mom stomping down the hallway suddenly stopped. A whimper escaped my throat. \n\n\"Uhm, hello? Are you SURE you can't help me out here? You said the staircase ain't safe?\"\n\n------------------------\n\n\"Staircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafe\nStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafe\nStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafe\nStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafe...\"\n\nThe woman was eyeing her husband nervously while the phone rang. Just as she was beginning to fear nobody would pick up the phone on the other end, someone picked up the phone.\n\n\"This is 911, what is your emergency?\"\n\nThe woman plugged the ear that wasn't covered by her phone to drown out the unsettling sounds coming from her otherwise catatonic-looking husband, and started talking.\n\n\"Uhm, hello, yes. I need some help. I think my husband has, uhm...Had some sort of mental break? So, uhm...Could you send, like, an ambulance or something?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss.\"\n\nThe young woman perked up, and started to complain.\n\n\"Please. You have to get out of that room. That's not your husband.\"", "\"Coming!\" \n\nEdward was just getting up when he heard a thin, scared voice coming from his closet. \n\n\"Don't go, that's not your mom.\"\n\nHis first instincts were to run away, but something held him back. He knew that voice. \n\nEdward swallowed the painful lump that formed in his throat and slowly advanced towards his closet. He opened the door and was met with no resistance. And inside, half hidden in the shadows, a little boy about his age stared at him. It took Edward a long time to recognise himself under the boy's bruised and swollen face. \n\n\"Don't go,\" he said again. \"That's not your mom. It's mine.\"\n\n\n------\n\n-161\n\n" ]

[ 3, 7 ]

[ "1402877164", "1402877136" ]

[ "His eyes slowly adjusted to the harsh light of dawn. It seemed like an eternity since he had walked on the earth, and it had changed drastically. \n\n“The last human, eh?” He mumbled to himself. A rusted out sign to his left said Akron OHIO. He was in the right place. Last time he had been in Akron was for a business meeting and the building didn't reach into the clouds back then. As he walked towards his destination he couldn't help but notice how quickly the achievements of mankind crumbled in the face of mother nature. Everywhere he looked he could see the building and vehicles that already were wrapped in vines and covered in moss. \n\nHe still remembered when it started. At first they thought it a war, but after days and days of endless souls pouring in they knew what was happening. The end had come. It took the women, all the women, and it came fast. Three weeks after it began every female on the planet had perished. Panic and grief erupted in violence and soon a mere tithe of men remained. The last of them dying today. \nHe sees the old man sitting on a park bench, and is reminded of his father. The look on his face, too stubborn to die. This man survived the apocalypse, the famine, the roving bandits, but everyone’s time comes eventually.\n\n“Shit.” He spits as he notices the other harbinger. “Why did they have to send you?”\n\nThe other man smirks. “I'm the best.”\n\nAnd he was. Not the best ever of course, but the better of the two. Wasn't he? A mix of emotions boiled inside. This man was once his best friend, and always beat him at everything. Then however the woman, Megan, entered the picture and everything changed. The man's entire personality changed and they drifted apart. Not only where they separated in life, but they became separated in death. He wondered if they could ever reconcile. No! He had to focus. There was a mission, the most important mission. The last soul.\n\n“He is coming with me.” The other man says.\n\n“Not a chance. You know all he has done, he must come with me.”\n\n“I do know all he has done. That’s why you don't get him.”\nCould he fight his old friend if he had to? More importantly could he win? He must, this is the last soul, and spending eternity as a failure is not an option. Looking at the other man he sighs.\n\n“This is not how I wanted to spend my last visit to earth you know.”\n\n“Me either.”\n\nThe old man exhales one last time.\n", "Dust swirled in the breeze, flapping the ends of Abalam's wool trenchcoat. He could have picked any form for his trip, but always opted for a slickly-dressed dressed human male with slightly effeminate features and slicked black hair.\n\nAbalam stood, back straight and hands in his coat pockets, maintaining his vigil outside the bunker door. The occupant had to leave some time - their supplies weren't infinite. But Abalam didn't know. The human might leave in five days, or maybe five years. Or maybe they'd die in there. No matter the outcome, it wasn't a long wait for a being who had existed before time was created.\n\nIt was the first time he'd been on Earth's surface alone in all of it's existence. The empty cities and no background noise from human industry made the place serene - maybe he'd come back after his business was concluded and take some time enjoying the simpler things. He could play archeologist instead of philosopher for once, and have the thrill of learning new things for the first time in centuries.\n\nFeet crunched the gravel behind Abalam, and he stiffened at the noise. The last human on Earth was in the bunker, so he knew it wasn't them approaching. He turned around, and his stern demeanor was broken by laughter.\n\n\"Goddamn, you people do not let up,\" Abalam said through his laughter. The being before him was almost ten feet tall, with shoulder pads that spanned dozens of feet in each direction. In its hands it clutched the handle of the most ornate sledgehammer Abalam had ever seen. Otherwise it looked like a bald human, save for it's beady black eyes.\n\n\"DO NOT TAKE THE LORD'S NAME IN VAIN,\" the angel said. As he spoke, tongues of fire swirled from his mouth. Abalam had to stifle another fit of laughter at the display.\n\n\"What's He going to do, send me to hell?\" Abalam asked, grinning. \"Where's your partner, Nakir? Never seen you two separated before.\"\n\n\"MUNKAR IS INDISPOSED,\" Nakir responded. Given their roles, Abalam didn't know what to make of that. In English, Munkar and Nakir were called the Denied and the Denier, their sole purpose to torture the belief of God into people by a combination of classic psychological teardown and rebuilding and a lot of encouragement from their hammers.\n\n\"Curious he shouldn't be here. Once the last human is gone, you two are out of jobs,\" Abalam said.\n\n\"YOUR PROBLEM IS ALWAYS OVERTHINKING. ALWAYS WANTING TO KNOW. ALWAYS ASKING QUESTIONS ABOUT THE WORLD AROUND YOU. I DO NOT ANSWER TO YOU,\" Nakir said. The sustained rumble of his voice shook Abalam's chest.\n\n\"I don't know why they chose you for this. The idea that you can give the human any kind of rational argument to join your ranks looking like that and burping flame when you talk is absurd,\" Abalam said.\n\n\"I HAVE NO PHILOSOPHICAL ARGUMENT TO PRESENT. SMASH THE DOOR. ASK MY QUESTIONS. GET THEM TO ADMIT GOD'S GLORY OR PUNISH THEM UNTIL THEY DO,\" Nakir said.\n\n\"I bet you're not even going to take the Fridays off for it,\" Abalam said wryly.\n\n\"THE SABBATH BELONGS TO THE LORD. BESIDES, I GOT TIME,\" Nakir said.\n\n\"You've always been such a simple creature. If you go on your course of action you deny their free will,\" Abalam said.\n\n\"HUMANS ARE GIVEN FREE WILL SO WHEN THEY MAKE THE CHOICE TO SERVE GOD, IT IS MEANINGFUL. THEY ARE ALREADY AN AGNOSTIC, THEIR LEAP TO FULL FAITH WILL BE SHORT. THEIR FREE WILL LEADS TO EVIL,\" Nakir said.\n\n“I can find you a despicable religious man as easily as I can find you a heroic atheist. Yet God designed a system that punishes those that don't believe in him and rewards those who do. He denies the humans knowledge because He is terrified they won't believe if they know how the world works,” Abalam said. As he talked, he walked closer to Nakir, and Nakir kept tightening and relaxing the grip on the shaft of his hammer.\n\n“THE HUMANS ARE NOT RESPONISBLE ENOUGH TO DO WISE THINGS WITH THEIR KNOWLEDGE. GOD FLOODED THEM FOR IT BUT HIS LOVE OF THEM MADE HIM TOO MERCIFUL,” Nakir said.\n\n“The self-driving car and cure for AIDS are truly an affront to a loving God,” Abalam said.\n\n“YOU JOKE. YOU DO NOT RECOGNIZE GOD'S GLORY. MAYBE I SHOULD MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND,” Nakir said.\n\n“Your job is to put belief in living people. I know God exists, I just don't agree with Him,” Abalam said. “Why don't you take a normal form and we can talk to the human together, let her make up her own mind.”\n\n“HOW ABOUT I SMASH YOU THEN SMASH THE DOOR,” Nakir said, the fire curling out of his mouth.\n\n“I don't see you swinging that big hammer ending well once I call my legions,” Abalam growled. “But I see I'm trying to appeal to logic where their is none. You're designed to reject all logic with fervor.”\n\n“EDUCATION IS ANETHEMA TO FAITH,” Nakir said.\n\n“We have a winner,” Abalam said. “What's your stake in all this? It's just one more soul. Most of the humans are in hell already, and this isn't one of the faithful.”\n\n“YOU AND I HAVE THE SAME STAKE,” Nakir said. “THIS IS THE LAST HUMAN SOUL. COLLECTING IT IS A MATTER OF PRIDE.”\n\n“I thought pride was something we dealt in more downstairs,” Abalam said.\n\n“PRIDE IS ONLY A SIN FOR HUMANS.”\n\n“So is hitting someone with a hammer until they agree with you, I suppose.”\n\n“IN ORDER FOR YOUR SIDE TO GAIN A SOUL, NOTHING NEEDS TO HAPPEN – EITHER AN ABSENCE OF BELIEF FROM IGNORANCE OR A REJECTION OF BELIEF. I HAVE BEEN SENT TO ENFORCE BELIEF.”\n\n“So we have the truth of it,” Abalam said. “Their soul is ours unless you do something about it. But we both already knew that. If you were analytical, the question you should be asking yourself is why am I here if the assumption on our end is our already have it? Could it be we knew your side would pull a trick like this and I'm here to stop you?”\n\n“YOU WILL STAND ASIDE OR FEEL MY HAMMER,” Nakir bellowed, the flames from his mouth licking at the edge of Abalam's coat.\n\n“I told you that's a bad idea. I'd get my legions up here, you'd call some of your buddies, and the last human will have a war outside their doorstep,” Abalam said.\n\n“SO WHAT WILL YOU DO?” Nakir asked.\n\n“What will we do? We'll wait. Either they open that door and we discuss things, or they die in there. A human's free will should decide their fate.”\n\n“RELYING ON HUMAN FREE WILL STACKS THE ODDS IN YOUR FAVOR.”\n\n“I know. It's almost like they were designed to weigh evidence using rational thought,” Abalam said, smiling. He turned back towards the door and resumed his wait.", "Ok, This is my first short since high school, so I am very rusty with the spelling and the grammar, but here it goes:\n\n\n\nAs the Angel descended to earth, he passed through clouds thick with dust and ash, rank with decay. Below he could see a large sprawling city. A testament to the achievements of man, now empty and lifeless as Armageddon dropped it's final curtain. One soul left to come Home.\n\nOut of the corner of his eye, he sees the flash of \"blacklight\" from Hell between two building. No, this wasn't going to be easy was it? The last human soul will finally bring an end to 1000 years of war. 1000 year of suffering. The last human soul that will bring down final judgment on the denizens of Hell. \n\nAs he approached his destination, he wondered who his opponent would be. Surely Lucifer would be sending his strongest warrior to collect this soul. He understands the importance of this soul. What it will mean for him if brought to Heaven. He knows he has to have it.\n\nHis boots make a soft scraping sound as he touches down and begins to walk towards the building. The building seemingly as empty as the rest, but almost seemed to stand out as well, as if beaming with pride of it's sole occupant. \n\nFar off to the right he sees his opponent approaching. He tries to hide his surprise as he recognizes Curiel. How many millennia have passed since his fall? Far too many to count. It was one of the saddest days in his existence. His brother, friend, companion... turned his back on God and Heaven, preferring to follow Lucifer in his uprising. \n\nHonestly, it was all pretty stupid. Lucifer had been tasked with processing the newly departed before they entered Heaven. At first, it was fairly easy. But as the earth's population grew, so did the number of souls needing processing. It had to be stressful. Maybe Lucifer snapped under the strain, maybe it was his ego growing to big after billions of souls mistake him for our Lord when they first cross over. Either way, he rebelled, saying he could do a better job. He was very persuasive in his case, but the Angel knew he was wrong. Why didn't Curiel see that? Even after all this time, it still breaks his heart.\n\n\"Michael? Thought it was you. Still working for the Tyrant?\" A slight hiss in the demon's voice.\n\n\"Shut your mouth, Curiel. You never did see the Truth very clearly.\"\n\n\"Truth?\" the demon asked in mock surprise, \"there are many versions of Truth, my friend. That's something you could never see.\"\n\n\"Not this again...\", Michael began.\n\n\"Why is it so hard to believe? You actually see it ALL THE TIME! We were not then, not now, and never will be free to make our own choices. Free will is a MYTH! We were created to serve, nothing more.\"\n\n“If free will is a Myth, then you are saying that you didn't choose to follow Lucifer, and Lucifer rebelling was all part of His plan? Hell has made you delusional, Curiel.\" Michael countered.\n\n\"That is exactly what I am saying!\"\n\n\"Well, if there is no free will, then you will have no problem stepping aside and letting me take this soul home, since you know that will be the end result either way.\"\n\n\"I said we were made to serve. I am here to fight for that soul, doing as I was told to do. You know what is at stake.\" \n\n\"You just contradicted yourself. If there is no free will, and this is all part of His grand plan, then you have no chance in winning. This is it, the end of all things, and the elevation of Heaven.\"\n\n\"Only if you defeat me. And how do you know that this is not part of His plan? What if that soul is supposed to go to Hell as part of His grand design? Neither of us can fathom why He would allow such a thing, but we are also not equipped to understand all that He does.\"\n\n\"That's the most logical thing you have ever said, even if it is completely absurd. If the soul was supposed to go to Hell, why send me to retrieve it?\" Michael, getting slightly annoyed at this point. \"I know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to work.\"\n\nCuriel's eyebrows raised almost to his horns, \"what do you mean? Wait… you don't think I am trying to convert you to Lucifer's side, do you? No, sorry my friend. That ship sailed long ago. You made your choice abundantly clear when you sent me over the side.\"\n\n\"You know I had no choice in the matter.\"\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\n\"So\", Michael growing a little impatient, \"are we going to fight now?\"\n\n\"If that is what you want. Or we can sit here and talk some more. I find your blind devotion even more fascinating now than I did back then.\"\n\n\"When the Creator of All tells you to do something, you don't hesitate, you don't question, you simply do.\" Michael's agitation is growing by the second.\n\n\"And What if He is not the Creator of All?\"\n\n\"BLASPHEMY!!\" \n\n\"But how do you know? It's because He told you. You have no other way of knowing anything beyond what He shows you. What if there is something more? \n\nMichael stands silent, his hands balled into tight fists trembling at his sides.\n\n\"What if I could show you?\"\n", "Andrew sat in the corner of what remained of his home. The once beautiful, rancher style house now just a burnt husk. He didn't speak. He didn't cry. He didn't move. He just stared at what had once been his living room. It was gone. They were gone. *Why me? Why only me?* This question raced through his mind. As Andrew considered simply ending his life, or getting up in search of food, there was a loud thud noise from what was left of his front door.\n\nThe sound jarred Andrew out of his catatonic stupor. It couldn't be a survivor, could it. He brushed himself off and started for the door. As he was reaching for the knob, he hesitated. *I should get a weapon.* Andrew knelt down and grabbed a sizable piece of wood to fight off any unwanted \"guests\".\n\n\"Wh-wh-whos there?\", He stammered at the closed door. No response. *Oh God! Did I take too long? Have they gone? What if I imagined it?* Andrew shook off his paranoia and flung the door open...\n\n**Outside of Andrew's Home**\n\nA solitary beam of light split the clouds, bathing the ground in golden splendor. A beautiful woman in a white, flowing gown stepped forth from the beam - her very foot steps causing grass and flowers to bloom on the now scorched planet. A tear fell from her sapphire eyes. Though this was not her hometown, she remembered how the Earth had looked before the end had come. She knew why she was here. She was instructed by God to claim Andrew Everret's soul for heaven. \n\nAs she stepped closer to the burnt out domicile, there was a grumbling noise from the ground behind her. She turned around just in time to see the ground split open. A black ichor spewed from the fissure and from pool rose a being. As it took form she could see that it was a man, or what used to be a man. His skin was a pale grey and his eyes were empty pits as dark as the wretch he grew from. On the side of his head was a wound that could only have come from a gun.\n\nHe coughed and choked out the rest of the slime as he gained his composure. He started toward the structure with a look of regret and anger painted on his face. \"Move Seraphim!\", he barked in a voice like broken glass in a blender.\n\n\"I will not! This soul is meant for heaven not the pits! I will not allow you to...\"\n\nHer voice shrank back as she studied the demon more carefully. He too shifted in appearance. His once enraged visage gave way to a look of surprise and fear. The demon fell to his knees. \"Allison,\" he growled, \"Is it....is it really you?\"\n\nThe angel began to weep. She could not respond. Her hands covered her mouth as she nodded. After what felt like an eternity she replied, \"Yes David. It's me. What happened to you my love?\"\n\nThe fallen creature turned away as streams of black flowed from his eyes. He shook as he spoke, still facing away from his former I love, \"I tried to move on after the accident. I knew that even in death you would want what is best for me...but...but I just couldn't.\" He turned to face her. \"I couldn't live without you sweetheart.\"\n\n\"Oh David no,\" She cried not knowing what else to say. She opened her arms and beckoned the lost part of herself to her. David wiped away his tenebrous tears and fell into the arms of his love. Upon their embrace, a force obliterated them both sending a shock through the air and into Andrew's home - never to return to heaven; never to return to hell; never to exist in this world, the next, or the next. All that remained was a single pile of ash . At least in oblivion, they were once again together. The wind picked up and lifted their remains into the air.\n\n**Back inside Andrew's house**\n\nAndrew stared hopelessly at the vacant scene outside his home. There was nothing. It was all in his head. All he could see was the burnt out town and some dust blowing past his door...", "The stone hut had somehow survived a nuclear war and seventy separate judgments from Heaven with nothing more than minor cosmetic damage: a few scorch marks, one or two smaller stones dislodged from meteor impacts, but still standing strong. As for looters, it was so far out in the desert that most travelers would have died of heat exhaustion, thirst, starvation or sheer madness by the time they made it out there, and the concept of a return trip with extra weight would have fried the few remaining brain cells of any lunatic who actually survived the first one. Adam Geller had chosen his home well when he could no longer tolerate the rest of humanity. \n\nIronically, he was unaware that humanity was no longer a problem.\n\n****\n\nHalf a kilometer from Adam's home, in a curvy patch of dunes whose troughs were practically filled by animal's bones, a small cloud of fire the color of oil slick on a pavement opened out of thin air and disappeared just as quickly. A woman, wearing a sheer gray dress that told the imagination its role in the matter was redundant, stepped barefoot on the sand and began to follow the light. Her tracks turned to glass as she stepped away; she'd have liked to take credit for the trick, but it was the physics of heat and sand, pure and simple.\n\nPerched on the furthest corner of the hut, a ball of light the size of a bean bag pulsed brighter and dimmer. A figure strobed in and out of view--feminine, one might say Rubenesque, kneeling in position. \n\n\"Neat trick,\" the woman from the dunes said sarcastically. \"When did Heaven install the dimmer switches?\" \n\nThe light faded, leaving Adam's patch of desert almost completely dark. Years ago, star- and moonlight would have lit the area, but the stars and moon had been destroyed in a great battle. Nonetheless, the woman from the dunes could see the kneeling figure like it was daytime. She thought it might be the last time she'd ever be surprised, depending on how the night went. \n\n The woman from the rooftop jumped from a kneeling position, arched in the air, and landed exactly one meter away from the woman from the dunes. Any onlookers wouldn't have seen a moment where she'd actually stretched her legs and exerted effort to rise; there hadn't been one. \n\n\"Serious question: Have you ever wondered how humans don't notice all this shit we do? The lights, the phenomena, all right in front of their faces? Dude should have noticed the first nighttime light in years, and yet he's sleeping like a baby.\"\n\nThe woman from the rooftop didn't acknowledge the question. \"You need to leave.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you wanna write me a permission slip? I'm sure the boss is gonna love that. 'I hereby give your servant permission to fail to acquire the last soul on Earth. Now pinky-swear you won't torture her for however long any of us have left to exist. Signed, Heaven.' Fuck off.\"\n\nThe woman from the rooftop showed no emotion, but neither did she rise to the bait. They stared defiantly at each other for a moment before the woman from the dunes began to laugh. \"Seriously, they chose well. You're the only one I wouldn't kill on sight.\"\n\n\"Nobody chose me. I came because I knew they'd send you.\"\n\n\"That a fact? Well, it's been nice chatting with you, but I believe I'm owed a soul.\" \n\nThe woman from the rooftop held up a hand. \"I can't let you do that, and you know it.\"\n\n\"What are you going to do? Kill me? Send me to Hell? I already went to Hell, remember? Hey, do you know how long the fall actually lasts? It is literally, to the second, the EXACT amount of time you spent being happy pre-damnation. I bet you haven't forgotten how long that was for me.\"\n\nShe hadn't; the concept of falling through the celestial equivalent of broken glass and shit and fire for seven years did not appeal to the woman from the rooftop. The concept made her turn her face from the woman from the dunes.\n\n\"You know, I see all this human media about sacrificing yourself for love means automatic redemption, but Heaven's sense of justice has nothing to do with sacrifice, does it? I turned away, just like you're doing now, when I knew you sympathized with him. It killed me to know you hid it from me, but I never reported you. And when Michael showed up at our cloud, knowing that Lucifer had been sighted there, it didn't occur to me not to say I'd done it. But has God ever spared me a second of torment for trying to save the woman I loved? I doubt He even noticed my absence in the court. Did you?\"\n\nTears splashed down the woman from the rooftop's cheeks; they made the sound of a waterfall cascading to the ocean. The woman from the dunes scowled at the effect. \"Fucking physics,\" she thought to herself. \n\nFinally, the woman from the rooftop looked up. \"I...I must take my leave. I return to Heaven to give my full confession. In my absence, I hope you'll take this man's soul to your boss. Consider it a reparation for the soul I didn't save. And...I'm sorry.\" \n\nThe woman from the dunes was suddenly alone. She smiled as she walked into the stone hut.", "The earth cracked open, and a spiral of hellfire erupted from the ground. A clawed hand reaches up, grabbing the ledge and hoisting himself up from the depth of the Earth. He was a demon from hell, boasting great horns and crimson skin. His serpentine eyes darted to and fro, searching for the target soul his lord had sent him to acquire. The survivor of the Apocalypse had done as well as he could have given the circumstances, but he was weakening and his time had finally come. His eyes didn't fail him, he located the shelter and made for it, effortlessly leaping the distance with his powerful legs. Just as he reached to tear the makeshift door off it's hinges, a bright light interrupted the motion. Recoiling, the demon squinted and cursed, realizing that an Angel had come from the world above to claim the soul as well. Well, he would not fail his lord- the punishment was too great. \n\n\"Whoa. Jim? Is that you?\" Came the heavenly voice. The demon froze in shock. How did it know his mortal-life's name? Squinting past the glowing aura that surrounded the angel, He realized why the angel knew his name.\n\n\"Karen? Karen from Accounting?!\" He exclaimed, recognizing the female Angel instantly from his workplace when he was still a mortal.\n\n\"Jim from Legal! It really is you! It's been centuries!\" The Angel gushed, rushing to hug Jim the Demon. Jim hugged awkwardly back, not knowing exactly why or how she was so comfortable with socializing with demons as an angel. Pulling away, Karen examined him for a moment. \"Those horns really fit you.\" She commented, smiling a radiant smile that only angels could.\n\n\"Wh- Karen, it's been a while, and it's cool to see you again and everything, but aren't you the least bit put off that I'm a demon and you're an angel?\" Jim asked, his head reeling. Sure, he had seen some of his co-workers in Hell and he assumed the rest were in Heaven, but this was a whole different story.\n\n\"Not really, Heaven has been really progressive, Jim. Lots of 'Demon Acceptance and Education' seminars going around. Things have really changed. Anything like that in Hell?\" She jabbered.\n\n\"Uh, not really. Just burning the souls of the damned for eternity, really.\" \n\n\"You need to get some reforms going, Jim. Hell is so old-school, I'm betting. I bet there's still gates at the entrance-- we replaced ours with automated doors!\"\n\n\"Well, maybe we *should* replace those rusty, charred old ga-- Okay hold on a second.\" Jim said, refusing to be drawn into this conversation, \"Sorry to be the spoilsport Karen, but I have a job to do and I have to claim that soul over there. It's been great meeting you and all but Lord Satan really doesn't like to wait.\"\n\n\"Hey! That's my job too!\" Karen said, grabbing my shoulder as I turned for the door once more.\n\n\"Karen, please. I don't know about Heaven, but Lord Satan hates it when people fail, and the punishments hurt. Can't you let this one go?\" He asked irritably, not looking forward to getting my liver eaten repeatedly by Cerebus again.\n\n\"Not this time! I'm haven't let anything go ever since I let you go!\" Karen declared. Jim, who had turned to the door again, froze. \n\n\"Wh- I you wait... what?\" Jim spluttered, whirling back to Karen, who had an uncharacteristically teary pout on her face.\n\n\"I worked with you for five years before you got married, Jim. For those five years I sat there hoping that I would either work up the courage to talk to you more, or that you would ask me out.\" Karen said, her cheery countenance crumbling. \n\n\"You... You liked me?\" Jim asked, completely dumbfounded.\n\n\"I loved you, Jim. It killed me when you announced you were getting married.\" Karen said. \n\n\"I... well... I actually liked you too, Karen. I just always thought you had someone else. You, uh, you were always so cheerful and happy. It made me happy talking to you.\" Jim said. It had been hundreds of years since he's had to deal with petty mortal emotional stuff like this. Karen wiped a single tear from her eye and went back in for a fierce hug. For a while, they just stood there embracing each other before finally breaking away. Both of them cast absent glances at the shelter, before looking back at each other.\n\n\"Well, what now?\" asked Jim.", "Apart from the dust blowing through the air, nothing moved. Flames flickered in the distance, but other than that, everything was dark. The sun hadn’t managed to fight through the thick clouds for months. In the middle of this wasteland stood a hut, cobbled together from lumps of wood and sheets of metal that by now were mostly rust. \n\tThere was a flash of blinding light, and the sound of a choir singing in Latin. When the light faded away, there was a figure standing in the ashes, a figure clothed entirely in white, with enormous white wings. \n\tHe glanced down at the dirt already covering his white brogues and scowled. Taking a deep breath, he set off towards the hut. \n\tA rumble sounded behind him. If the figure had turned round, he would have seen the earth open up. An ugly, blood-red light shone out of. As people screamed and howled far below, a gnarled hand reached out of the crack, and a creature in rags pulled themselves up into the open air. \n\tThe creature giggled and rolled around in the dirt for a few seconds, before shivering. He wasn’t used to being out of the heat. Looking around, he saw the figure in white, rapidly approaching the hut. He dropped to all fours and raced to catch up with the angel. \n\t“Oi!” he called. \n\tThe angel ignored him.\t \n\t“Gabriel, right?” \n\tGabriel spun round. “What?” \n\t“Just wanted to say hi.” \n\t“Excellent. Sorry,” Gabriel said, gesturing to the nearby hut, “but I’m kind of in the middle of something.” \n\t“Don’t you remember me?” \n\t“Should I?” \n\t“I’d hope so. The name’s Legion. All my mates call me Lee.” \n\t“Oh, yes. You. Nice to see you again, Legion.” \n Gabriel started off to the hut again, with Legion skipping besides him. \n\t“So what are you up to, Gabe?” \n\t“The same as you, I expect.” \n\t“Probably,” Legion said. “This guy must be important if The Big Man’s sent you. I thought you were meant to be his right-hand man.” \n\t“And what’s that meant to mean?” \n\tLegion shrugged. “Nothing. Just thought you’d have better things to do than come all the way down here. You in his bad books or something?” \n\t“No. If I was in his bad books, I’d be down with you and your kind. This is the last soul on Earth, and...” \n\t“Oh, I know that,” Legion interrupted. “You think I came up here for fun? I’d rather be back home. It’s Cannibal Friday today, I was looking forward to it. But no – I’ve got to get this guy and bring him back with me.” \n\tGabriel laughed, a laugh that sounded like tinkling bells. “I don’t think so, Lee. I’m taking him back with me.” \n\tLegion pounced in front of the angel, and snarled. “So do you want to fight for him or something? Bring it, Feathers.” \n\t“I’m not going to fight you.” \n\t“Oh yeah? There’s no way I’m giving him a choice between going with you and me. Why would he go to Hell? Only one of us is talking to him, and it’s me.” \n\t“Sorry, but that’s not going to happen. He’s coming to Heaven. His Father wants to welcome his child home.” \nLegion snorted loudly. “Don’t give me that. You’ll be trying to convince me next.” \n“Actually, I…” \n“No.” \n“We’re here now,” Gabriel said, pointing to the hut, only a few feet away now. “Why don’t we just both go in, introduce ourselves, and let him decide what he wants to do.” \n“I already told you! He’ll want to go with you!” \n“We don’t even know who’s in there. For all I know, he’s an axe murderer, or a Satanist. I think they’ll be pretty keen on following you. And if they want to join me, well… Between you and me,” Gabriel whispered, “God’s not so keen on Satanists.” \n\tLegion rolled his eyes. “Fine. You’ve convinced me. Let’s do it.” \n\tBefore either of them could walk up to the door and knock on it, someone yanked it open. An old man stood there in the doorway, staring blankly into the distance. \n\t“Hello there!” Gabriel called out, brightly. “I’ve come to…” \n\tThe man yawned and stretched. He didn’t seem to have noticed the angel at all, let alone heard him. \n\tFrowning, Gabriel gave a little wave, but the man just picked up a little bag and stepped out of his hut, pulling the door shut behind him. \n\t“Mate!” Legion shouted, but the man trudged past him. When Legion yelled again, right in his ear, the man didn’t even blink. \n\tLegion looked up at the angel and shrugged. \n\t“Great,” Gabriel sighed. “Another atheist.”\n\nEDIT: Ooh, Gold. Thank you, kind stranger!\n" ]

[ 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 20, 42 ]

[ "1402918706", "1402942083", "1402919008", "1402941278", "1402922517", "1402916200", "1402918551" ]

[ "**Short and sweet with a drop off ending.**\n\n~Dig Site 193~\n\n\"What is it?\" My subordinate asked, pulling a small plastic box from the ground. About the size of my palm, with several small markings along the back.\n\n\"I have no idea,\" I say, astonished, as I toss the object into a levi-trap to be hauled back to dating. I'd follow it, considering it appeared to be from the pre-sentience era. This find could make my career.\n\n~Dating~\n\n\"Well we know when it was from, but what did it do?\" The Dating specialist looked to me.\n\n\"You still didn't tell me when it's from, so I can't say,\" I glare at the man. I really hate newbies.\n\n\"Pre-sentient, like you said. Twenty ten give or take a few years,\" he looked expectantly at me, like that would tell all.\n\n\"And these markings? What was 'samsung'?\" I ask, running my hand over the back of what had pretty well been determined to be a device. The specialist typed the phrase into his system, then stared at the screen's command line, amazed with how the system learned. Newbie.\n\nI picked up the worn system and ran my fingers over the buttons. The front face, now the screen, started to emit light.", "Two men sit in a dim room, on opposite sides of a cheap platinum table. Atop the table is the object of their discussion, a small yellow plastic block.\n\n\"We've found thousands of these Sir, in multiple shapes and colours\", the younger man begins, \"No one in the group has any idea what they could be, but we've managed to date them to the late microprocessor age. The year 2000 approximately, give or take fifty years.\"\n\n\"Let me see that for a minute\", the older man replies, snatching the block without waiting for a reply. \"Hmm... Yes\" he continues feeling the circular protrusions on the top of the brick. \"I believe I know what this is.\"\n\n\"Well sir, what is it?\", the younger man asks after a few minutes\n\n\"As you should well know much of our pre-quantam era knowledge was lost in the thermonuclear dark ages of 2400-2700 AD, so we can never know for certain, but I believe this is what was once known as a Caltrop?\", the older man answers with a hint of smugness.\n\n\"A caltrop? I don't believe I've ever heard the word.\", the young man responds, sensing his teachers desire to explain.\n\n\"Well the microprocessor age was a violent time, mankind was divided into multiple countries or tribes which often fought with one another. A caltrop was a strategic military weapon, armies used to throw a couple hundred thousand behind them, it slowed down enemy units, and disabled calvary.\", the older man explains relaxedly, content at having solved the mystery, \"Your group was quite lucky, if any of you had accidently stepped on one you'd probably have sent for psychiatric reconditioning for the pain these things can cause.\"\n\n\"There's one other thing sir, if you'd look here at the bottom left corner of the block.\", the younger man continues turning on the table's holographic magnification process,\"we think there used to be some writing here, we can't be certain, but preliminary imaging software indicates it was this logo\". The younger man points out a slight yellow impression in the brick. \n\n\"Lego\"\n\n\"Do you have any idea what this could stand for?\"\n\n\"That was probably the tribe which made these particular Caltrops\", the older man responded, \"these primatives often liked to put an identifying mark on anything they made, common opinion says it was probably done for religous or superstitous reasons.\"" ]

[ 1, 8 ]

[ "1402967431", "1402949193" ]

[ "It was in the air. As I drew a long, slow puff from my cigarette, I could sense the tension the night had brought with her. I was not the only one, of course. My dog was wimpering at my side, as he always does when he senses the beasts are near. He's a good dog though, he has never failed me. He has reasons to fear the beasts, too: half his body is scarred by fire, his pelt never to be whole again. Lucky for him, it was only the beast's offspring he had to fight off. Saved my life, too, and my horse's for good measure. A good dog is always afraid of the beast to come; never of the beast in from of him. Good dog.\n\nMy horse too showed signs of agitation, responding to my dog's. They haven't worked together yet, their working relationship not forged through fire, so to speak. My last horse got taken by a beast when my dog and I were cowering under the relative safety of a cave-like formation in the middle of one of the rare oasis in the desert. It's always a gamble, to stop in those places: dragons need to drink too, and they sleep in the rocks. Lucky for us this time, none was there. But one of them had flown over the oasis and grabbed my horse nonetheless. It had made a brief second passage to see if it could catch some other snacks, but we were well hidden, and their sense of smell is not the best. Thank God.\n\nI turned to my companion, James. A good lad, more experienced than I, yet he had seen less action. I attributed this to his goddamn luck, of which cow-boys seem to run out of pretty quickly these days. Not him. Also, it cannot hurt that James loads his dual Colts with homemade ammo, the kind that you don't use on a man unless you don't want to be able to identify him once you've hit your target. I saw James use it once on a man, when we got pinned by thieves in a deserted canyon. I'll never forget the resounding echo after his first and only shot, and how the man he had shot had his upper body turned into a very fine mist of blood. I had never seen thieves disappear so quickly either. But they know that even if dragons don't care for the smell of blood, firing a bullet in the desert usually means you're gonna have to fire more of them, soon, if you've been unlucky enough to be shooting your pistols in a beast's hunting domain.\n\nHe was checking his weapons, his movements calm but his look anxious. He knew this zone of the desert was part of several -*several*- hunting domains, which is both an advantage and a handicap. Dragons are pretty territorial beasts, and generally it means that when their domains overlap, they go at it between themselves to ascertain their dominion over this and that part of the desert. Thus they leave us humans to conduct our business, especially when they've been wounded or if they still fight. But it also means that the chances of meeting one or more dragons can increase dramatically if they're being quiet. You never know.\n\nI checked my weapons too. I preferred using regular anti-dragons ammo, the kind you can buy in the good stores though. It's less effective than James', but also less expensive, and I don't have to count my bullets. I am not as great a shot as he is, not that it would matter anyway. You can't take down a dragon with this kind of ammo, you can only wound them -if you're lucky, that is- and make them retreat to their lair. James could probably kill one, if he's small enough, but when I had asked if he ever had, he had stared at me and shaken his head. Goddamned beasts.\n\nJames was eyeing my rifle now; the only piece of equipment we had that could be really dangerous to a dragon. It was loaded with special bullets, carrying a mineral extracted from the eyes of dead dragons. Their huge eyes contain a sort of natural pocket that traps small pieces of an undefined mineral, I guess something their bodies produce. It's lethal to them when it's shot directly into their bloodstream, so the bullets have to be designed to pierce through their hide. You still have to aim carefully at specific zones of their body, documented to be thinner than the rest, but the odds are not in favour of the cow-boy on this. Still, I checked the rifle, checked the extra ammunition we had bought together: all was in order. Time to move.\n\nWe had been warned that dragons roamed over the area, several herds having been thinned down by the beasts a few days before we had entered the zone ourselves. The caravans had only lost the cow-boys foolish enough to chase the beasts for a couple heads of cattle: we knew better than this. Also it meant the dragons in the area had been fed not too long ago, it decreased our chance to get attacked too. But you can never really rely on those 'rules': dragons are wild animals, and whatever takes their fancy, they do. That's why we are always ready for whatever could happen.\n\nJames shot at the front of the herd, in order to launch forward what we call the 'baited vanguard'. Give a lick of whiskey to some of your less viable cattle heads, a kick in the ass with your spurrs, and you have a vanguard rushing forward, possibly warning you of the trouble ahead if they get attacked. Some cow-boys don't like to do it: James and I do, for the simple reason that we have cows for this very purpose. More agitated animals in a not yet panick-stricken herd can hinder your progress. We let those roam forward, the dogs sometimes following to make sure they don't deviate, and we're good to go. Plus it feeds the beasts, and when they're not hunting for sport, it usually calms them down.\n\nMy thoughts on the subject were suddenly interrumpted: James was coming back, but a lot quicker than he should have, both his colts drawn. Not a good sign.\n\n'Trouble ahead, boy. I just saw a big shadow leap from this rock formation, a couple miles ahead. We're in for a bit of action. You think you're up for it?'\n\n'Not really a choice, is there?'\n\nI drew one of my colt as well, checking the safety. Off. Good. Our dog was now growling and keeping close to the horse, as he was instructed to do. I shot forward, the colt in one hand, the reins in the other. I had to stop the herd from moving too fast, let the vanguard do its job, and hopefully the beast would go away. I could see it in the distance now, and that was not a good sign. It meant it was a big-ass dragon, and the shadow it projected on the sand was not proving me wrong. At all. Suddenly the winged shadow in the sky came out of the Sun in which direction it had flown so far, and I could see it was a real monster. Black scales, a three-horned head the size of a small cow, fangs like black daggers, red eyes, a long tail with black, sharpened bones protuding all along it, and feathered dark red wings almost fifty feet wide. It could probably grab a cow in each talon and fly back home. It would be the best case scenario for us. I put my colt back in its holster and grabbed my rifle. I heard James whistle three times, warning me not to take the shot. I knew it, I just wanted to be ready, because I would not be able to deter this fucker from coming closer with my two colts, even if I managed to shoot him in both its eyes. It was truly a monster. My ride was getting unsteady under my legs, so I whispered a few calming words, my dog yelping with empathy at the terrified horse. I could not avert my eyes from the dragon, who was almost on the herd now, and above the vanguard, its flight not in a straight line. It surely meant he was wounded. It suddenly shot downward to the terrified vanguard that had started to come back to the herd, but too late. A gust of wind blew away the sand and dust of the desert, and the dragon had laid its talons on a cow. But something was wrong. Maybe it was because it was wounded, but the dragon had secured the cow on the ground, and had not shot back up in the air to return to its lair. Instead, with a snap of its mouth, he tore apart the cow's head and ate it like you would down a shot of bourbon. He was now staring at the herd, the cow under its massive body emitting small patches of smoke from the contact with its hairs and the incredibly hot body of the dragon. I could see it had festering wounds on its head and stomach, the result of a fight with another beast. That was not good: he was going to need to eat to recuperate, and eat a lot. Suddenly, the dragon threw its head backwards, its massive chest getting even bigger. He was about to spit fire at the herd, something I could not allow.\n\nEdit: a word.\n\nEdit: another word.", "A heifer's front leg sat on the ground beside the torn fence. Blood pooled around it, but flies were just now starting to find it - it was fresh. Jose jabbed it with his boot heel,\n\n\"It's fresh,\" he said, nonchalantly. \n\n\"Yeeeep,\" Eli answered with a sigh. He slid two shotgun shells down his coach gun and flipped it up with a hard click. J.C. tried to appear at much as ease as he could. Sure, he had been a cowhand for a while, and he knew this would come up eventually, but out in Oklahoma the nearest one was at least a hundred miles in any direction. Now that he was down off the Caprock, and winter was finally over...well, it looks like they're finally out again.\n\nEli must have seen the worry on J.C.'s face. He chuckled gruffly as he shoved a coach gun into J.C.'s arms, \"Heh, you ain't got these out in Oklahoma, huh? Well, welcome to Pala Dura, kid.\"\n\nGuns and loaded and extra ammo in their saddle bags, the three road out past the mangled barbed wire fence to red face of the canyon. From somewhere behind one of the formations, there was a horrifying screech; a gargling noise; and then a clattering sound of sharp claws on red stone.\n\n\"Ha ha ha!\" Eli laughed triumphantly and raised his gun into the air, \"A *CRAWLER*!\" He turned a wicked smile to J.C., \"Ooh whoo, boy, y'er lucky! Somethin' with wings mighta been too tough for your first go.\"\n\nIn a second, Jose had his horse galloping to towards the sounds. His pistol was raised straight into the air. He fired off a shot and yelled something in Spanish. The sound must have caught the crawlers attention, because the noise of clattering claws was getting closer. Eli trotted up a bit farther and raised his coach. J.C. followed.\n\nAfter a couple more pistol shots and a few more seconds of yelling, a dusty red giant scuttled from around the canyon wall not 50 feet away from them. It was at least 30 feet long with its tail, which whipped across the ground, tossing large rocks. Its legs were short and bowed and five intimidating claws sat at the end of each one. Its head was wider than J.C. thought it would be - and spiked, like a horny toads. It shrieked and revealed four rows of black, jagged teeth.\n\n\"Alright,\" Eli spoke softly and slowly, \"Now, Jose's a shitty shot, but that horse of his is fast. He'll get the crawler to use up his fire before it can reach the grass.\" True to Eli's word, Jose began darting in front of the crawler. The thing seemed to go berserk. It stretched out its neck and fire streamed from its mouth in Jose's direction. J.C. felt the heat before the flame died against the rocks. Jose was way ahead of its flame, though. Nothing to worry about, it seemed.\n\n\"Now, we gotta go. You're not a shitty shot, are ya?\" Eli asked. J.C. shook his head. \"That's right,\" Eli said, \"You said you were always huntin'.\" Eli was suddenly galloping away. J.C. urged his horse to follow. They took a wide arc to come behind the crawler.\n\n\"AIM FER THE KNEES!!\" Eli yelled over his shoulder. J.C. pulled his horse into a smooth gallop and then pushed the coach gun against his shoulder. Just as he had lined up the barrel with one of the crawler's back knees, the thing moved with uncanny speed. Its long claws dug into the side of the canyon face and he began to crawl up the side. J.C. was dumbfounded.\n\nBeside him, Eli fired off a shot. A few bits tore into the crawler's right hind quarter. It cried out and lost a bit of its momentum. It slid down a few feet, tearing the canyon wall. \n\nIts small moment of falter gave J.C. a second to regain himself. He thundered forward and lined up with the right front knee as the beast resumed its chase with Jose. Unfortunately for J.C., the crawler noticed him coming up beside it. It slowed its pursuit and turned its head at J.C., mouth open. I weird whispering sound came from the back of it's throat. Jose had run it dry. Without much thinking, J.C. charged straight at the crawler's open maw. With fearsome jolt, he fired his coach gun into its mouth. \n\n***\n\nJ.C. and Eli sat by the fire eating the weird and tough meat. Jose worked behind them, salting and packing meat into canvas bags.\n\n\"Very, very well done, J.C.,\" Eli said, mouth full. \"Can you believe injuns didn't have any guns to kill these things? Heh, lot a good them arrows woulda done 'em.\"\n\n\"I heard they didn't try to kill 'em. They just let 'em fly around, or eat buffalo, or whatever,\" J.C. said, \"I heard the dragons didn't attack nobody 'til we got here.\"\n\nEli laughed. " ]

[ 3, 11 ]

[ "1403035514", "1403035319" ]

[ "I live in a world of wretched agony.\n\nIf I believe the Tibetans, this is a world of my own creation. Thought-forms of sights and sounds cast in front of me like a fallen apple just out of reach of the penned animal, inaccessible no matter how it strains against the rough-hewn boards of the fence. No matter how bloody its neck becomes.\n\nI am incapable of dying. I am incapable of fleeing. I exist not even as a thing, but as a function; a rhythm that has become a drone in a head which does not exist.\n\nIf there is still such a thing as hope, then let me hope for darkness.\n\nIf there is still such a thing as hope, then let me hope for death. ", "I floated for a very long time in the white before waking up. Waking isn't really the right term, but its the closest I can think of. One moment I was floating away, no thoughts or emotions, just sensations of love. The next I was standing in what looked to be an operating room surrounded by doctors and nurses clad in scrubs, moving with deliberate intent around the patient prone on the table. Tubes of all kinds snaked from the patient's open chest cavity. I leaned in closer to take a better look, the busy surgeons not seeming to mind my intrusion. A pale pink heart was beating of its own accord in the open wound. Normally such sights would have turned my stomach, but at that point in time my mind really hadn't returned to something resembling before. I watched on for a time with child-like curiosity as the wound was closed up, tubes retracted, and the patient wheeled off to recovery. \n \nThis was a very strange time for me. I shambled about the hallways and corridors of the hospital, poking my head into rooms frequently. Nobody seemed to care so much or complain, and truthfully I wasn't meaning any harm. Natural curiosity lead me to explore, but I found that things would start to get fuzzy and tingly if I ventured too far from the room where I had seen that patient taken. Once I made it as far as the parking lot across the road from the hospital before an overwhelming panic forced me to run as fast as I could back to the patient's room. Several days of this wandering, exploring the boundaries, and returning to the room followed. Each day I felt more of myself again, memories slowly returning in a patchwork of incomplete puzzles. \n \nHer name was Samantha, the patient in the room I mean. The words on her chart slowly started to figure themselves out as I studied it, letters making sense after a time where I had seen only strange squiggles before. The chart read something about a heart transplant followed by a number of medical terms that did not become clear even after I stared at them all day. I could only surmise that I didn't know what they had meant before waking up. Samantha's parents came to visit her in the mornings, her mother bringing a new flower for a vase every day and her father dutifully fluffing her pillow. Today's flower was a sunflower. It was the first one for which a name had come unbidden to my mind. \n \nIn the evenings a young man Samantha's age would come to visit alone. He wore the same clothes frequently day after day and looked as if hygiene wasn't a top priority. Her parents would be gone by then and he would sit by her unconscious body, holding her hand in his nicotine stained fingers and calling her Sam as he whispered to her. I noticed he would glance nervously after a while at the hanging bags of liquid painkillers, licking chapped lips and grinding his teeth. Once he even reached out a shaky hand for a bag labeled 'morphine', but quickly snatched his hand back and held it close to his chest, perspiring and shaking bodily. The young man left quickly after that day and did not return. \n \nSam woke up after a time and began to receive regular visits between the nurses and her parents. She was up and walking, albeit slowly and balancing with a metal rolling tree holding her IV bags. Day after day she grew stronger, and day after day my mental faculties returned. I had figured out that I had passed away and Sam had somehow received my heart. This was alarming at first, with so many metaphysical questions about God and life filling my head that I almost yearned for the early simple minded days. More and more I probed the limits of how far I could go from Sam, but it was clear I could only make it so far even with determined grit before the panic would close in around me and I'd find myself sprinting back in her direction. It was bad luck that I had been on a walkabout to the hospital cafeteria when her parents had wheeled her down to their car for discharge, speeding away up the road for their home. Then the panic had caught me by surprise with none of the usual tingling and buzzing that slowly preceded it when I was exploring on my own. With supernatural speed I ran in blind fear towards her direction, passing cars on the highway in my sprint as if they were standing still. This terror only ended once I had returned to Sam's side as she sat on the couch in her parent's house. She was eating Cheetos. \n \nGradually Sam's life seemed to return to normal. For my part I spent the days exploring my new surroundings. I had tried watching TV with Sam, but her godawful taste in reality shows was more than I could bear. Her parents were somewhat better to haunt, and her father would read the newspaper in the mornings. I could read over his shoulder in the most rude manner, but he never seemed to mind. Once or twice he swatted at his ear as I hovered in close, lost in an article. I experimented with trying to control his hand to force him from turning the pages so quick, but all my efforts seemed futile. I almost thought I had done something when he stretched the fingers out on a hand I had spent an hour pressing on, complaining to his wife that he must have hit his funnybone as his nerves were tingly. \n \nOf course I had to go where Sam went, which became much more frequently as her health improved. Our days were filled with trips to the mall or to see movies. Sadly her taste in film wasn't much better than that in television, so I suffered through a string of romcom flicks while she and her friends ate popcorn and gossiped. It all seemed very normal and bland until one night she crept out the back door to the house well after her parents had turned in. The young man from the hospital was there to greet her a block away in his old Ford Fiero. I did not like the look of him at all. \n \nSam called him Johnnie as they smoked something green and nasty under a bridge several blocks from the house. She said she wasn't supposed to be doing this or seeing him, but he just rolled up another joint for her. Johnnie took out a little silver metal box with a syringe and some vials that I did not like at all. Sam was giggling and puffing away while her boy strapped a rubber thong to his arm and patted at his vein. I screamed and screamed, but neither of them heard. After shooting himself up, he offered Sam the needle. Thankfully she declined. \n \nThey went for a walk on the jetties under the bridge laughing and swaying woozily. I crept along behind them and glared at Johnnie. Both seemed oblivious to the danger of the drop and rocks below. Johnnie stopped to shoot himself up again while Sam tiptoed along the very edge of the drop off. Disgusted, I set about investigating the rocks and rushes to distract myself. \n \nI wasn't looking when it happened. Johnnie's head was laying limply against his chest and drool was coming out. Sam was screaming at him, trying to slap him back awake. He had overdosed clearly. Screaming some more, Sam started running back along the way to go find help. In the dark and without sobriety, she missed a step and went tumbling down into the rocks below. I peered over the edge and saw her chest thankfully still rising from her unconscious form, but her legs were bent in queer directions. Johnnie hadn't moved one bit. \n \nFrantically I scrambled around feeling powerless. Johnnie's cell phone poked out of his hip pocket, taunting my lack of interaction. I glared at the boy and kicked at him with all my might, pummeling his head with invisible hands. Raw emotion poured out of me, and I almost missed it when his head jerked slightly after one of my hits. I thought back to Sam's dad and the paper when I had tried to move his hand. Maybe... I grabbed the boy's arm and pulled with all my strength. Achingly slow, it moved to his hip where the phone was. Somehow I was able to close fingers around it and pull it out, each button push an agonizing feat like trying to move an old safe. Thankfully it was only three digits to call emergency services and I felt a sense of relief as the call rang through, but the feeling quickly vanished when the speaker on the other end of the line kept asking what the emergency was with no response. \n \nI grabbed the boy's neck and mouth, struggling with all my rage. Say something damn you, a word at least. Noises worked their way out incoherently, but it at least kept the operator on the line. Filling his mouth with my hands, I moved his larynx and put a knee to his chest to force air out. I hoped it sounded like the word \"bridge\", but by then I was exhausted and fell numbly to the ground. Things grew white again and fuzzy. \n \nI woke up again by Sam's side in the hospital again. The doctors were conferring around her in hushed voices. I found her parents in the waiting room, her mother was sobbing and her father signing what looked to be consent forms. After a time they moved her broken body into an operating room and began opening her chest along much the same lines before. I saw her pink beating heart, my pink beating heart, as they began to remove it." ]

[ 2, 6 ]

[ "1403280965", "1403285037" ]

[ "\nIt was an empty, hollow feeling. The company that I had worked so hard for, the company that i had devoted my entire life too decided that \"they wanted to go in another direction\" and let me go without even so much as a thank you. I'd never been really much of a drinker, but not knowing where else to turn, i walked into a local bar on my way home and drowned my sorrow in endless glasses of cheap scotch. \n\nAs I drunkendly stumbled into the bathroom stall I noticed a somewhat mysterious looking man washing his hands. This man looked totally normal, but as I was using the lavatory, I could not help but feel that something about him was a bit strange but I couldn't point my finger on what exactly it was.That was when I noticed the envelope. It had big, bold letters marked \"Authorized Personnel Only\" above the United States Government Seal of Approval. Being the good sumeritan that I am, I quickly grabbed the envelope and ran out the bathroom door, checked all over the bar, but to my dismay the man was no where to be found. I described this man to the bartender and asked if he had seen him, to which the bartender replied that he had seen no such man at the bar and that I should go home and get some rest. At this point I decided that I had no business carrying such a top secret document of information, so I set the envelope at the bar.\n\n\"Hey what the hell are ya doing you can't leave that thing here!\"yelled the bartender.\n\n\"But it's not mine I...I...\" I was in such disbelief at the bartender's response to the point where I was almost speechless.\n\n\"You what, you stole it!?\"\n\n\"No I...I\"\n\n\"I don't have time for this, you can either grab the envelope and get your ass out of here, or you can leave the envelope here and I can call the cops\"\n\nI realized that this bartender had panicked at the sight of a top secret piece of information that had no business being in his hole-in-the-wall of a bar, and that there was no way to properly talk to him and explain what happened in a calm and reasonable manner, so I left the bar, envelope in hand and all.\n\nI reached the front door of my house and as much as it shamed me, I still had the envelope in my hands. I tried so many times to get rid of it on my walk home, but just couldn't bring myself to. All I had to do was let if go, to just drop on the side of the road and let someone else worry about it, but something inside of me was dying to see what was inside.\n\nI didn't have to worry about my wife and kids seeing the envelope, as it was very late, and they were already fast asleep. As I sat on my kitchen table, i thought to myself \"it's probably just some papers, some unimportant buerecratic bullshit,\" but I knew deep down in my heart that this was not at all true. \n\nI opened the envelope and saw bubble wrap. Then paper. Then more bubble wrap. Then more paper. Finally a cardboard box emerged. I opened the box. Then a coat of styrofoam. I waded through the styrofoam and saw a USB charger. My palms began to sweat. I grabbed my computer and thought of my brother-in-law George. George was always sort of out there, he was always taking about some sort of government cover-up. One day, George would lecture me on the power of the Rothschild family, the next day he would rant and rave about how all the serial killers in America have been nothing more than government agents, and another day he would try to convince me that weather control is real. \"Well George, looks like I might have to eat crow,\" I said to myself out loud as I plugged the USB stick into my computer. \n\nThe information that I had picked up in the 10 minute video that had popped onto my computer screen had been more mind blowing than anything myself or George or almost anyone could have expected. It was a training video, narrated by President Barack Obama himself actually. What I had gathered from this video was that planet earth is nothing more than a computer program and that every physical being or object on it is therefore nothing more than a simulation. The various governments of the world are ran by reptilian shape shifters from the planet Kepler-35c, who act as more or less, administrators of this computer program. Essentially, what Obama had been explaining to his fellow cabinet members in this video was the plan on how to administer his government during his term as what he called \"Chief Director of the Planet Earth Program-American Sector.\"\n\nI was completely numb. My whole life was a lie. The couch I was sitting on, a lie. The house I had worked so hard for, a lie. My wife, a lie. My kids, a lie. Getting fired a few hours ago, a lie. It was all just a computer simulation going on on some planet some place in the galaxy that I had no way of even perceiving. What's the point of living, what's the point of going through with any of this, I thought. I saw an extension cord lying close to the TV. It was perfect. I tied it to the ceiling, opened a little hole for my neck, and got ready to end the lie that I had experienced. I put my neck through the extension cord, looked up, and saw my 7 year old daughter staring right into my eyes. \n\n\"Daddy, Daddy what are you doing?!!!\" she yelled\n\n\"She's not real\", I whispered to myself. \"Pull this extension cord, free yourself from the lie.\" \n \nBut I couldn't do it. I knew my daughter wasn't real, but I couldn't bring myself to leave her alone in the world, I couldn't bare to see her without her father. I pulled my head out of the hole, picked her up and gave her a hug as we both sobbed.\n\nEveryday I continue to be caged in this computer program called earth is another day in hell as far as I see it. Everyday I consider pulling the plug, somedays more seriously than others. In fact, just this past week I have put a gun on my temple at least 5 times, but I just can't pull the trigger. Everytime I try, I see my daughters face, giving me the same look as she had the night I found out that my existence was a lie, and I just can't bare the thought of abandoning her. \n", "\"Authorized Personnel Only\"\n\nThe letters were big, black, bold. Just as they should be. I briefly considered putting it back, but then the bus drove away and I was left with no choice. I really should have known better than to take a manila folder from a public bus. But I didnt.\n\nThe whole walk down my street and up my driveway was agonizing. The offending object sat in the crook of my arm, perfectly normal for all anyone else could tell, but it felt like it held the whole world inside. It had no reason to be so heavy and yet it was. I opened the door, tossed my jacket onto the floor, and rushed into my kitchen- it just felt like the place to do this -and sat down at the table. A quiet ripping noise that seemed to shake the walls came as I opened the top, and then there it was. A flash drive.\n\nFumbling slightly, I just barely managed to get it into my laptop on the third go. Had to flip the bastard twice, but I did it. hardware recognized, drivers downloaded, and files opened. There on the screen sat a single, solitary file, a text file, named hello world dot doc.docx. What an absurd name for a top secret file, it was supposed to have some cool codename, like the.operation.mongoose.project.txt. But no, dot doc dot docx. When I opened the file the strangest thing happened... it was blank.\n\nI blinked. Blank? What the hell? Just a blank... oh, there are more. More blank pages. I scrolled for a bit before just clicking the bar and dragging downwards through the fields of empty pages, when something caught my eye. A splash of black, only there for a split second, and I had almost missed it.\n\n\"They're everywhere, they know you found this, and they're outside right now.\"\n\nThey? What was this, some shifty short story about how the government's run by lizards? This was all just ab-\n\nMy thoughts were interrupted by the noise of a car door closing, then someone frantically knocking on my door. Peeking through the hole, I managed to catch a flash of a boot before the door came crashing down on me. And that's all that I remember before waking up here, in this dark corridor, with only a chunk of black rock and a rotten scrap of parchment to write on. If you're reading this, my message made it, and they know it. Run, right now. I don't know who they are but someone has to know, someone has to be able to stop them and get me out of here. Please, run, spread the message, and try to fight. If you don't make it... I'm sorry that I told you. I'm just so hungry and they won't feed me until I tell someone, bring someone new to them. I'm so sorry." ]

[ 3, 5 ]

[ "1403318006", "1403298118" ]

[ "Edit: Oops. Took too many poetic licenses with the prompt.\n\n---\n\nScorched earth. You can still feel the heat of the fire that burned this place to ashes. New stars appear and wink out every night in the sky. Jumpships warping in and out. I am done here. After narrowly losing my life seventeen times, I am going home.\n\nThis is Wrerker III. Warzone, recent. Not home.\n\n---\n\nTrees. Green trees all around everywhere I look.\n\nTwenty five feet tall trees extend to the trees extend to the horizon. Impossible beasts with their entire body consisting of necks and stomachs munched on the green coniferous leaves in extreme lethargy. There was an air of peace that is not found on any human habitat.\n\nI was in need of transit fare to home, I ran out of money. Space travel is expensive. I guess I am a lumberjack now.\n\nArbor VI. Home to the very concept of solitude. However, not my home.\n\n---\n\nSweeping valleys of brown dotted with black triangles chasing a gray cloud. The cloud is vast and slow. It wont go far.\n\nShip making a fuel stop at Aeol VI, gas giant. Not home.\n\n---\n\nMy feet sink down in green grass. Birds chirp in the trees. The blue hills in the distance implore you to explore their mystery. The gentle hubub of people assures you you are among friends.\n\nSirenus I. A cheap old Earth imitation tourist world. It is fun. Bit it is not home.\n\n---\n\nThe large leaves like fern fronds five feet in length never move. There is no wind. The red moss feels soft underneath my naked feet. The landscape just outside the spaceport is naked red to the horizon, broken occasionally by small groves of fern-palms. The gravity is light and fighting in higher gravity planets have strengthened me. I can jump six feet into the air!\n\nA litter honks at me hoping for a potential customer. I give it an irritable look while jumping over it. Do I look like tourist ? Cant you see?\n\nCrimsyn I. I am finally home!\n\n", "After the New Great War ended, I was able to come back home. During it, I had fled, from the provinces of Europe to the cities of Asia, to the towns of Africa, and finally to the hidden colony of my people in that fragile body of ice few still consider a continent. My travel through these lands had me thinking of my family.\n\n\nMy thoughts didn't lie with my house, or the many fragile belongings I had in Britain that was to be lost, but rather with my family. I worried about their state. We had been separated by bombings, and the last word of them I had heard was a letter, telling me they had left for respite in a boat to North America. We wouldn't be able to meet until the war ended. My worries weren't on my house, that I would never see any pictures of myself as a child again, that I would never sleep in my childhood bed, that any remnants of my home would be rubble. Instead, I worried about my family. They were in a land that followed its own suits in the past World Wars, it wasn't in the war yet. Despite this, I found ways to think about them and hope they would be okay. I prayed and wished for their wellbeing, in spite of my beliefs. I cried in fear for them every time word of possible war to their state was uttered. \n\n\nNow, I walk home. My family is back home, waiting to meet me there. We stay in a pissy small house in the country, but I hear the surroundings are nice. It isn't the same house and land I grew up in, the letters tell me. I don't gravitate about the changes that have come to the land I lived in my whole life though. No. As I walk alone in my travel, I wonder what my beloved red haired brother is doing. Has he progressed in his study of chess? Would he beat me next time? I dream of the intellectual conversations I know I'll have with my father. Has he found a way to break through my defenses of my beliefs? I imagined my mother, and her loving embraces and talk of my love life that irritated me. Did she have a new woman that she was sure would be my future wife? \n\n\nAt first, I worried if there was an issue with me. Home, this virtue that is preached everywhere but among gypsies, wasn't in the forefront of my mind. I didn't wonder about the whole new landscape or the loss of my old large house with yards I played many games in. \n\n\n After days of walking, it dawned upon me. I had been thinking of home. Home isn't the place of your nativity, it isn't the language, the country, the rules, the beliefs, or the house you grew up in. It's the people that you grew up with. My family was my home, and I sure as hell had missed them. \n\n\nAnd so I kept walking, moving foot after foot, dreaming of my home. Of my family.\n\nIts 2:14 AM now, so I think I'll go to bed instead of proofreading. Please, forgive me. My name should've given you the hint anyway.\n\n", "The day after. The stone is warm against my back. My feet lay limply out in front of me, dirtied (though intact) sneakers gleaming in the warm light of the rising sun. I scoot forward a matter of feet, allowing my legs to dangle off the edge. The blast had cleaved a large section of the skyscraper away. No doubt the street below is littered with concrete. I sigh plaintively. The Germans had a word. Blitzkrieg; lightning war. Strictly speaking, the definition did not apply to what had happened, but the words themselves did. It had happened and been over quickly. I had spent the night hiding in the very office I had been hoping to achieve an internship in.\n\nOh, well.\n\n–––\n\nFour days after. My legs ache. I had found a bicycle, but the chain had solidified ever so slightly from the heat of the detonations. It didn't last long, but it gave me a mile I wouldn't have had otherwise. Where am I going? Let's see. Highway 290. Strewn with cars as I was exiting the city, and now sparse and with the occasional wreck caused by the blinding lights that had torn our world asunder.\n\nI pass a military convoy. It had been heading for the city. They hadn't had time. The electromagnetic pulse of the explosion had disabled them completely. There was no use looking through them. There were no bodies. The military had survived, and taken their equipment with them. Perhaps they were going back to the army base.\n\nOh, right. Where am I going? Let's see. Home. Home sounds good.\n\nSix hundred miles by my count.\n\n–––\n\nNine days after. I'm thirsty. I had passed a man on the road. We said nothing to one another. He carried a revolver in his hand. His feet dragged. I don't think he noticed me. Perhaps shock. The cylinder had been empty and open – a wanderer, as aimless as I, though with one intact consciousness less. Six miles after, a minivan, and three corpses; two children and a woman.\n\nI reassure myself that they're dead. My associate's degree in Classical Archeology wouldn't help them. Neither would the bachelor's that I would have gotten three months from now.\n\n–––\n\nEighteen days after. I've been shot. A graze, really, and a misunderstanding at that. The man had patched it up, but it still aches, and I can't help but walk with a limp. He accompanied me for a time, but a road sign lured him away in search of distant relatives that lived in some town off the beaten path. I have a pistol of my own now. So far, I've used it on rabbits. I hope to continue doing so.\n\n–––\n\nNineteen days. I fired the pistol today. It wasn't a rabbit.\n\n–––\n\nTwenty three days. I'm halfway there, by my count. I'm also half of my weight – well, what I'm familiar with. The allure of home is great, but the allure of scavenging is greater. Beef jerky and stale peanuts looted from gloveboxes can only sustain me for so long. There is no shortage of water, though you have to be careful; occasionally, you'll find a bottle that contains stale tea or more commonly soda. Warm, flat, sickly. I'll drink it if I must, but there is no shortage of water yet.\n\nI would love some company.\n\n–––\n\nTwenty four days. The hunger got the better of me. Most of what I found was spoiled, but three cans of beans, some rice and a pan – I'll eat well for several days to come. I didn't walk as I should today. I'll get back on track tomorrow.\n\n–––\n\nI saw a convoy. Distant. Okay, I saw the dust of a convoy – long, arching swirls of sand and dust kicking up. I heard the engines. Perhaps it's military, perhaps it isn't. I think I'm in Oklahoma. Oh – thirty days. A month.\n\nI met a woman. She was... disagreeable. Unfortunately.\n\n–––\n\nThirty five days. I saw a road sign. One hundred fifteen miles until I'm home. I'm hungry. The cars here have been looted. I'm thankful that I had the sense to store water for the journey. It won't be enough.\n\n–––\n\nForty days. I recognize this territory now. Some of the suburbs. I lived near here for elementary school. Some of the trees here have leaves.\n\nI feel sick.\n\n–––\n\nForty three days. I met the military today. What's left of them. Big men with big toys, loyal to no cause. These men seemed kind. They only took my water. They left me my gun and what little meat I have. I can get more water. I'm within a day or two of home.\n\nI feel weak now. I have no appetite. I've vomited once or twice, and that spells bad news. Perhaps it's a flu?\n\n–––\n\nI'm home. I'm going to lay down now. I'm shaking. My head hurts. I've been walking for so long. My head hurts. I don't know where my parents are. I'm home, though. I'll wake up tomorrow and think of what to do. The lethargy will dissipate if I rest.", "The world was in shambles, the air was thick with smoke and the smell of razed land. I stumbled, almost dreamlike, across the barren landscape in a single direction. The goal was not in sight, but I had it firmly in mind. Home.\n\nIt was two years before the war started, when my dad convinced me to move across the country and to a city where I would spend the rest of my life studying and getting my degree. I said goodbye to my friends, my crush, my teachers, and my mother and sister who I left behind. I miss them all so terribly. I was only in my first year when the tensions between the nations finally broke, and the bombs started dropping. Like other students, it was all I could do to find shelter. We had feared that war would break out for some time, but after a while the fear became intangible, almost surreal. If they hadn't fought then, why fight now? We were horribly wrong. Many died, some shot in the street, other vaporized by tanks, some suffocated or crushed in the tombs of collapsed buildings. I survived. For two years, me and a group of students scavenged and lived however we could. It was a base life, but I was quite willing to live with it. I needed to, if I ever wanted to make it home again. I said goodbye to my comrades, who didn't come with me. It was still too dangerous. Even after two years, we have no idea who won or lost because all communications were fried. I only had one word in my head- home. So I set out.\n\nIt felt like hours, days, or even years, and I'm still walking. I hoped I was getting closer. I passed by patches of unbombed land, but even the plant-life there was withering under the harsh conditions man had set for them. Home. I ignored all of it, and kept on walking. Home. I needed to see my mother and sister. Home. It would be a long walk, but this was something that I need. Home.\n\n\"Jesus. How old do you think this kid is?\" asked a soldier, his uniform in tatters. His unit paused, craning their heads to observe what their squadmate was looking at. \n\n\"God. Can't be any older than 22. Poor guy.\" One replied. All of them continued to stare at the malnourished, glassy-eyed man flailing weakly against the ground. His mouth opened and closed, but only wheezed breaths came out.\n\n\"Wh-what should we do, commander?\" One soldier asked. The clear leader stared hard at the pathetic thing for a while.\n\n\"There's nothing we can do to help him, I think. Not with what we have. Let's set up camp here- suns about to go out. Let's keep the poor fuck company until he finds home.\" He said gruffly." ]

[ 2, 2, 2, 5 ]

[ "1403325660", "1403331322", "1403335716", "1403325660" ]

[ "(Partly NSFW)\n\nAs the sun slowly rose, the sound of a rooster sqwaking in the distance signaled the start of a new day in the small Kentucky town of Westeroos.\n\n\"Somebody kill that fuckin' rooster. I want its fuckin' head!\" exclaimed the agitated Farmer Jeff Barathy.\n\nFarmer Jeff was the leader and most profitable of the men in the town. His plantation was bigger than everyone else's, and the money he reaped off his crops was greater than all of Westeroos combined.\n\n\"Honey, it just the rooster, come back to bed,\" called his mother, Lisa Lanny.\n\n\"Naw, I reckon I have to git on wit watchin' over the plantation today.\" Jeff explained.\n\n\"Don't forgit later on you have to get to meetin' with Mary Gerry Tylor and plan out yer weddin',\" said Lisa Lanny.\n\nJeff walked out of the room, nearly bumping into his Uncle Jame. Jame was in charge of the field hands.\n\n\"Well, howdy nephew, I was just comin' to get ya up. Lots of work to be done today.\"\n\n\"Shut up I know what need to be done 'round here.\" Jeff spit back.\n\nThe two walked out of the farm house and over to the giant red barn. A man was standing there with a piece of paper, examining all the activity.\n\n\"Howdy, Jeff,\" greeted the man.\n\n\"Yes, Eddy, and how are we doin' so far this month?\" asked Jeff.\n\n\"Welp, the crops er growin' nicely, but you know, winter is coming,\" Eddy said.\n\n\"I know it is, now how 'bout 'cross the town. Any news?\"\n\nEddy stopped for a minute, and flipped through his pieces of paper, trying to collect what he is going to say.\n\n\"That Tennessee girl out across the Narrow Creek. She's not really doing much out there 'cept freein' all the badly treated farm hands. And she got three big horses. The biggest anyone's ever saw!\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah we will get to that eventually.\" said Jeff.\n\nEddy continued.\n\n\"I've also heard Stanley Barthy is building up an army of drunks and they are coming this way soon to take over the farm and make it into some brewin' land! He calls himself the One Brew King!\"\n\n\"Gods almighty!\" exclaimed Jeff. \"What are we to do?\"\n\n\"I'll gath'r up the field hands and head over to git all the guns. We'll take 'em out.\" said Jame.\n\n\"No, no. I can't have my good Uncle in danger of bein' killed, besides, mama wouldn't have anyone to fuck after the sun goes down.\" said Jeff.\n\nJame's face went beat red and Eddy grimaced. Jeff was deep in thought, but soon his face lit up.\n\n\"I'll have Uncle Ty fight them drunks. Doesn't matter if he gets killed. That midget hick.\"\n\n\"What about a midget hick?\" Ty was standing right behind Jeff. Jeff couldn't see him though, as Ty was half his size, but this didn't stop Ty from reaching up and slapping Jeff across the face.\n\n\"Gods damn you, Uncle Ty! I'll have put your nuts on the end of a stick and roast 'em like marshmallows!\" Jeff said angrily, clutching his cheek.\n\n\"Well that would be a problem for y'all then because my nuts are down in town in a back room at the bar deep in some ho's twat. You can go searchin' 'round those parts, boy, but y'all better bring a fly swatter.\"\n\nTy laughed and scampered off, leaving Jeff speechless.\n\n\"I'll make him fight. Hell, I'll kill him myself!\" Don't anyone know where I can git some cold beer round here? It's muggy as a swamp out yonder!\"\n\nAn old woman quickly scurried up and handed a cup to Jeff, but carefully hid her face under her straw hat. Jeff snatched the cup without a word of thanks and downed the drink. He noticed Jame and Eddy staring at him.\n\n\"Quit lookin' 'n' get back to workin'!\"\n\nJeff began to cough.\n\n\"This beer kinda tastes funny...\"", "Ok, you said you can set it anywhere, and anytime so I'm going to set this in the 1920's around New York City.\n\n_____________________________________________________________\n\nPROLOGUE\n\nIt's a time of extraordinary prosperity. New York City, the pinnacle of wealth and opportunity. The skyline is a marvel of the time, gleaming buildings seen from miles away. The wealthy flock to the city like birds returning home after winter. Of these wealthy, a few elite and prestigious families hold immense wealth and power. Numerous feuds have developed within these families. \n\nThe Lancasters, known for their vast fortune acquired through the Lancaster Gold Company which holds more than half of the market share in the industry, are the wealthiest and one of the most powerful of these families. The eldest in the family, Tyler Lancaster, heads the family company. He is a ruthless person, very calculating and politically astute. Tyler has three children, Theodore, Jaime, and Celia Lancaster. Theodore, the youngest, was born a midget, he is exceptionally educated and shrewd. The oldest, Celia, is an ambitious and willful individual. Jaime, the middle child, is a born fighter, and has a very kinglike look. Joanna Lancaster, wife of Tyler, died during Theodore's birth, which is something that Tyler and Celia wrongly hold against Theodore.\n\nThe Barathesons are a strong and powerful family. The eldest of the family is Robert Baratheson, he holds the position of Mayor or New York City, and is married to Celia Lancaster. He has three children, Jeffrey, Marcella, and Thomas Baratheson. Although, these children aren't actually Roberts, they were the product of incest between Celia and Jaime Lancaster. Steven Baratheson is the younger brother of Robert, he is very serious, and also stubborn. Reynold Baratheson, the youngest brother, he is a charismatic and sometimes frivolous person.\n\nThe Starks are a extremely wealthy family. They gained their massive fortune through bootlegging in the early 1920's after the 18th Amendment was passed. The eldest, Ned Stark, runs the family business. He is a very honorable man who does what is needed. Ned helped Robert Baratheson get the position of mayor, in return Robert guaranteed that Ned's business could continue undisturbed. Ned Stark is husband to Catherine Stark, who is the daughter of Harry Tully. She is a stunning woman with long auburn hair. They have five children, Robb, Sarah, Ariana, Brandon, and Ricky. \n\nNOTE: I'm not very good at writing the story or dialogue and I'm also tired so I'm just going to leave it there. **Please feel free to continue off of this**.", "Post removed per Rule 7. Users are offended who live in the region. Rather than keep removing their protests, I think it's best to remove the prompt.", "ARLENE\n\nThe smell of bread through the street was sweeter than any feast Arlene's had before. \"Here's the best place to catch a chicken, they come for the crumbs,\" she told a passing colored boy and his owner. She crept up behind the smallest, most agile chicken she could find. Slowly inching behind it, the chicken *bocked* and flapped its wings, but Arlene grabbed its legs before it could get away. She snapped its neck, and offered it to the baker through the window.\n\n\"Hey mister, trade you a chicken for some bread?\" She held up the carcass to be seen through the window. \n\nThe baker looked up from his kitchen, and his face contorted in anger. \"You little nigger, that was *my* chicken!\" He picked up a rolling pin, but before Arlene could see him take a step through the door, she bolted through the muddy street, and was gone before the baker was out the door. \n\nArlene has always had darker skin than her family, and on more than one occasion she's been mistaken for a mixed child, which in West Kentucky, might as well be a nigger. In Hillsland, it is no different. \n\nArlene has tried to avoid the Bartholemew's house since she, her father Edd, and her sister Sarah had come from their home, Winfell. Sarah would wed Jeffrey Bartholemew soon so the Stark family could have a stake in the the majority of the land from Hillsland to Winfell. She never liked that family, and the whispers Arlene has heard in the outskirts of Hillsland have made her even more uncomfortable.\n\nEven the slave boys are saying Edd slit the throat of Rob Bartholemew while out boar hunting, but Arlene refuses to believe it. Others say Rob died from eating the entire boar himself that they killed on the hunting trip. Others say his brother, Ren killed him out of jealousy for not getting his own land when their father died. Arlene doesn't know what happened for sure, probably no one does. She knows her father would never kill Rob, but she hasn't seen him in days. Her stomach aches from thinking about that possibility.\n\nIn the distance, pots and pans are ringing out in the direction of the Bartholemew's house. People begin to mutter, and among these mutters she hears the voices of two Bartholemew cousins she remembered meeting. They begin walking toward the racket with the rest of the townsfolk, and Arlene follows suit. \n\n\"I heard Jeffrey's taking Edd on his porch and loppin' his head off,\" one of the Bartholemew chuckles.\n\n\"He deserves it fer cuttin' Uncle Rob open like that,\" the other cousin replies.\n\nArlene is stunned. Her fear is true. She fights we way through the crowd as they finally reach the plot of land in front of the Bartholemew's. Hundreds of people are around, slaves and owners, hill people and townsfolk. The crowd is too dense to see, so Arlene steps up on a pig trough nearby for a better view of the porch. Sarah, Jeffrey, and Jeffrey's mother, Sarah Lee are standing off to one side, while Edd and a man with a decorated sword stands by. \n\nEdd opens his mouth, and Arlene is glad I hear his voice for the first time in days. \"I am Edward Stark, land owner of Winfell. I betrayed Rob Bartholemew, and I betrayed his family. I killed Rob while huntin' and I planned on killin' the rest of his kin for his land.\" \n\n\"*No...*\" Arlene is in disbelief. She almost faints into the trough, but the increasing bustle of the crowd shakes her awake. Arms raise as does the yelling. Mud flies through the air and cakes on Edd's face. \n\nThrough the mud, Edd raises his voice over the crowds, \"Jeffrey Bartholemew is the rightful recipient of this land by law, and by blood.\" \n\nAs the crowd grows more furious, Jeffrey makes another racket with the pots and pans, and says \"My mama tells me that I should best let him work out his debt as my slave, and that would be best for family concerns.\" Arlene's heart doesn't know whether to drop or lift. \"But those are just a woman's word, and he killed my paw! Take his head off!\" \n\nThe crowd erupts in hoots and hollars. Arlene watches as Edd's face falls sullen and defeated. He kneels his head over the wooden railing of the porch and rests his neck on it. \n\n\"*No, no, please heavens no...*\" Arlene is near in tears. She can't take her eyes off of her father. She hears nothing, not the cheering of the crowd, jut her own pleads and prayers. \n\nShe feels arms wrap around her waist and pull her to the ground. \"Don't look up there, nigger, look at me. Yes, nigger, look at me.\" Arlene's eyes are welling up and overflowing with tears. \"Don't look there, *nigger* look here, that's a good *nigger*.\" \n\nArlene hears a small whoosh through the air, as if the crowd exhaled all at once. \n\n\"It's done,\" the man said. \"You'll be comin'\n with me.\" She looks at his face long enough to recognize him. *Oren, that's his name. He peddles slaves from the south up to the north, I've heard it from slave kids.* He hands hands her a small knife and says \"I hope you can use it, nigger.\"\n\n\"I ain't a -\" she started.\n\n\"You ain't a smart nigger, is that what ya meant? Come yonder.\" He grabs Arlene by her hair and drags her into the woods. She walks with him, but struggles to be let go. More tears stream down her cheeks.\n\n\n\n", "This post is NSFW\n\nBilly sat 20 feet in the air, back rested against the shaded side of a towering Oak tree. He bit into an apple and let the juice dribble down his chin. Of all his brothers and sisters, Billy had always been the best climber and it was a fact he relished in. \n\nHe had only been caught on one occassion. His mother Crissy had watched his shadowy figure go racing by and had screamed at him to get down. \nWhen she had told his Father Nate, he had only pulled him aside and said, \"Don't you do that no more ya idgit!\" But after looking at his son's sad eyes he chuckled and tilted his head back for a guffaw, \"Aw shoot, I can't stay mad at ya for nothing. Gist don't let your ma catch ya. \"\n\nA whine from below brought Billy to his sense. His hound dog Scooter was whining at him, afraid that the young boy might fall. Instead of climbing down, Billy tossed him an apple and then darted off through the branches. He used his toes as anchors, curling them around the branches for balance. He jumped down from branch to branch getting lower and closer to the ground. Scooter followed him below, clutching the newly fallen apple in his mouth and still whining. \n\nThe tree was unfortunately placed on Latfield property, but it was the best tree within a hundred miles of the Stacoy farmyard. But getting back to his own property would mean sprinting past the Latfield shack. He ran as fast as he could carry himself until he reached the corner of the shack, where he slowed to a snail's pace. Scooter the coon dog slinked lightly behind him. He ducked beneath the ledge of a window when he heard a woman crying inside. \n\nHe stood up slowly and peeked his head inside the open window. He tried his best to stifle his surprise when he saw Cindy Latfield on her knees with her brother Joe behind her, also on his knees. They were both naked as the day they were born and doing what the cows do in the field every day. It wasn't the first time he had seen it happen, but the first time he had seen it happen between two humans. \n\nSuddenly, Cindy stopped shrieking long enough to look toward the window. When she spotted Billy, she pushed Joe off of her and bellowed, \"Stoppit you idjit! Iss one o' them damn Stacoy boys.\"\n\nBilly's eyes widened as Joe staggered toward the window, breeches around his knees. He made to get away, but a hairy arm shot out the window and grabbed him by his collar and hauled him back toward the window. Scooter the coon dog barked helplessly from the ground. \n\nJoe hauled the small boy up to the window and perched him on the ledge, 3 feet from the ground. \n\"Lissen here, ya idjit. You aint gon' tell anyone whatchu saw here today, I reckon?\"\n\n\"No sir,\" Billy stammered. \"Ya'll got mah word.\" He looked down, suddenly very pensive. \"Although, mah momma always says that Words is wind.\"\n\nJoe sneered, \"I should push you out this here winda.\"\n\nBilly shrugged, \"It won't matter if I tells anyone. Yous just matin with your sister. Everyone does that.\"\n\nJoe's eyebrows got wider, realizing the boy was right. \"Oh yea...\" His eyes narrowed suddenly, \"Well I is gonna push ya'll out this winda anyway, just for being a Stacoy boy.\"\n\nAnd before Cindy could protest, Joe extended his arm and Billy fell. He fell 3 feet to the ground below, where he promptly stood up and dusted himself off, counting only a few minor bruises. \n\nHe began to run away with Scooter as he heard Cindy hollerin behind him, \"You moron! That winda's only three feet off the ground!\"\n\n\"I heard ya woman! I'm gonna git mah shotgun and nail the sonbitch!\"\n\nIt wasn't too long before Billy was out of range, sprinting away happily in the dust of the cornfield, pellets peppering the ground behind his feet. ", "BRIAN\n\nThe summer sun was high and hot. His father had often told him of the storms and snows of a true winter, but Brian had never had the misfortune to have to endure one of those. So far in his short life, he had only ever seen a few lazy snow drifts, and a couple of chilly months. But as old Papa Edd would have it, during a *real winter*, the ranch was ransacked by monstrous snowstorms called blizzards, entire ponds froze over completely, and old men died of frostbite while making their ways out to the outhouse. \n\nPapa Edd’s warnings came often - after all, those were the family words. *Winter is comin’*. And this year, all the city men and science folk from down south in the capital in Jacksonville were preaching and heralding an impending ‘record’ winter, as they’d have it. But up in Lexington, the age-old abode of the Stark family, the weather was still as stifling as ever.\n\nBrian Stark was sprawled out on his back, spread-eagle, on the top of the old Red Barn, the tallest building on the entire ranch. He had taken to climbing and exploring the ranch ever since he was old enough to stand on his own two legs, and as his Ma would have it, it’d soon be the end of him.\n\nBut today was different, important in a way. The President of all the seven Confederate States, Rob Burthorpe, his wife Carrie Lann, and all his host of friends and family had been marching on up Route 75 for the past week, and they’d be arriving today. \n\nBrian shot up onto his rear as soon as he heard them approaching. And boy, were they ever loud. It was the largest gathering of folks Brian had ever laid his eyes upon - at least three hundred strong - complete with army men and national guards and even what looked like some local, small town police. This was, of course, expected - any time the *President* of all the Confederate States passed through your town, you couldn’t just let him go by, it’d be taken as a grievous slight. \n\n“Pa! Pa! Ma! Johnny! Robbie! They’re here! They’re here!”\n\nBrian slid down the roof of the Red Barn, lept off the edge, and did a neat little tumble-roll onto a bale of hay and onto the old, worn dirt. \n\n“Brian! Now *what* have I done told you up a thousand times about your darned *climbin?!*”\n\nKate Stark stood tall over her second-youngest son and looked down on him with a face as cross as a Christian. \n\n“Uh...er...sorry, Ma, but they’re here! They’re here! They’re really here!”\n\nAt the sound of her boy’s wild excitement, the anger quickly faded away. “Alright, boy, I know. Go run and tell your Pa.”\n\nBran sprinted through the barnyard and up on over to the big white ranch house as fast as his little legs would take him. His father was already there, sitting on an old rickety rocking chair, a calm, cool expression on his face. \n\n“Pa,” gasped Brian, “They- They’re- They’re here!”\n\nEdd Stark didn’t meet his son’s gaze, but instead kept blankly staring off into the distance, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Brian stared at him, the wide grin he had just been wearing a second ago beginning to slide right off his peachy face. His father remained quiet, looking to be lost in a deep thought. \n\nFinally, he came out of the trance. \n\n“It’s true then, boy? Well, alright. Guess we’d best go and greet ‘em proper. Gather you’re siblin’s, boy. And remember - *Winter is comin’*.”" ]

[ 1, 1, 2, 8, 18, 154 ]

[ "1403362494", "1403365907", "1403364977", "1403361583", "1403361338", "1403359685" ]

[ "*This prompt is fucking awesome* \n\n\"Damn this jacket looks so badass,\" Joe thought as he drove home with it on his lap. He had bought it for merely $10 just moments ago from the local thrift shop. He had a lot of trust in that thrift shop, he bought his GameCube a year ago from there for only $20. \"They basically give stuff away!\" he would tell his friends. He parked his car in the garage and walked upstairs to his room, but not before pouring some hot sauce into his sleeping friend's coca cola like he always does. He walked in front of his mirror and slowly put the brown leather jacket on. \"Damn, I look so awesome,\" he said to himself. Then the feeling kicked in. A sick, nauseous feeling, that made Joe feel as though he was about to vomit. He slammed a fist onto the counter and clutched his stomach.\n\nThe walls began to move. Up and down, left and right, in all directions, his surroundings moved. \"What... The fuck... Is happening,\" Joe said right before he projectile vomited onto the mirror in front of him. The mirror and counter remained unmoved, as if they were a part of Joe. After a few minutes that felt like hours, the moving stopped. Joe slowly opened his eyes to the sight of his vomit dripping from the mirror in front of him. \"Oh god... What the hell?\" \n\nJoe looked around. He wasn't in his bathroom, which was quite shocking to Joe. If appeared to be a public restroom, with the toilet stalls behind him. It smelled horrible, like dirty wet socks filled with cow shit. \"Ugh, fuck,\" Joe said. He looked into the mirror after the vomit dropped to the counter. Joe had a different appearance than before. His skin was more tanned and he had a beard. Joe hated beards. After spending five minutes regaining his balance, he walked out into the bright day. \n\nHe was right about before, it was a public restroom. Joe was not familiar with his surroundings. \"Wha.... Where am I?\" \n\n\"You're in Pearl Harbor,\" a voice said from behind him. \n\n*Eh, I don't know if I should finish it! So tell me if I should.* ", " \"There's just something... personal.. about it,\" he remarked, reverently handing the dusty leather jacket to me. An older gentleman, no younger than sixty-five, but nonetheless quite handsome in his own way. The furrows in his face ran deep across his forehead, below the eyes, and perpendicularly to his gentle smile, which revealed a set of well-groomed teeth. His hair, neatly combed, rested level atop his head, awash with streaks of grey intermingled with brilliant white. As if his looks weren't enough, he smelled strongly - but not unpleasantly - of Aqua Velva. To complete this already dashing portrait, the gentleman displayed a battered pair of antique aviators, folded neatly into the collar of a well worn flannel shirt. \n\n By now, I had been shopping in his thrift store for nearly three years, purchasing faded jeans and ratty t-shirts brazenly displaying veritable insignia of rock and blues musicians. I had some time to kill before work, so I decided to see if the gentleman had found anything new. The store itself was quite sparsely decorated: the gentleman who owned it wished to stand in obvious contrast to his quiet corner of the world, walled in by soft pastels and racks of old clothing. To further strengthen the motif, the floor was left unswept, and dust silently collected on any available surface. \n\n The ambience, however, was not why I chose to shop here so often. Rather, it was the gentleman's impeccable taste for clothing, both old and new.\n\n And it was here that I first discovered this airman's jacket, silently fading away amidst a wardrobe stuffed full of winter coats. It was this juxtaposition of leather amongst the wool and poly-cotton that caught my eye. I immediately plucked my newfound treasure from its grave, and took a moment to eye it lovingly.\n\n It was an old A-2, carefully maintained by its previous owner, though not so carefully preserved by the original wearer. The coat had multiple discolorations in its seal-brown leather where it was re-dyed to hide stains or worn areas. There were several small cuts around the sleeves and elbows. The two straps on the shoulders were both clearly worn. A large, faded painting of a Dauntless dive bomber could be seen on the back of the jacket, but it had long ago lost its hue. \n\n All these imperfections, however, only added to the undeniable character of the jacket. After all, with all the minor damage to the leather, it was clear that this article had seen action. Upon finishing my inspection, I carefully put one arm through a sleeve, and shrugged it on slowly. The leather, softened by use, fit beautifully along my shoulders, and the sleeves tapered off neatly just above my wrists. It fit wonderfully, and I immediately asked the gentleman how much he wanted for the jacket. \n\n After purchasing the jacket, I retired to a quiet spot just outside my hangar. I sit against a concrete divider, taking in the cool autumn breeze, and wondering just who the man was that first owned this jacket. What sort of a character was he? Images of a brave, handsome young officer, grinning widely as he sits astride a wing of his menacing air machine immediately flood into my mind. Daring night missions, illuminated only by the light of tracer rounds and exploding flack pierce this image, quickening my heart and tantalizing my mind's eye. Laughter from a small table in a rowdy inn somewhere in France bring me to a smile as my imaginary hero sits, triumphantly raising a pint with his fellow airmen to celebrate another successful operation. And lastly, I feel the warmth in my bones as I see my aviator returning home, greeted in front of his family home by all those he loves dearly. \n\n I smile, and, finishing my daydream, I stand up, stretch, and begin walking towards my beautiful blue Cessna resting quietly beneath a steel awning. I'm greeted by the familiar buzz and drone of civilian air traffic, singing a familiar and comforting sonnet above me. " ]

[ 5, 5 ]

[ "1403396951", "1403413161" ]

[ "NSFW\n\nThere’s been nothing but the pixelated silhouette of a black leather chair in the frame for damn near 4 hours. Something will happen. He knows something will happen. He’s waited too long for nothing to happen.\n\nThe light switch click startles him. His bloodshot, blurry eyes need to focus now. He cleans off his glasses on his Dorito crumb One Piece shirt. He sees her… God he sees her.\n\nKlarisa Kliesden, star of the hit show Catching the Kliesden’s. She is beautiful. An Angel. He squeaks in anticipation. She moves out of frame and a green blouse flops onto the brown leather chair. He is dizzy, he almost forgets to start recording the webcam.\n\nShe is out of frame for 3 agonizing minutes, then like the rarest creature on earth caught on a camera she moves into the shot… fully nude.\n\nHis lust is thrust aside abruptly when he sees the gun. She holds it limply in her hand as she hunches over the bed crying. “NO, don’t!” he yells at his HD monitor.\n\nHer sobs grow louder. He shouts louder. She sits up straight, her perfect breasts fully taught and quivering. The gun is on her chin.\nWith an inhuman dexterity, he dials her private line. He whispers in a whimper “pickup pickup pickup”. He hears the ring through his computer speakers. She puts the gun to her side and moves to the desk so that only her tan-lined thigh is in the shot.\n\n“Hello, who is this?”, she doesn’t sound like she’s been crying at all. She’s such a great actress.\n\n“Listen! Don’t do it! I can see you through your computer webcam… I just want you to know how much I love your show…”\n\n“STOP WATCHING ME!”\n\nBLAM!", "This is so easy; I barely took a breath to get in. I smiled as I clicked and clacked my way through to find programs this victim uses on a regular basis. Perhaps the victim put some money I could use. As I pulled out the tasks list to try and find programs that are frequently used, I noticed that a task is currently active is a web cam. I clicked on it and it brought up a window, a young adult woman sat there staring at the web cam.\n\n“I just… I just have enough.” She spoke into it, Despite the potato quality of the web cam, I could see her make up running from her eyes. “I try so hard, I tried to face my fears. I even put on these-“ She pointed to her face. “- just to try and maybe impress someone enough that they would come talk to me.\n\nI quirked a bit, it’s a vlog of some sort. Poor lunatic doesn’t even know I’m watching her. I closed the window and continued to try and find frequently used programs. I arrived at her documents, I paused, hovering my mouse over *My Videos.* Should I? I thought. I clicked the mouse and there was a whole array of videos, each of them time-stamped. I randomly clicked one of them and watched through of it.\n\nThe video was basically about her moping about being alone, how she feels like making the vlog gives her some feel of interactions with someone else. She said she was going to try and stop, but she also said she doesn’t know if she was willing to stop. I clicked another video and this time she talked about suicide. Nothing provides the reason for her to live. She’s all alone at work, no one wants to hang around with her, and she gets home and does nothing all evening. Her parents are dead, so she doesn’t have that option.\n\nYet another video, this time she said that she doesn’t want to quit because she doesn’t want to die the way she is now. She wants to die having friends. I felt touched; it’s not easy trying to make friends with people, especially since everyone I’m around doesn’t know computers as well as them not wanting to bother with it. So I’m all isolated with my computer.\n\nI went back to the live web cam, and her bedroom is fully lit, she’s sitting on the far side of the room, potato quality makes it hard to tell if she’s crying or not. But it wasn’t terrible that I could clearly see a faint outline of a noose hanging from the blinding light that flickers. Today’s the day.\n\nI entered some commands to allow me to fully take control of the computer on her end, I clicked Word Document and typed in “I’ll be your friends.” But she didn’t budge, instead she climbed on top of her chair and wrapped the noose around her neck. I deleted the phrase I typed, went to font size and oversized the number. As soon as I tried to type “Stop.” She knocked over the chair. I quickly went to her settings and tried to find her location. I found a rough location and I picked up the phone.\n\nBut two things stopped me. One, it was too late, the cops take forever to get to places, so I have no doubt that they won’t get to her on time, and two, I hacked into her computer. I illegally did this, if I call in, I’m in trouble with no rewards such as saving someone’s life. I slowly set the phone down, close down everything and crawl to bed. I start to cry myself to sleep" ]

[ 3, 3 ]

[ "1403660625", "1403662498" ]

[ "My fired shots hung in the air. Time seemed to stand still. Everyone had hoped it wouldn't come to this. The enemy frontline stood only a few meters away. They were just like me: young, scared, and only following orders. \n\nThis wasn't meant to happen. We weren't ordered to fire. We had stood there for so many agonizingly tense minutes, that when I heard that noise- I don't even know what it was- instinct just took over. I needed to survive. My finger squeezed the trigger.\n\nI watched the young man in front of me drop to his knees in a pool of his own blood. \n\nAll hell broke loose.", "The invention of fi-blue technology had dramatically reduced bandwidth problems from oldschool wifi. Upload and download speeds had increased a thousand fold.\n\n\nAnd now, I can hardly wait to get my hands on the newest model. I pull it out of the box lovingly.\n\n\n\"Ah....my very own fi-red.\" I cannot help but feel pure contentment setting it up.\n\n\n-Sorry, I could not resist." ]

[ 2, 3 ]

[ "1403703515", "1403702238" ]

[ "A deafening roar blasts from my impressive maw. I feel the hot, putrid air rise from my stomach. My large tail slaps the ocean, side to side, and I steel up the other beast just in front of me. Ok, not so bad. He's an ugly brute, sure, but I don't much give a damn if my rival is good looking and what. His claws are the size of sickles, yeah. He could flatten a garbage truck with his feet, so? All of my confidence stirs within me, and the charge the mug. Our scaled arms grip one another, muscles bulging with great effort. I bite into his rough, dense neck, and the taste of radioactive monster blood fills my mouth. A pesky metal fly controlled by puny beings, buzzing very loudly, is flying in between us during this battle. I would very much like to swat the thing but that would require letting go of my enemy. More metal insects surround us, and I see groups of the tiny, pink, squishy, thumb-ed creatures. They yell and scream at the sight of me, more of their metal fly's surrounding me. Great! Fans.", "I stomped through the streets of the city searching desperately for her. After the incident at the beach I had lost track of her and she had disapeared into the crowds of people fleeing from me. I was a normal man once and we loved each other her and I. I knew that if anyone could help them see me as a human being and not a towering monster it would be her. As I stepped over a city block I knew in my heart that it was hopeless, to find one woman in a rapidly emptying city was impossible and besides that she probably didn't even want to be near me anyway. I could hear the jets coming at me their missiles locked and loaded ready to take me out before I could do more damage. Yet as I resigned myseld to my gloomy fate I saw a lone figure halfway across the city it was her! What was she thinking, the army was coming and there were probably nukes ready to shoot as a last resort. It was too late for me and I knew it but if they where reckless enough to put her in danger who knows how many people they are going to make collateral damage. It was at that moment that I knew exactly what I needed to do.", "You know, all I wanted to do today was relax. Sleep in a bit, catch up on my reading, maybe eat some Japanese later. But noooooo, someone had to go and wake me up.\n\nI mean, sure, this is my job, but it's my day off. That was in the contract: one day off per month. It's a pretty sweet perk, along with the dental and medical plan. Gotta keep these teeth sharp, and reattaching limbs is hard to do myself.\n\nI already called the Boss, but he says I don't have a choice and, sorry, but they can't even pay me overtime for it. Apparently someone misread the timesheet and woke up the other guy a little early too, so we're stuck. Maybe we can go to the Underground Bar and get beers when we're done. The Aliens and Predators have their weekly matchup, and I've got the Aliens taking it by 4.\n\nWell, nothing to be done for it, I suppose. I think I'll throw this low-end Civic at him first. We're told the governments all got together and complained about the cost of our fights, so the higher ups are trying to get us to minimize our damage. They put posters up and everything. You know, \"A cheap car is just as effective!\". Which is fine, I guess, but it would help if they didn't keep scheduling us to fight in urban areas. I put in a suggestion that we maybe try for a nice field one day, but apparently that's \"just not interesting\".\n\nAh, there he is. \n\n\"ROOOOOOOAR!\"\n\nYes, yes. The traditional trash-talking session. Some of these guys just aren't good at the insults, but the new training manuals should help.\n\n\"ROOOOOOOOOOOOAR!\"\n\nReally? A joke about my mother? I'll have you know she was a lovely lady, with the most beautiful fur.\n\nWait, why is that human running towards us? I swear, some of these people are morons. We've also been told to try to limit how many people die, but sometimes they make it a little hard for us to avoid. Yeah, see? That idiot just got stomped on. \n\nBut I guess it's my turn. I think I'll insult his mother, too. Seems only fair. Here goes...", "This world had changed. Not for the better.\n\nThe great worm remembered how it had been, once. Thick, cloying jungles of heat and chattering sound, filled with sticky, wet mud and teeming lizards. The small and the large - oh *yes*, the *large* - that stalked through trees and slithered through cold seas. He remembered, as time and growth went on, how the large had become small and the small had become not much at all. He remembered, eventually, foreboding ceilings of collapsing trees and roaring waves surging out of his path, and the smell of fear from the lizards as he opened his jaws to reveal stretching mandibles, and walls of uncountable teeth.\n\nThere had been no lizards since his Waking. There had been something big in the water, at the start - all meat and blubber and rubbery skin, that balmed the ache in his teeth as he managed to *chew* a few times before the sludge of it slaked down his throat. A few small things floating on the surface had been dragged down by a sudden riptide and fallen into jaws, and eventually the worm had followed these breadcrumbs to their source, on the surface. \n\nHe had found a new jungle. Waves had torn chunks loose and slapped the ground to herald his presence, and the Hunger that constantly pressed at the back of his multitude of eyes drove him forward, with stabbing, mortal pangs. The great centipede lumbered inland, the towers that served as trees crumbling and sliding down his chitinous legs with every step. \n\nThe prey, such as it was, scurried in streams of tiny dots between the towers, spilling around his infinity of legs. He gave half-hearted snaps at the towers. Every so often, through the fog of smoke and gore and fear, the worm would stoop, and his mandibles would stretch across streets to scoop in puddles of fleeing humanity. He supped from the seas of tiny prey, and felt weak pulses of satisfaction as they tumbled down his throat. \n\nFlying insects hovered around him, whirring, blasting inches off his chitinous armour. Green insects, slithering through the rubble like he did and almost big enough for him to see their shape, flared and fired volleys of almost-pain into his infinity of knees. Spurts of acidic venom drooled from his mandibles, thick and pus-yellow and sizzling, and the insects were mostly a thick, sludging soup even before he stooped down to eat them.\n\nThere was nothing to *chew*. Nothing to *digest*. No meat to hunt. Instinct and the Hunger prodded him into trudging forward, shrugging off the city around him, but perhaps the seas hid better prey in their depths. Follow the ripples, to the blubber and the floating -\n\nAnd then, suddenly, a booming roar. \n\nThe worm noticed, dimly, that the seas of prey were beginning to change their current. Now some of the streams were trickling *towards* him, barely realising their error before they were scooped up by another bite from his sky-sized maw. But the light was shifting, treacherously, in the billowing smoke, and some terrible shadow was shoving its way forward, and looming *over* him.\n\nIt was a *lizard*. A stooped, lumbering thing with wings furling at its back like a cape. It shoved aside a tower with one of its many arms, sending the thing cascading into some more before they were obscured entirely by the billowing dust. Its own jaws opened, and *flared*.\n\nThe worm had a second to tense before plasma burst down upon it like the wrath of a vengeful god. Chitin was scorched away, and the nerves beneath it screamed pain right to the insect's mind. It was hot, hotter than the hottest jungle, and some of the centipede's extraneous flesh oozed down its plating from the pressure.\n\nThen it stopped. The lizard needed time for a second blow. The smell of cooked flesh searing from the worm's own back tickled its nostrils and stroked its belly. The Hunger growled. The lizard's must have too - it lunged forward, crocodile jaws worrying the chitin as it tried to pry it loose entirely.\n\nIt was a moment of kinship, of something he *knew* - more than he'd felt for anything in this world thus far. His mind roared with the hunt, and *liked* it, as the worm's head reared up towards the lizard's underbelly. Mandibles tore loose soft flesh, pumping venom into muscle and fat and down into the veins. The worm chewed, and chewed, surging forward as the lizard fell back, and didn't want to stop.\n\nAs the lizard struggled its last beneath him, he decided that he liked *it*, too. ", "**Long**\n\nSomething returned the call.\n\nNot something metallic, created by the peach and brown beings that covered the world, but something organic. Not a whale, sending out a beautiful chorus through the ocean, but something massive. Not an aged call, maturely and expertly woven to send a signal conveying a profound message, just a scream.\n\nI leaned out of the soft current I rode on and aligned myself in a new direction. Much to my surprise the creature was seemingly only few thousand lengths of myself away. A distance I would cover in no time at all as I shifted my body through the deep water to build speed as the petty small sea life scattered in every direction.\n\nSo small, some of them they bounced off my body and the scent of their blood entering the water was the way I knew they had even struck me. So pathetic were the creatures of this world, that quivered in my presence, attempting to carve out a meaninglessly short life in the abyss.\n\nI reached the waters surface, my scales piercing it as I brought my head above momentarily, just to glimpse the pale blue sky and catch a view of the horizon. The sky, the sea, the horizon. The only things I considered more powerful than myself, everything else was so weak, so fragile and tiny despite their attempts at violence. \n\nAs I soared through the waters my calls bounced back from all around. Although not audible to most creatures, the noise I made gave me far-reaching eyes in my marine home, shouting back where existed every shark, whale and metal shell. Right now I felt metal shells moving to re-align themselves with my body, the bipedal beings of the Earth scurrying to gaze at my large body yet again.\n\nI often wondered what they tried to communicate, how they thought or even what they wanted. To have wrestled control from the world they must possess intelligence far beyond any other animal I've come in contact with, yet even as I tried to call to their ships they simply echo back. Their metal shells crudely shouting into the sea to find where I am but unable of anything grander. If only the bipeds themselves could speak on the level that I could, maybe then they would be able to understand.\n\nBursting onto the land I saw the waves flatten their toys as they ran screaming and yelling in every direction. At least, I assumed that was their cries of desperation, as they were so quiet I don't believe I could hear them if they spoke normally. I saw them gesture angrily at me, gesture to draw attention and gesture ways to escape my incredible size, and the roaring waves that heralded my coming. \n\nCrushing the paths they built under my feet I once again found myself curious as to how irritated they were by my presence. I was aware they saw more with their eyes than they heard with their ears - as made obvious by their obsession with pointing - but did that mean they cared more for the toys and territory I made my mark on? If only my very existence didn't seem to spark such heavy emotions in the bipedals then maybe I would be interested in trying to learn to talk to them. I had observed them in secret before, watching them like a child watches the fish, but whenever I appeared they became so much louder and active.\n\nThe scent of the creature filled my lungs as I breathed in the disgusting land air and I saw the creature climbing up a nest building of the bipeds. Despite my indifferent attitude towards the bipeds, even I knew to smash their nests was rude. I heaved and bellowed out a challenging roar that shook the nests around me, shattering some of the more fragile materials the bipeds used in their construction.\n\nThe hairy beast growled back, snarling and screaming. \n\nA filthy immature threat, I could not let such a brute pollute **MY world**. \n\nI closed the distance, doing my best to avoid destroying too many of the many complicated nesting buildings the bipeds used, but my opponent gave no such care, rampaging over the stone and metal structures between us. Such ignorance to act like the bipeds didn't exist, such arrogance to claim superiority at such a young age. This miserable excuse for an animal insulted me by his actions alone regardless of the hideous appearance he brought with him, despite how offensive that was also.\n\nHe leaped off a nest towards me, his large arms raised above his stumpy head as he attempted to roar.\n\nI lumbered to the side as I took account of his strengths. Long arms that reached almost the length of his whole body and held a tremendous width, speed that let him move twice as fast as my powerful self and a blatant disregard of his environment.\n\nHe pounded the ground next to me, tearing up the darkened ground as I threw my body back towards him using my enormous weight to send him straight through a nest.\n\nFor me to win this fight, I too would have to disregard my environment. I could only hope the bipeds would understand that their vastly complicated nests would have to suffer.\n\nI tried to stomp on his foot but he pulled himself back and too his feet before I could even straighten myself. He swung his humongous arms and caught my jaw, pain shooting through my long neck as I felt the force attached. Another blow hit me in the chest as he tried to grapple me.\n\nHe was stronger than I thought.\n\nI felt anger build in me and I sunk my enormous teeth into his shoulder. The creature screamed as his grapple instantly weakened, with one of his arms in immense pain. I sunk them in deeper as I tensed my whole body, lifting from legs the muscles of my necks screamed as I lifted him off his feet and into the nearby towering nest. \n\nHe smashed into it with thundering force and I felt the ground shake as he landed, the tall nest swaying as it attempted to deal with the impact also. I pushed myself forward charging into my enemy as he rose, attempting to have him crushed by the nest if I could. But as he ground up against the creaking nest he slammed both his giant fists into my shoulders, making me buckle, setting him up to swing around his right arm and punch me so hard in the jaw I felt myself thrown back.\n\nStumbling back I tried to regain my ground, but it was too late as the shaggy monster lunged at me with surprising strength and sent me sideways through several smaller nests. As I landed, I felt him land near me, his lunge costing him his footing. I felt my titanic body groan as I pushed myself up before he could get above me and lay into me as I feared I would never be able to prevent such an onslaught. He was ready before I was however and again grappled me, punching me here and there. \n\nI felt slight panic realising that my previously unstoppable strength could have been out-matched by this savage's speed. I needed to take advantage of my own strengths but I couldn't escape his grasp. My rival got cocky however and pushed me away, going for large sweeping blows, that despite their power left me with much larger gaps of opportunity. I raised my face from my defensive stance pretending to bite and clenched as the blow struck me sideways, but I harvested the momentum to swing around my whole body having my great tail hit him with a force so loud the air cracked.\n\nThe wretched thing was lifted off his feet and sent soaring. He crashed to the ground, rolling over many nests and sending ground and dust in every direction. \n\nI knew what I needed to do now.\n\nUtilising the nest locations I lined myself up with my opponent so that an open chasm was available to him. I knew that the fool would take the chance to charge me, so I leaned forward letting out a terrifying roar. Taunting my opponent. Insulting him with my bellowing voice. \n\nHe snarled and growled back as he brought himself to all fours, prepping himself for the imminent charge.\n\nI leaned back, my body building up as the monster shifted his own, the fire in my stomach pulsed throughout my scales and skin as I bore my chest to the beast. \n\nThe roaring animal rocketed forward.\n\nAnd I realised the powerful fires of my ancestors at him like a raging current. The blue flames washing over his face as he screamed in horrendous pain.\n\nThe fire overtook his face and his howling body came ripping towards me as he collapsed in agonsing pain but found himself totally unable to prevent the colossal momentum he had built as his body came to a stop at me feet.\n\nI unceremoniously raised one foot and brought my whole weight crashing down upon his burning face. \n\nCrunch.\n\nAnd the fool was defeated. \n\nI smirked before taking a step back to roar, verbally sounding my success to the world louder than a volcano could hope to muster.\n\nI had had stronger opponents.\n\nThe quiet shouts of happy bipeds filled the air as I passed them towards the sea.\n\nTo them I must some sort of grand guardian. Maybe defeating these threats excuses me for the damage I cause to them and their homes.\n\nFrankly I didn't care.\n\nThey were just small fish that bounced off my scales. I only cared about keeping myself alive. They could do what they wished. ", "Hungry \n\n*Holy crap, you're awake. I thought I was stuck on the bottom of the ocean in a carcass that refused to rot due to being the brilliant invention of a mad scientist forever. I still don't know why I couldn't move the body at all with you gone. I mean, it wouldn't be terrible being stuck in this over-sized monstrosity of a body if he had given me control of this... Thing that I ride in the brain of. \"Hey, assistant\" he told me,\"come help me with this experiment!\" And of course, I did it. Amazing what we students are willing to do for a good reference. I just wanted to get my doctorate and eeeveryone talked about his ability to get students he liked into any school.*\n\nHungry\n\n*Sorry, big'uns. I'm really happy to have someone to talk to since I haven't had anyone for awhile and good GRIEF, you just ate a blue whale really quickly. Which makes sense. We've gone the last 30 years without eating. Man, I thought we were dead. Sitting on the ocean floor after that nuke hit us definitely made me wonder what happened. And why I could still think. Assuming I'm thinking and not a dream.*\n\nHungry\n\n*Then eat something else, idiot.*\n\nHungry \n\n*Oooh, hang on. I don't know if getting out of the ocean is good. You remember what happened last time humanity saw us? Everything they threw at us hurt like a bitch! I don't want to go through that again.*\n\nHungry\n\n*I don't know why I'm arguing. You've never listened to me before and, as we both are aware, I can't do a damn thing to stop you.*\n\nHungry\n\n*Ya, I know. These people really do taste good. Is this cannabalism? I'm not sure if I qualify as human anymore. Whatever, if this makes you happy then do it.*\n\nHungry\n\n*You pretty much just ate a city. Was that Miami? I don't know if I'm more disturbed or impressed. Are you full now? No? I suppose I understand, three decades will build up an appetite.*\n\nHungry \n\n*I still can't figure out how you, how we, digest everything. I mean, we just ate a bunch of trees and rocks. I'm not bothered, just curious as to-sonofaBITCH that hurt! What was that???*\n\nHungry?\n\n*I don't know, I'm trying to-OW, there it is!*\n\nHungry?\n\n*I'm... It's a giant... Monkey-crocodile-bat fusion? I don't know but it's throwing buildings at us.*\n\nHungry!\n\n*Well then. If your hungry, I happen to be looking at something that might be edible. That just threw a damn cruise ship at us. Ouch.*\n\n... Hungry?\n\n*Eat it.*\n\n... Hungry. \n\n*Eat it.*\n\n**Hungry**\n\n*EAT IT.*\n\n**HUNGRY**\n\n*Oh, damn. I don't think that is supposed to bend like that, oh my. Well I'm sure it didn't need that arm. Or that wing. And I suppose we didn't need that tentacle. Or that third tail. But it probably needed that section if it's... What is that, a thorax? Oh my, those eyes pop really easily. Ya, bitch! Thought you could fight me? Fight US? DO YOU KNOW WHO WE ARE?*\n\n**HUNGRY**\n\n*DAMN STRAIGHT. THIS IS OUR WORLD NOW.*\n\n***HUNGRY***" ]

[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 5, 7 ]

[ "1403726835", "1403745804", "1403747967", "1403763775", "1403730733", "1403730005" ]

[ "I dont really write, but perhaps I can give additional scenario to someone who wants to write on my Behalf.\n\n\n\nI was sitting on an asphalt road five minutes ago. In Mississauga, a stones throw from hwy 407&Mavis road. I saw a menancing red fireball fly at my truck. Now, I am surrounded by forest. Maybe I died? But if I died, why am I sitting in my work truck...\n\n\n\n\nSitting confused in my E350 Ford Work Van. I check to see what I have; Full tank of diesel, sewer inspection equipment(500ft of plastic incased copper wire, computer, power inverter, tractor, camera, a power inverter that runs off the alternator, pick axe, sledge hammer), a lighter, lunch for the day and my best friend/coworker.\n\n\n\n\nHow in Gods name did I get here? And what do I do now...", "Day One: June/24/2014\nI.\nThe old dirt hills are back and the plots are barren again. I remember playing there when I was nine years old before they were leveled out to make room for Old Bob and the rest of the neighbors from that side of the road. They're gone now. Everyone is gone. The rest of the house is gone, the cars, the truck, the barn, the fences, all of those are gone. E 1/4 road is gone without even a phantom trace to tell that it had ever been. The telephone poles have been swallowed up. So this is Clifton, Colorado. Did it ever exist? \n\nI know where I am because the Bookcliffs still tower above the high plains. To the west the mountains remain stark and rocky. To the east is the Grand Mesa with its surface verdant and clean. To the south...it doesn't matter. I'm going to head towards the river, and follow that. If there is another human being left in the world, I'll find them there.\n\nII.\nI've never been happier to be a smoker. I started this fire with the lighter I stole from Emily...when she came up from Louisiana. Which raises an interesting question. Mom and them. Are they gone, too? The battery in my phone is going to die by morning. It's going to make the walk to Denver that much harder. I wonder if...\n\nI left the computer jack in my nonexistent bedroom. Yep. It's going to die. I guess this is the last time i'll hear anyone croon \"It's all over now...baby blue.\" Not a big loss, I guess. What's going to be a big loss is the last of my club crackers. If i'm the last person alive...I'm going to drown myself in this river.\n" ]

[ 1, 3 ]

[ "1403784497", "1403764830" ]

[ "It was simple, really. Mark A,B,C,or D. At the end, I was asked to write down my input. I wrote that my input was that I could not fathom of how knowing what letter to choose meant you were rich. Simple test, complex for some, but it only filters out few people away from a middle class social status.\n\nI was then put in charge of making the tests.", "As on every Futures Day, stone-faced Government Affinity Reps trekked between the towering apartment blocks. Bags hung at their shoulders filled with letters addressed to each of the 10 year olds living in housing complexes C2 through C15. Each Rep remembers the day they received their own letter and know how important this task is, a fact accentuated by the hand delivery of real paper letters, as opposed to direct digital message.\n\nAt every door, subdeci families living near street level waited anxiously for their deliveries and Reps greeted them with indifference or outright contempt. While the Reps hated the subdecis, they loved and feared the superdecis who lived high above in the luxury sky aparatment. They knew that, as 10's themselves, they were inferior to the superdecis and accepted the abuse they suffered, as those above them were always just, as they were just to those below themselves.\n\n\nAaron Ramirez had watched his parents abuse these Reps his entire life. When his older brother's letter had arrived his father had joked, \"You better score well, Paulo, or you'll end up a waste of space like this glorified mailman!\"\nAaron did not know what a mailman was, but from how his mother and grandparents laughed, and the nervous and hurt but polite smile that crossed the Delivery Rep's face, a mailman was either something very funny or very bad.\n\nToday was Aaron's Futures day, and he was nervous. His brother Paulo had scored a 15 and his parents, who were both 14's themselves, had been overjoyed, but Aaron was not as confident. He had never excelled in anything academic like Paulo and the testing that had lasted 12 hours had confused him from start to finish. His parents had not picked up on how he was feeling, and they were already in celebration mode as they heard the tone sound from the doorbell. \n\nAs his father made jokes about the Rep at the door Aaron could barely think straight. \n\nPlease be at least 12. 11 even. He thought. 11 is still superdeci. 11 is alright.\n\nScores like these would disappoint his parents but he knew he wouldn't disappear. He had heard one of Paulo's friends had scored well below his parents and was now no longer in school. What happened to him and other children like him was never discussed but the parents of children who scored low and remained at home were gossiped about relentlessly among his parents and their friends.\n\nAaron had to make it.\n\nAs his father closed the front door and handed him the letter, Aaron sprinted to his room, locking his door behind him. He had to know.. now. But didn't want to let everyone see. His family knocked at his door, still in a celebratory mood, assuring Aaron not to be nervous.\n\n\"Come out, sweetie.\" Crooned his mother. \"Don't be nervous.\"\n\nAt this Aaron tore open his envelope, ruining the pristine paper that many kept with them framed along with their number, marking the day that they officially entered the superdeci world.\n\nAaron did not enter the superdeci world that day, nor would he ever be able to. As he saw that plainly written number \"9\", the blood drained from his face. Silently he opened his window, and slipped through the bars that were their to keep him safe, and flung himself into the night.\n\nAaron was one of 14 suicides that Futures Day, and one of 119 that week, as subdecis raised by superdecis ended their lives, avoiding a humiliating, painful future.\n\n", "I looked over the paper for the third time, unable to take in the truth that was presenting itself to me in ink. \n\n\"This is a perfect score. A full two hundred marks...\"\n\nMy companion palmed at his mouth, trying to find some words to say but finding nothing.\n\nI continued. \"Has this every happened before? I mean, ever? In the history of the test?\"\n\nRobert continued to just look confused as he spoke \"I, I've heard of 190?\"\n\n\"Yes but that was just a rumour wasn't it? A lie sent to spark imaginations and keep up hope in the lower classes? Right?\"\n\n\"Well Oak I thought so too but now we're looking at a perfect test.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"We must have gotten at least one wrong-\"\n\n\"It's been through through 3 separate markers before it even got up to our offices, and you know fine well everyone under us has already double checked it.\"\n\n\"Yes but that's only 8 people, maybe-\"\n\nRobert cut me off. \"We need to call the GGI. There isn't any other option. We're out of our depth here.\"\n\nI picked up the test, holding up the last page to the light as if- \"Robert wait.\"\n\nOak looked back at me, still putting on his coat \"What?\"\n\nI pointed. \"He's left a message for the GGI, that you can only see if you hold it up to the light.\"\n\nThe statement hung in the air, like a damp cloth lying flatly over a washing line.\n\n*Question 24 is unfair if you've never heard about Gallians.*\n\n\"He also knows how to write...\" I stammered. The subject matter didn't concern me, who taught a common child how to write?\n\nRobert pulled across some paper and grabbed a quill, furiously writing down details. \"Oak, I'm making a note of this just now, this is like nothing I've ever seen. What was that boys name?\"\n\nI stood up, walking over to the window, looking out into the courtyard to look at a small, black haired boy \"Rui. Rui Gorlas.\"", "1) You are very hungry because your unemployed parents cannot afford to feed you breakfast, and due to the food shortage from the Crisis in the West, the Apple-Pill machine is offline. You find an Apple-Pill on the ground. Do you:\n\n* Eat the Apple-Pill\n* Report your parents\n* Pray for the soldiers fighting the West Coast insurgency\n\n2) It's three-thirty, time for your favorite show on the Republican Broadcast System. Your parents want you to finish your homework before you plug in. And, today is also Election Day and you have been designated as a Child Crisis Actor to assist your friendly SWAT team while they practice quelling the imminent riots. Do you:\n\n* Experience RBS in holoscopic reality, and then play your role in the imminent Election Day riot\n* Do your homework like your parents commanded? (Warning: Willfully ignoring your parents may lead to your arrest and subsequent trial as an adult)\n* Answer Hollywood's call and be a crisis actor\n\n3) Your friends Mac and Chez have told you about an unprotected port in the school bathroom. Do you:\n\n* Report your friends as likely terrorists\n* Report the unprotected port\n* Report your parents for sending you to an unsecured school\n\n4) A strange man from the government visits your classroom and passes out a pill to each student. He tells you the pill is to protect you from the Liberal thinking. Your friends Mac and Chez hide their pill and don't take it. After taking your pill, do you:\n\n* Report Mac and Chez as likely terrorists\n* Don't report Mac and Chez because they must be scheduled for catatonia\n* Report the students sitting next to Mac and Chez for not reporting them\n\n5) The most effective tool for quelling a student insurgency is a:\n\n* Hammer\n* Baseball Bat\n* 9mm Pistol\n\n6) Write an essay about why you think the US collapsed. Discuss why the militarized police of the West Coast are still fighting the New US military. Explain why the New US is the best place on Earth.\n\n7) In the following space, write how much you love your Dear Leader\n\nScoring\n\nThere are fifteen points possible on the exam, with a possible ten points of extra credit total for reporting suspicious test taking activity, parental violations, or suspected anti-Republican sympathies, for a total of twenty five points.\n\n* 0 - 3: Suspected anti-Republican sympathies. Schedule for \"Rebirth\".\n* 4 - 5: Stock Class. Future food supplier\n* 6 - 8: \"My People\" class. Does all the hard work. Very important job.\n* 9 - 10: \"My Beloved People\" class. Supervises \"My People\" class. Very, very important job.\n* 11 - 12: \"My Protectors\" class. Makes sure \"My People\" and \"My Beloved People\" are doing their jobs.\n* 13 - 15: \"My Pretty\" class. Reserved for the best looking women. \n* 16 - 17: \"My Pretty Pony\" class. This is a test. I like My Pretty Pony. Execute the teacher if a student scores this.\n* 18 - 19: \"My Proud People\" class. Own and run the businesses I want to shop in.\n* 20 - 21: \"My Family\" class. Reserved for important people.\n* 22 - 25: \"My 'Real' Family\" class. Must be related by blood.\n", "We call it the Test, the name of the person who invented it has long passed from societies collective memory, but everyone took it when they were 10 and it locks us into this weird social structure for the rest of your life. It gives you your income, it gives you your job, it gives you everything you apparently need.\n\t\nParents proudly dress their children in the best clothes they can afford, walk down with them to the testing halls and anxiously wait to hear if their child is destined to become a noble, a writer, an accountant or a scientist. It doesn't even matter if you know a thing about science, that's what you become.\n\t\nEveryone refuses to talk openly about the Test, referring to it only in veiled whispers, so that it becomes an object of legend for children, a great rite of passage. In fact, the test is very simple and little do most people know, it is the same for everyone. I remember my own vividly, it's difficult to forget.\n\t\nI was taken from my parents and led into a small sterilised room, there were three men gathered around a computer, each with clipboards, ready to take notes. I was sat at a table, on which there was an egg. That was it, there were no instructions, they just watched me.\n\nI asked questions and they refused to respond, they continued to watch me. After a while I cracked the egg on the side of the desk, letting the yolk run to the floor. I broke the eggshell up into small pieces making as many patterns as I could. After a while one of the men ordered me to stop, he took their notes and fed them into the computer, I was returned to my parents and we waited for the results.\n\t\nI achieved one of the best results possible, my parents were overjoyed, at the age of 16 I was given a flashy apartment and immediately began earning the largest salary society can provide. Most of society are subservient to me and I must appear as some sort of god, or mystic prophet to them. \n\t\nThese days I wake up, put on my white coat and head to work. I grab my clipboard and watch 10 year old children play with an egg in a small sterilised room. Nobody ever told me what the egg is for.\n", " I beat the system. Passing through the streets, I do not need to look where I step, and glancing around myself to ensure of that would be below my status as a High Lady. I do not need to see the lower casses, the mere Lords and Ladies, the Commons, Workers, Lessers or Scum. The Scum avert their eyes and make their way to the other side of the street, the cars of the Commons swerve around me as I pass through the street. A brief moment of eye contact with a High Lord I noticed in the park will probably be all the social contact I want to have today. I beat the system, the system that nobody is supposed to understand.\n\n It was the year 2112. I was ten years old. All the children in my class, in my neighbourhood, in my city, county and country born in the year 2102 were collected into the Class Assignment Society House. We were given our tools, two pencils and a lump of clay, but we were yet to be told what to do with them, as we were seated in pre-assigned pairs to a physics lesson far beyond our understanding. I was seated next to Markus, who had been a dear friend of mine since before we could speak. My parents had been Commons, as had his, though unlike mine, his grandparents had been Commons as well. I knew this, for he was allowed to speak of them.\n\n I had not known what the test would be, beforehand, but I had been determined to not fail. So as we were separated, I said my farewells to Markus, as happily as I could, before being led into the separate testing room. In the room - a mere box, now that I recall it - was only a chair, a table, and a note that explained the task: Use the clay and the pencils to shape an animal figure that can stand on its own legs. Use the pencils as legs.\n\n I beat the system.\n\n I passed the test with flying colours, becoming a High Lady, to be adopted by my current parents, who had also beat the system during their testing, some decades earlier. Being accepted into their society, I believe I became slightly more of a recluse than I had been as a child, for I understood what it would take to be a High Lady. Passing by a man of Scum on the street - kindly going out of my way to not step on him - I wonder what became of Markus, though I have given up on the delusion that he would ever forgive me.\n\nI had taken his pencils as well." ]

[ 4, 4, 6, 7, 9, 38 ]

[ "1403849466", "1403850509", "1403849697", "1403843298", "1403853749", "1403842457" ]

[ "It ate my dog.\nI have not been down my stairs in a week. They are the most terrifying aspect of my house. Every night, every dreary night in my upstairs prison, I will glance down to the bottom portion of my home. A portion I had missed, a portion I hadn't seen in days. I sometimes hear things down there. I sometimes hear them at the bottom of the stairs. They never climb the stairs, however. They know better.\n\nI owned a dog. It was a small dog, an old corgi bestowed upon me by my mother. She did not like the thing--the woman was not an animal person--but I adored it. And my dog was gone. \n\nIt had happened a week ago. The clock read nine fifty four and my eyes were heavy from a long day. My boss was a demanding fellow, and my workplace was a dilapidated office complex. Life was not too great since I moved out of my apartment and into the old house. I missed that life now. As I trudged up the creaky stairs, I stopped to whistle for my dog. There was a peculiarity, however. The creak my foot had made did not cease. It continued in a drone, a growl that was low and ominous. Frightened and confused, I called for my dog and made my way upstairs in a more rapid pace. The sound of my dog's pawsteps after my own steps were comforting. But they stopped. The creaking stopped. My dog whimpered, but that stopped too.\n\nIt ate my dog. They ate my dog. I don't know of they are one body, I don't know if this house is one body. All I know is that it plans on keeping me hostage; the phones do not work. Every night, I peer down those stairs, into the dark abyss that is my ground floor. I squint my eyes and quiver, for I know that there is something peering back at me.\n", "\"Mom, the stairs are having an orgy again!\"\n\nVeronica stomped out her door in her night robe. She hadn't been able to sleep in days because the stairs wouldn't stop fornicating each other in the middle of the night. She was beginning to regret buying a house that was previously owned by an evil Sex cult.\n\nThe stairs squirmed and thumped every night, and a mixture of voices would say things like, \"ohhh yeah, just like that,\" and \"yeah baby, spit on my corner thingy.\"\n\nJeff looked up at his mom and said, \"I really need to pee. I don't wanna pee on the stairs again. Last time it just made them go even crazier.\"\n\nVeronica had an idea. She grabbed a boombox from her room and blasted Jimmy Spurr's Greatest Polka Hits. The stairs groaned and fell silently into place. Jeff ran down the stares, his feet making small splash noises as he stepped in ectoplasmic semen. He finally got to use the bathroom.", "When James had bought this house, he always felt it was not quite right. While it had been obviously fixed up and cleaned, there were certain places that had been left untouched. Portraits depicting scowling gentlemen were lining every wall, and sometimes you'd get the feeling that they were following you with their eyes. Of course, if you looked back you would see nothing.\n\nAnother odd thing was the floor layout. Immediately after walking through the hallway you would come upon a marble staircase lining the wall all the way to the fifth floor. However, there were platforms and door lining the wall in the middle of the air! As if there should be stairs leading to them, but alas the staircase didn't even come close. James found all this confusing, but seeing as the house was so cheap, he bought it anyway. He and his wife did need the space with a son on the way..\n\n\nEleven years later things started to become even weirder. Throughout the years the stairwell had been the center of many little particularities. Sometimes James thought the doors to the different floors would switch places. He chalked this up to him just being confused by the maze-like corridors and doors that even after years of living here, he never quite understood. James and Lily had decided to mostly just use the bottom floor, seeing as it contained everything they needed. So they avoided the upper floors.\n\nTheir son, though, was a more curious boy. He loved reading fantasy and horror novels and would often go \"ghost hunting\" with his friend. He swore that he sometimes could hear moans, and that objects would start levitating when only he could see them, but his parents paid no thought to this. He was only a child, they reasoned. With a lively imagination.\n\nOne day, a week before their child's birthday something odd happened. Something impossible. They had decided to let their son pick his new room from any of the rooms upstairs. So with a very excited boy, the family climbed up the staircase to the first floor, where they found no room to their satisfaction. They heard and odd rumbling on their way back to the stairs, but assumed it was the wind. However, when they started the climb to the second floor instead of the familiar corridor with two doors (To a study, and to a guest bedroom), they found themselves in a new place. The paint on the walls had started to fall off, and flakes of maroon paint was lining the floor. There was only one door in this place, a heavy oak door with a brass handle.\n\nJames gave his wife a look as if to ask if he was the only one sensing something wrong with this, but as he did so his son gave a shout of \"I'm going to check that room!\" and ran to the door, opening it and disappearing into the darkness. James and his wife quickly followed him, and used the flashlight to quickly locate their child. He was standing in the middle of the room, seemingly watching something intently. \"What's wrong?\" Lily asked and walked over to where her son was standing. What was wrong became apparent. The room they had entered contained only one thing. A skeleton kneeling over a cauldron. It's hand grasping a wooden goblet, apparently frozen in it's attempt to take a drink from the contents. \n\n\"Don't look!\" Lily said and James rushed over. \"Let's go back down and call the police\" James said, and the family rushed out into the corridor, closing the door behind them. As they reached the door to the staircase though, that almost familiar rumbling was heard again, and as they opened the door, the stairs were nowhere to be found. Instead of reaching the platform on which the family was standing on, the stairs were lined up with the opposite wall. \n\n\"What is going on!?\" their son yelled, tears starting to emerge. \"I don't know.\" James said. \"How will we get down?\" his wife asked. \"Don't worry. I'll drop you on the stairs below. It's only a few meters. I'll hold onto you and lower you down.\" \n\nJames helped his wife down first, and then she caught their son when he came after. \"Go get me a ladder or something.\" James said, and his wife and child quickly descended the stairs in the search of a ladder.\n\nAs James was waiting on the platform, he heard a noise, slowly increasing in strength from behind him. It sounded a little like a clatter, like someone dropping a pencil or a fork on the ground repeatedly. As the sounds grew in volume, he decided to open the door to take a look. Inside was the skeleton, still holding it's goblet. It took a step towards him, and he took a step back to the edge of the platform. \"Drink\" it said and pushed the goblets into his face, but James let out a shreik and tried backing away, only to end up taking a step backwards onto a platform that wasn't there. James fell down to the bottom floor, hitting his back on the railing of the stairs and laid still.\n\n\n(Yeah, almost had to make an alternate ending, picks up after Lily and their son go down)\n\n\"Where do we keep the ladders?\" Lily asked their son. \"I don't know!\" he replied. \"Check the closet in the hallway.\" But as they approached the door to the hallway closet, they instead heard a noise. Someone was slowly and loudly knocking on their door. Knock. Knock. Knock. Three times before it went quiet. Lily started walking to open the door \"No mum, don't!\" her son whispered, but she paid him no mind and opened it. \"Yes..?\" she trailed off. Outside stood a giant of a man. At least twice as tall as a normal human, and three times as wide. \"'cuse me. Where do yeh have yer son?\" Lily shrieked and tried to slam the door, but the giant was already on it's way in. Instead she retreated and pressed her back up against the wall, frozen in shock. The giant walked up to their son, similarly frozen, and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a letter. He looked up in confusion at the giant man who only said \"Harry, yer a wizard.", "\"Bob. Bob! Hey, Bob! Come here a minute.\" \n\"Hold your horses, woman. What'da want?\" \n\"It's the stairs, Bob.\" \n\"The stairs? Work just fine. What's wrong with 'em?\" \n\"I'm not sure, Bob. Just... look at this.\" \n\"Right. Yeah. You're on the stairs.\" \n\"Okay. Right. Now, I'm going to walk *down* the stairs...\" \n\"No, you're moving upstairs!\" \n\"That's my *point*, Bob. I'm trying to walk down the stairs, but... look!\" \n\"Come on now, stair's ain't exactly got a complicated user interface. You go up, you go down. See? I'm going up just fine. Now, back down-- ah\" \n\"You see? You *see*?\" \n\"Well, paint me red and call me a barn, you're right! I can't go down the flippin' things.\" \n\"What are we going to do, Bob? We can never go downstairs again!\" \n\"Calm your farm, Barbra--\" \n\"*Brenda!*\" \n\"Brisket, right. Calm your farm, Brisket. We'll just go upstairs and, oh, phone our local pastor. He'll know just what to do, I'm sure of it.\" \n\"But... what if the stairs stop working that way too? What will we--\" \n\"Now you've gone got all hysterical on me. You see? Look, even Satan thinks you're being silly. Right, Satan?\" \n**\"It's true, Bella--\"** \n\"Brenda!\" \n**\"Splenda, right. It's true, you're being silly. They're just stairs, after all.\"** \n\"They're stairs that aren't working right, and now Satan's leaving fiery hoofprints on my carpet, and-- oh, Bob! Today is *ruined!*\" \n\"Well, dear, you really should have thought of that before you decided you absolutely needed a house with a granite kitchen bench and genuine antique dining chairs. The agent explicitly said this house came with at *least* 600% more Satan than any other house in the neighbourhood. Should have listened.\" \n\"Hmph.\" \n\"Sulk all you like, dear, that's just how it is. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go upstairs and take a nap. I think I've earned it.\" \n**\"Heh.\"** \n\"Damnit! Who put this portal to hell *right* where I always leave my shoes?\" \n**\"Whoops :3\"** \n\n*Camera swivels to focus on Satan, who winks exaggeratedly as the camera pinholes, then fades to black. Screams in the background as the stairs start to eat... whatever her name was.* " ]

[ 1, 1, 1, 1 ]

[ "1403848706", "1403849036", "1403851893", "1403859024" ]

[ "Jake opened the book he had bought at the flea market. It was old and dusty, but as he looked at its text, the inside was pristine. He felt himself being sucked into the book and before long he was standing in a forest, far, far away from his bedroom.\n\nJake was no longer holding the book, and as he looked around, he realized he was in some new world. The trees’ leaves occasionally became transparent, revealing a green sky, lit up not only by a bright sun, but tiny little dots of blue lights that looked like stars.\n\nFor the first few hours, he finally felt like life had handed him what he always wanted. He was no longer the boring, unpopular teenager of his world, but instead an explorer of a world of new sights and wonders. The effect wore off, though, as he found a town that looked like it was right out of a renaissance faire.\n\nHe discovered that the world he had stumbled upon was as boring and mundane as the one he left, save for the trees and the sky. In fact, it was basically like he had gone back to the renaissance era, nothing more than that.\n\nJake had to beg on the streets for food, stealing some when he could, and began to wonder how he could ever get back to the life he used to despise. Compared to this one, his old life sure seemed more attractive. The sun was beating down on Jake as he sat against a building. Another beggar came up and sat next to him.\n\n“Eh, hard life,” the beggar said. “Ya n’ t’e mo’d fer a story?”\n\nJake nodded and listened to the man. Although his significant lack of many of his teeth made him hard to understand, Jake was entertained by the story nonetheless. Apparently the world used to be a magnificent place, full of beauty and wonder. When it rained, harmless yellow sparks flew out of the raindrops that fell to the ground. When a rainbow appeared, the whole sky would become a rainbow. In some places, as if defying gravity, rivers would occasionally have spots that went straight up into the air, moved a few feet, then slowly came back to the ground.\n\n“What happened to everything?” Jake asked.\n\nWith sudden clarity, he could understand everything the man said.\n\n“People failed to notice the beauty in front of them,” the beggar said. “They moaned all day about things that were beautiful. They refused to appreciate the things this world had to offer them, so the world began to wilt, to hide the beauty from those whom don’t deserve it.”\n\n“Will it ever come back?” Jake asked.\n\nThe beggar chuckled. “It never really left. If you want to see it, the question is how badly do you want it? The person who not only wants to see the beauty, but also craves it, needs it, is the only one who shall ever see it again. Those who expect the world to give them a life, to give them reason and meaning, never see all that they truly have around them. Those who choose to take hold of their lives, to find meaning and reason, are the ones that can see so much more than they’d ever imagine is possible.”\n\nThe beggar stood up and began to leave. Jake just stared, puzzling over his words. He was content to sit in defeat, to be a beggar in a foreign land, but then he remembered the excitement he’d felt when he arrived in this world.\n\n“Wait!” he shouted to the beggar. “You… Do you know how to get out of here?”\n\nThe beggar slowly studied Jake.\n\n“Yes,” he replied.\n\n“How?” Jake asked, a rising excitement in him. He thought back to his old life, to the few friends he did have, to the things he enjoyed doing. He thought it was boring and mundane, but now he realized there was so much more. So much he never explored, so much he never gave a chance. He had to get back. He had to make something of his life.\n\nThe beggar never replied. Only for a moment, Jake saw him transform, a wise old wizard staring back at him. And then in a puff of smoke, the wizard was gone, and a large dusty old book came flying through the air. Jake caught it, but before opening it, looked around. The sights he saw amazed him. Stars were zooming through the skies. The wind occasionally had a red tint to it and the clouds above let out large sparks of all colors.\n\nJake opened the book and felt himself be sucked back into his normal, mundane life. But now, after all he’d seen, all he’d learned, he saw so much more in his own world. The sounds of the birds chirping, the clear blue sky, and everything else filled his senses like never before. For the first time in a long time, Jake felt alive.\n\n-176", "Back home, I used to waste hours browsing YouTube and Reddit. I battled dragons from my desk chair, screaming at idiots over vent and taking breaks for Cheetos and Code Red. School was boring as hell. Home was boring as school. Gaming was getting as boring as home. So when the old man showed up at the door and asked where I would go if I had the opportunity to go anywhere I could imagine, I glanced at the screen and said told him I’d go somewhere where dragons were real and I had magic powers. I was an idiot.\n\nSee, the first mistake I made was not stressing what powers I’d have. In my mind, of course I controlled the elements – fire and water and air and ether, bending them all to my will in a blaze of glory. Sure, there are mages that can do that here, a few at least. Of course, they stay in their towers and palaces and schools. I tried to get in, but I didn’t qualify. Seems someone didn’t think making people’s shadows move was quite up to their level. The guy laughed at me, sneered in my face. \n\nInstead, I’m training to be a knight, and, let me tell you, it’s no where near what I imagined. Sure, there’s a lot of swinging and slashing and yelling and beating the shit out of targets. But there’s also pulled muscles and bruising and cuts and no Band-Aids and no ibuprofen… or anything stronger. There’s beer, lots of beer, which was nice for a while, but when it’s the only thing you drink, it’s just… boring.\n\nI still haven’t seen a dragon. I won’t unless one burns down this miserable castle or I actually become a knight. I just learned it takes three *years* of training to get even close to a knighthood. I’m really starting to regret not finishing high school.\n\n---\n-173", "Jaw slack with surprise that quickly gave way to wonder, the youth stared up at the beautiful spiraling towers; the tamed, winged beast that showed in every color of the rainbow; and the tall, elegant people that surrounded him, moving as though in a completely ordinary environment. \n\nIt was the place of his fantasies, not at all disappointing to his expectations. Briefly, he thought of how he had come to be there, but almost immediately shoved those thoughts down. What did it matter? He was *there*.\n\nHe began to laugh, quietly at first, then loud and shrill. The exotic eyes of the fantastic people turned to him as they passed, some curious, most apathetic. Obvious as it was, he didn't notice the apathy, only the glamorous eyes set into the porcelain faces that were as artful as the city was incredible. \n\nA musical voice cut his mirthful laughter off. \n\n\"Pardon?\" he replied, as he couldn't hear the enchanting tone over his own joy.\n\n\"I asked if you're human, and it appears that you are. What are you doing here? Do you have the proper paperwork and credentials on hand?\" The enchanting voice belonged to a tall, fair-haired man. Handsome fell well short of describing him. Divine came closer to the mark. \n\n\"I-I'm sorry, what? I'm afraid I-\"\n\n\"You're an illegal, aren't you?\" His tone showed a hint of steel. \"Up against the wall, now. As if the approved among you weren't bad enough, we have to deal with you *filth* daring to sneak in!\" As strong as he was good-looking, he shoved the youth against the perfectly chiseled stone of the wall. \"I'm taking you to customs. I'll enjoy seeing you deported.\"\n\n\"Wait, I dont understand!\" The strange, alien youth screamed as he was roughly led down the immaculate streets of the brilliant city, for the first and last time.", "I thought I was going to end up in the throne room just as the king proclaimed that the land needed a hero. That's how I figured things were supposed to go. I mean, come on. Haven't you read the _books?_\n\nYeah, well, so did I.\n\nIt's nice to think about fantasy as crystal towers and mystical groves of trees and shimmering magical spells, but there's also another side to the genre, and that side includes peasants, farms, and piles of shit. Piles of shit that badly need to be shoveled. And this is what I am doing. I am shoveling shit.\n\nThe woman standing next to me whacks me on the head with a spoon. \"Hurry up, boy!\" she says. \"This shit needs to be all shoveled by supper. Else you'll get no supper!\"\n\nI look at the spoon. I think about its proximity to the shit. I am not sure if I _want_ supper. But I keep shoveling anyway.\n\nWell, I've got to say, if I had to choose between this and a 9-to-5 office job in a cubicle, it'd be a hard decision to make. \n\nI've also got to say: if a bearded old man comes up to you offering a portal to a distant other world, please gouge out his mysterious eyes. For me.\n" ]

[ 1, 1, 3, 9 ]

[ "1403908595", "1403911271", "1403891221", "1403887047" ]

[ "Connie sat alone at the bar as per usual. She came here every Friday night. Same bar, same seat, same drink. Why? Simple. The bartender was her bestfriend from college.\n\n\"Hey Xavier! Let me get another one!\" She yelled probably a bit louder than neccessary towards her friend.\n\n\"Sure, one sec Connie,\" said Cavier as he mixed the drink. Once he finished, he poured it into a glass and slid it to Connie. \n\nConnie eyed the glass skeptically. Something was off. Then it hit her.\n\n\"Hey Xavier! What are you trying to pull?!\" she yelled as she marched over to a nervous looking Xavier.\n\n\"What the hell is this?!\" She shoves the glass near Xavier face. \n\nXavier laughs, \"You really get mad when you drink to much.\" \n\nHe then drops two ice cubes into the drink to calm his friend.", "'Alright I am going up to get another beer, anyone want anything?' Kate asked to her group of four friends.\n 'I'll get them' Henry said hurriedly with an over enthusiastic smile.\n 'Im up now don't worry' Kate said lightheartedly.\n 'So am I' Henry said quickly rising from from the booth. \n To avoid further awkwardness Kate backed down,'I'll have a beer then' she mumbled. Henry relaxed and walked over to the bar. \n 'Was he acting odd or was that me?' Kate asked, a general nodding of heads went round the booth. \n Kate got up and stealthily followed Henry's route. She sat down on a table next to the bar and covered her face with a cheap magazine which was lying there. \n She glimpsed him on the far side with a serious yet urgent look on his long face, then she saw it, Henry slipped out a bag of powder dropped it in a beer then pocketed the bag. This action was done so smoothly and fast. He gathered the drinks and started walking back to their friends. \n Kate was shocked by what she had seen but didn't confront him when she arrived back at the booth. Henry put down Simons beer in front of him and Kate's' inches from her, it was clear who's was who's. There was only one thought in Kate's mind, 'I cannot drink that drink'. Nightmares of being drugged and abused flooded Kate's mind, she shivered. 'Thanks Henry' she said with a unconvincing smile. \n 'Oh no! My drink, Kate knocked her beer onto the floor, glass smashed at her feet, it didn't melt the table or turn to smoke like Kate's mind had imagined, the beer fell like any alcoholic beverage would. In a wet smash. \n Henry had a look of devastation on his face, a single tear ran down his cheek. What an odd reaction Kate thought. \n 'Come with me Kate', Henry whispered with authority coursing through his voice. He grabbed her hand and lead her out the bar. He was Kate's closest friend, they had known each other since as long as either could remember. Why was he doing this? \n 'You saw me put something in your drink didn't you?' Henry stared down on her. She nodded. \n 'It wasn't what you think, I promise you'. It was for your own good, you needed that. Kate I am so sorry'. Tears ran down Henry's face.\n 'At around noon tomorrow a gas will leak through this country. A nuclear power station failure, they were trailing a new method however there was a reaction, a bad reaction which couldn't be sorted. There was no point telling people, there is nothing we can do. There is only one trail antidote which I developed. I am not even sure if it works, it is, was, the only chance to survive the poison. It was in your drink. Kate I am so sorry, this gas leak is my fault and I tried to save you but now you are as dead as the rest of us, I am sorry Kate, I am so bloody sorry'.", "\"Ryan?\" \n\nHe started, then tried to set the kettle down on the table with an air of casual indifference. It landed on the side of a pile of magazines, which slid out from under it. He grabbed for the kettle with both hands, barely saving it from clattering to the floor. \n\nHe was still clutching it in both hands when he turned to face Heather.\n\n\"Yes?\" he said. \n\n\"What were you doing?\" she asked. \"That's my mug, that is.\" \n\nHe looked down at the green porcelain mug, then back up at Heather. \"Um,\" he said. \n\nShe marched over, grabbed the kettle and tore off its lid. It made a metallic ringing noise, as if to announce what prize she'd won. \n\n\"As I thought,\" she said. Her words echoed back from the kettle's interior. She slammed the lid back and thrust it back into Ryan's hands, then wiped her own hands on her apron, even though they were perfectly dry. \n\n\"It's just, I'm worried about you-\" said Ryan. \n\n\"So you sabotage me?\" Heather's fury made her voice go soft. \"You know what that will do to me.\" \n\n\"I know what you've said it will do to you,\" said Ryan, glumly. He looked over at the mug. \"I know what not drinking it will do to you, too,\" he added. \"You can't keep this up.\" \n\n\"So you force it on me surreptitiously,\" she said, shuddering. \"Water. Ryan, I can't live with you if you're going to keep trying to trick me into drinking water.\" \n\nShe picked up the mug, sniffed it, eyed it suspiciously, then dumped its contents into the sink: Golden grains of sand. \n\n\"You'll have to move out,\" she said, her voice nearly inaudible. \n\n\"But- but I have nowhere else to go! You said I could stay here for at least two months! I have a job interview lined up on Thursday-\" \n\n\"I'm sorry,\" she said. \"I know. I have no choice. If you persist in this delusion that I'll die of dehydration, if you keep threatening to undo what I've worked years to achieve, then I can't have you here. I'm really sorry, I just can't. I wish you the best of luck.\" Her face creased, but no tears sparkled in her eyes. \n\n\"It's insane, though!\" insisted Ryan. \"Everyone needs water to live! You can't possibly-\" \n\n\"Ryan,\" said Heather, \"I don't question your ways. Do I look unhealthy to you? No?\" \n\n\"Fine,\" he said, numbly. \"I guess... I guess I'll go and pack my things.\"\n\n([Cross-posted offsite](http://www.patreon.com/creation?hid=621196) to my Patreon. I hope that's okay.)", "\"Sorry you got the short straw, Barry,\" Lisa cooed.\n\n\"Heh, it's okay, these meds don't go well with alcohol,\" Barry said with a nervous laugh. He took out a bottle and shook it. For a brief moment, the rattle of the bottle drowned out the music.\n\n\"Watch our stuff, will ya?\" Marian called out, as she dragged Lisa to the dance floor. Not waiting for an answer, the two women shoved their way into the writhing crowd.\n\n\"Gods, he is SO WEIRD,\" Lisa said, as best as she could into her friend's ear. \"Why'd you have to bring him along? All he does is look at me and giggle.\"\n\n\"I've known him since we were kids. He's a good guy, but he gets tripped up around cute girls.\" Lisa arched an eyebrow.\n\n\"He's never gonna get anyone with those clothes, or that haircut. And he really needs to lose that belly. It's gross!\" Marian sighed, before glancing back at the table. She choked back a scream. Barry stood over their drinks, fumbling with something in his bag. He looked around, before returning his gaze to his bag. Lisa had followed her friend's gaze, her lips pursed.\n\n\"I TOLD you he was bad news!\" Lisa said through gritted teeth, as she made her way back to the table. Marian followed, thoroughly numb. This was the same dopey kid that had lent her a pencil when she'd lost hers in fourth grade. He'd admitted to having a crush on her back in tenth grade, but had said nothing, because she was going out with his best friend. Yes, he was overweight, and unkempt, and socially awkward, but not once did he try to take advantage of anyone! Would he?\n\nMarian stopped short when she saw the cylindrical object in his hands, pointed towards her drink. He met her eyes briefly. A single click pierced the music, followed by the light from the flashlight he'd fished out of his bag. Lisa took two steps back and heaved, while Marian felt the blood run out of her face. A roach, about as big as her hand, squirmed in her half-finished beer.\n\n\"We're leaving. Now.\" The two women nodded without a word, and followed Barry out of the bar.", "The party had been winding down for the past hour. People were making their goodbyes to Tom and wishing him the best in his new job in LA as the found their way out of the bar. Jess decided it was time for her to do the same. She walked over to Tom who was just finishing up a conversation with another couple who were leaving.\n\n\"So, you ready for upper management?\" she asked him slyly as she hugged him. \n\n\"The folks that hired me think I am and for what they are paying me I'm more then willing to find out.\" Tom replied with a laugh. Jess had known him for years and seeing all the hard work he'd put in for the company pay off with him getting a great job in another company made her happy for him. \n\n\"Our company is run by a bunch of idiots to let you get away from us.\" Jess told him. \n\n\"Get a photo of you two together for the last time?\" Jim asked. Jess turned towards the camera and put her arm around Tom and he did the same, she hoped her hair looked good, she'd just dyed it a lighter shade of blonde and had it cut short a week ago so she wouldn't have to work to maintain it so much, but three hours into a party would make anyone look a bit worn down. \n\nRight as they took the picture she happened to glace out of the corner of her eye and saw Wayne at the bar. His hand lingered over her drink for agonizing long seconds. \n\n\"Smile\" Jim shouted and she snapped out of it and smiled with Tom. She gave Tom a quick peck on the cheek and a nod goodbye and she staggered towards the bar. Her legs felt disconnected from her body as she shambled back to the chair she'd been sitting on. \n\nHer mind rushed back to three months ago when Beth at work seemed so nervous around Wayne, how he leered at her and was weirdly invading her persona space. She had asked him about it and he'd said they had gone on a couple dates but nothing came of it and Beth never said anything about it. \n\nShe had gotten Wayne the job at the company, vouched for him when people came by for references, she'd known him since college and they had always been good friends but nothing romantic had ever come of it, now she didn't know what to think of things. She couldn't remember any real changes in his attitude towards her, but she knew for a fact he'd just drugged her drink.\n\nShe kept shifting in her chair to try to see Wayne, and then she saw him hanging out with Tom and he was clearly staring at her, waiting for her to drink. Jess reached for her drink and slowly lifted it to her mouth. Right as she nearly started to drink it she had the glass slip from her hands and fall to the floor. \n\n\"Oh I'm so sorry.\" she said to the bartender as she picked up the glass. When she got back into her chair she heard quick moving footsteps. Wayne was making his way out of the bar with a great deal of haste. She shuttered in her chair, did he fear she'd figured him out? Was he just angry she hadn't drugged herself with the drink? \n\nShe didn't know what to think, all she knew was the man she thought was Wayne was a lie and the reality is he is a monster. Now she had to figure out how to stop him before he hurt another woman. \n\n", "The music is loud; reverberating off the tiny walls of the house. The paint is chipped on the walls and any wall paper left is grey and clinging onto the cheap plaster by some miracle. Julia isn't sure why her and her friends came here. She isn't much for parties, but her friend's told her to just enjoy herself. So, she thought she might as well try. She danced with random people, talked about things she did not know and even got a drink. She usually made it a rule to never drink at a place you didn't know, but she was with friends so it couldn't be dangerous. They would look out for her. \n\n\n\"Jules, get over here and come dance with me!\" Karen yelled waving her arms in the air and then letting gravity take total control over them. She was completed hammered as she started to sing along and violently hump a legs hip next to her.\n\n\n\"Where is your drink!?\" Karen's eyes opened wide as if she had just discovered the 9th wonder of the world.\n\n\n\"Oh I left it over there on the table.\" Julia motioned\n\n\n\"Go get it and drink wit me\" Karen start to spin simultaneously hopping around making her look like a charlie brown animation gone horrible awry.\n\nShe rolled her eyes a little bit and laughed at how funny this would be in the morning as she returned to her drink only to find Carl standing over it.\n\n\"Carl, what are you doing.\" She sprung towards him with a jovial skip. She was feeling really good. She was having a good time, felt safe and was with her friends.\n\n\"Oh, Julia.... nothing\" \n\n\"Goddammit Carl! Stop putting your finger in my drink!\" She gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder as he laughed so loud that other people on the dance floor could hear. \n\n\"Now, go get me another one!\" She said smiling and tugged at his shirt. She knew right then, that she loved him more than he would ever know. " ]

[ 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 11 ]

[ "1403913831", "1403935551", "1403899101", "1403922380", "1403896723", "1403895750" ]

[ "They call Second Life a game, but it isn't, really. It's a virtual world, where you can make anything you can imagine. Unsurprisingly perhaps, the one thing *most* people imagine in Second Life, is sex.\n\nI don't quite know why I started with a female avatar. To begin with, I guess, I decided that if I was going to spend hours a day looking at my avatar's butt, it might as well be a sexy one. And so Roxanne was born; tall, slender, tanned skin, long blonde hair that curled in waves over her shoulder, large breasts. Of course.\n\nTo begin with, I played her as a lesbian. Because, you know, watching lesbians going at it is just so hot. But Roxanne apparently had a mind of her own and when she fell for Paul it came as a total surprise to me.\n\nI, or rather, Roxanne, was at a little jazz club where everything was in monochrome, except for the people dancing there. The music was lively, 1940s swing and I was actually enjoying it; made a nice change from my usual preference for darkwave. My IM window popped open.\n\nPaul Dreamdancer: Hi. You have a lovely avatar. Would you like to dance with me?\n\nxRoxanneSexyChikx: Oh, sure. (giggles) You're not so bad yourself.\n\nPaul started up a dance animation and we danced together, not a slow dance but a lively swing-step. \n\nI was actually really impressed with his avatar. Most guys in Second Life all look the same; the same freebie skin, the same cheap clothes, the same beefcake shape and bad tattoos. Paul was different. He was slim yet athletic, dressed in a good quality tuxedo and smart shoes, his dark brown hair flopped over one eye giving him a youthful look. Come to think of it, he looked a bit like I did, fifteen years ago.\n\nHe was also, as I soon discovered, charming, witty and well-mannered, again totally unlike most guys in Second Life. We chatted about our time in the game; Paul was an old-timer, been in Second Life for years and years, involved in the arts and the historical roleplay scene. But we never talked about our real selves. \n\nPaul Dreamdancer: Let's not spoil the illusion.\n\nxRoxanneSexyChikx: You're different from most guys.\n\nPaul Dreamdancer: (smiles) So are you.\n\nFrom that day onwards, Roxanne and Paul were inseparable and I found myself actually growing fond of him. *This is crazy,* I thought to myself. *I'm a straight guy. What the hell am I doing?*\n\nThree months later, Roxanne and Paul were officially partnered, Roxanne quietly removed the word \"lesbian\" from her profile and changed her display name to Roxanne Dreamdancer.\n\nI knew that Paul was from somewhere in the same timezone as myself because he once mentioned what time it was when he had to log off in a hurry, but we never really talked much about where we were from. Until one day, he was all excited about an art exhibition he was involved with, not in Second Life but in Real Life. He gave me a link to the website.\n\nThe gallery was in my hometown.\n\nMy heart raced and I was silent for a long time. Then:\n\nRoxanne Dreamdancer: That's where I live. I work at the University. IT department. \n\nPaul Dreamdancer: Oooh! Are you free on Tuesday night? Come to the opening!\n\nRoxanne Dreamdancer: I... no, Paul, I can't.\n\nThere was another long pause.\n\nRoxanne Dreamdancer: I'm nothing like Roxanne in real life, Paul, you wouldn't like me. You wouldn't even recognise me.\n\nPaul Dreamdancer: You wouldn't recognise me either. We should carry a secret token of some sort. A red rose.\n\nRoxanne Dreamdancer: I don't think it's a good idea, Paul. Let's not spoil the illusion.\n\nBut I could not help thinking about him all week. I didn't log in to Second Life, because I was actually afraid of what was happening to me. Falling in love with a man.\n\nOn my way home from work on Tuesday afternoon I bought a red rose on impulse and I arrived at the gallery at seven thirty with the flower hidden away in my jacket pocket. Someone handed me a glass of champagne and I wandered around, looking at the art but not really seeing it. I was more interested in looking at the people, or rather looking to see if anyone was carrying a red rose.\n\nNo-one was.\n\nThe exhibition was called \"Dream Dances\" and the artwork, to my surprise, was derived from screen-shots of Second Life. Most of them featured Paul and Roxanne.\n\n\"What do you think?\" a voice said from behind me. I turned around. She was lovely. Late twenties, dark brown hair that flopped over one eye. She wore a vintage style white dress that was covered all over in a floral print. Red roses. \"Hi, I'm Paula, the artist.\"\n\nTears filled my eyes and I handed her the flower from my pocket. \n\n", "Everyone was against it. Some were vocal about it, telling me that I was making a horrible mistake. The ones who were not vocal made it clear with their looks and actions. I don't need you to tell me how much you think I'm out of my mind when you look at me with eyes like that. Some of my friends actually stopped talking to me. That's okay, it weeded out the people I don't want to be friends with anyway.\n\nI was lonely, I felt like I was reaching out to someone, doing my good deed for the world. I never expected it to get this far when I started corresponding with a inmate. Everyone makes mistakes. Your childhood shaped you, good or bad, but somehow we lock up the people who made \"bad\" decisions instead of getting them a shrink.\n\nDespite the obvious differences in our upbringing, and the ways that we later acted because of it, we clicked. We just, understood each other. He could share his feelings and innermost thoughts without being thought of as \"weak\" and I could share with him things I do that are wrong, or strange, without being thought of as \"messed up.\"\n\nThe first time I saw him, it was the most marvelous thing that I can ever remember happening to me. I had imagined how it would be, how he would be, so many times, but how it really was could never compare to my fantasy.\n\nHe was perfect.", "I press the send button and can’t help but smile. Aileen looks at me and smiles, “You look happy! What’s going on?” I look at the door to ensure the doctor isn’t coming in. “It’s this guy! I met him on Reddit! He complimented one of my stories and then we started messaging on yahoo messenger and I think I’m in love!” I say energetically. Aileen bounces in place; she’s my favorite nurse. Besides being caring and sweet, she genuinely became my best friend when I became sick and makes it a point to hang out with me throughout the day. “That’s awesome! What’s his name?!” She asks in her usual bubbly tone. I pop up his profile on my computer. “His name is Sheamus! He’s an author! He’s wise and smooth!” I say showing her his avatar. \n\nHe has brown wavy hair and deep brown eyes. His avatar’s face is goofy with a tongue sticking out and he wears a band tshirt and ripped jeans. “His avatar is adorable! He has to look like a god!” Aileen shouts naively. I giggle; she obviously has never heard of catfishing. “Come on A! What if he’s like a psycho? He’s adorable and all but what if I’m disappointed?” I ask hesitant of what she might respond with. “Are you going to spend your whole life wondering what could have happened? Ever since you started playing on your computer again, your health has improved ten-fold! You owe it to yourself to find out. What’s the worst that could happen?” she says opening the curtains. I look into the sun; I was going to be discharged any day now and she was right. My days of being sick were over, I’m in control again. I get up from my bed and hug her. “We need to hang out after I leave here!” I say as she giggles. “Of course! I will give you my number and we will hang out all the time!” she says taking out her phone.\n\n After we exchange numbers and she leaves the room, I message Sheamus. I write, “I really like you. You have given my life meaning again and you have helped me through an extremely dark time. I would love to meet you and we could see what the next step of our journey may be.” Sheamus is usually extremely prompt but it takes him three hours to write a response. He replies, “I am so glad that I’ve gotten to speak to you. You have been an inspiration for me as well. I’m sorry but I’m very sick and I would rather you not see me but please know that I love you with all my heart.” My heart flutters at his words even though I was rejected. I always knew he was sick but he never let on that his condition was that bad. Over the next few weeks, I ask him about his health and how he feels day to day. Most days he says are pretty good and he sends me a prompt to answer. Many times they are about the apocalypse, aliens, magic happenings and crazy decisions left up to a single character. I always answer and send him the response when I finish. He always comments and says something sweet like, “I will never look at ____ the same way” or “Thank you for the new perspective”. \n\nAs the months pass, I grow restless and ask him again, “Please Sheamus, I love you dearly. Please let me see your face so that I know our love is true.” He responds an hour later, “Does a face confirm or refute feelings in your heart? Knowing that you are walking in this world gives me hope and faith to recover. Please hold on sweet angel.” My heart flutters as the tears fall and I write back, “You seem so sweet but are avoiding this so badly. I can’t do this anymore. If I can’t meet you soon, then we need to cease our contact.” He replies within minutes, “Dear angel, if this is what it takes please don’t leave. I will meet you at my house at 7 pm for dinner. I beg you to remember that I am unwell and the love you feel for me right now.” He sends me his address and I instantly message Aileen to let her know my whereabouts. As much as I’m in love; I still need precautions. She is ecstatic and comes over to help pick out my outfit. I look at myself in the mirror in my bright yellow dress and my wavy dark locks. This is how I want him to see me when we first meet. I plug the address into my gps. It is a decent drive; his house is away from any neighborhood because it sits on a large property. His yard stretches for miles and I stare in awe as I approach his doorstep. His house is grandiose and fit for someone extremely wealthy. He never mentioned having any status in society and I never assumed. I knock on the door and ring the doorbell. I fidget nervously waiting for a response as it begins to rain. It’s already so dark out, hopefully there are lights throughout the property so when I leave, it will be an easy drive. \n\nThe door creaks open and a shadowy figure stands at the door. “Come in the light” I command before I go in. He does so and is wearing a hood over his head. “Put down your hood.” I say strictly. He exhales and lets his hood down. His wavy brown hair is shaved and blonde in color. His dark chocolate eyes are mint green. I look at the man before me, “Sheamus?” I ask. He looks at me shamefully and somehow I know I’m right. “It’s okay. I’m here!” I say hugging him still willing to give him a chance. He nearly falls over and smiles. As we enter his house, he walks slowly with a limp. He leans on me for support. We eat pasta alfredo for dinner and half way through he has some sort of asthma attack. I watch him wrestle with his inhaler and cough violently but am unable to help him. After he gets the attack under control, he apologizes profusely. “It’s fine!” I insist although I know he doesn’t believe me. After dinner he offers to give me a tour of his home. As I see his limp worsening, I suggest we do it another time. “Does anyone else live here?” I ask looking at the huge stair case and the many rooms on this floor alone. He shakes his head, “Just me.” He says quietly. \n\n“You’re a little different.” I say with a laugh trying to subtly bring up the subject. He smiles for one of the first times the entire night and says, “So are you. I thought I was inviting a shy and nice but rather weak girl who was recovering from a horrible illness and you show up here as a beautiful strong woman who is one of the most understanding and caring people. I loved supporting you on the internet because it was the one place where I could without my illnesses interfering. You come here and support me the entire night. You messaged me saying that you need my love but in this one night you’ve convinced me the opposite that I need yours.” I sit next to him in awe unsure of how to follow up. As we sit watching the fireplace, it clicks in my head that this night wasn’t going to be anything like I expected. Rather than talking the entire night with witty one liners and the ease that is in every romantic comedy, we sit in silence enjoying each other’s company. \n", "\"My God\" I thought to myself, \"He's beautiful!\". The way he stood there in those tight fitted jeans, baseball T, and pure white sneakers was enough to make the butterflies in my stomach start to flutter. He had short hair, sunglasses, and a one-sided smile. I couldn't wait to start the next round.\n\nI had just finished a campaign on Left 4 Dead for Xbox and decided I really wanted to team up with the other 3 because they were very good at killing zombies and especially the one guy, xXZombieDoucherXx, who was the leader of our little group and had the sexiest voice I'd ever heard to go along with his heroic zombie killing. After adding them all we started another round of No Mercy and jumped into zombie slaying heaven. All four of us really hit it off over the next few days and months. We met up quite frequently online and exchanged phone numbers and real names. xXZombieDoucherXx's name was Matt Kane and he lived in Texarkana, TX. The other two lived somewhere East, I didn't really care, I was just focused on Matt and his soul filled voice. His Facebook profile picture was also his xbox avatar and he didn't really have any other pictures. I thought this was kind of weird but he assured me he only allows close friends and family to view his entire profile with his other pics and I understood, there's a lot of crazies online.\n\nAfter about two years of calling him on the phone and all four of us playing online a lot we started speaking of plans to meet up. We all lived in the U.S.A with me being farthest north in Minot ND and since Matt lived farthest south in Texarkana we scheduled our meetup for June 1st, 2014 in Denver CO because it was almost a mid point for all of us and no other real reason . . . . . . .\n\nI arrived in Denver just after noon and had a bite to eat at a restaurant downtown. We decided to meet up at a smoke shop named \"Mile High Recreational & Medical Cannabis\" at 3pm so I started to make my way there after lunch. I got there just after 2 so I browsed and waited for everyone else to arrive. We decided to all wear L4D shirts since it's the first game we met on and we'll be able to recognize each other. Laura Nguyen AKA \"~Nguyening~\" was the first to arrive and we exchanged pleasantries. She was a pretty girl, in fact more pretty than I had thought to imagine and was feeling rather self conscious but I reminded myself that Matt and I spoke on the phone nearly every day and even said \"I love you\" a couple times so I should have nothing to worry about. Greg Adder AKA \"KlownKar\"was the second to arrive in his L4D shirt. It was tight against his broad shoulders and I could almost make out the six-pack ab......STOP IT I told myself because I could feel my blood pressure rising at the sight of such a man. If this is what Greg looks like with THAT voice, I can't wait to see what Matt is like! So all three of us have a chat and make a few purchases. It's about 5pm when we decide that Matt must be running very late and we'll go sit in the coffee shop across the street and wait. I texted his phone a few times but didn't get a response. At about 9pm we decide to go back to Greg's hotel room and have a few drinks then head out to the pub as planned. Maybe Matt will show up since he knows where we'll be . . . . I just hope everything is OK.\n\nIt's just after midnight and we've all had a few drinks and I was in the middle of telling them about the flirty relationship Matt and I were in when Greg goes \"Wait! .... is that..... is that Matt?\" I spun around on the stool to the direction he was pointing and a man was sitting at a table a few feet away with a L4D shirt on. He was old. . . . much older than I had imagined him to be . . . . was he 40 maybe? The shirt was tight against his body but not like Greg's, more like a watermelon trying to fit into a bag meant for a honeydew. This can't be him! It's just a coincidence that someone is wearing that shirt in this pub! But I needed to know for sure. Greg is killing himself laughing and Laura has a shocked and almost scared look on her face. I tell them I'll go ask him and that I'm positive this isn't Matt, it can't be MY Matt.\n\nI take what feels like forever to get to his table. His eyes slowly meet mine, and he says \"Hello KittyMeow69\" (I was young and dumb OK!?) but in the saddest tone I've ever heard that sexy unmistakable voice. \"No.......No you're not Matt\" I let out in a whisper. \"Indeed I am\" He responded and his eyes had that sad look in them. \"Y-You lied to me!\" I stammered, \"You're avatar picture! It isn't you! You aren't the Matt I know! The Matt I L-\" and I caught myself before I said it. He couldn't even look at me anymore. He just lowered his head and said \"sorry\" in the smallest voice his body would let out. Greg and Laura came up behind me and had heard everything. Although Greg was laughing earlier he looked ashamed now. \"Hey Man! You're Matt right? Great to finally meet you!\" Greg said and shook his hand. Laura gave him a hug and introduced herself and we sat down at the table. I still couldn't believe it, was this the man I'd been thinking about all this time? Was this the man who kept me up laughing and talking all those nights? My heart had a dull ache in it, like a rock was sitting right in the centre. I ordered up a round of shots to try numb the pain and we all got to talking and drinking shortly after. It turns out Matt is 35 and lives with his wife and 3 kids on their ranch just outside Texarkana. His family owns a few very successful butcher shops so he doesn't work which explains the time he was able to waste with me. His wife is always traveling and shopping and the kids are in school. He's bored with life at home and wanted to get away for a bit which is why he wanted to meet up with us. \"Well why didn't you show up at the smoke shop like we all did!\" I snapped at him. \"I did\" he said, \"I got there and saw three lovely looking young people having a nice conversation and I just couldn't work up the courage to join you. I'm so sorry, I know I'm not what you expected.\" he said with a sigh. He was right, I didn't expect him to look like this at all, but who is really to blame? I never did ask him about his physical appearance because I made up this dream man inside my head and his smouldering voice and amazing game play did the rest.\n\nWe had a few more drinks and the pub was closing. Greg and Laura stumbled into a cab together with promises of meeting up again tomorrow to play out the rest of the week we planned in Denver. It was just Matt and I outside the pub as it closed. \"But you said you love me, and you have a wife!\" I drunkenly accused him. \"I do love you\" he said. \"I love you as KittyMeow69 and the fun we have on Xbox, the long nights of conversations, and how we keep each other company!\" I couldn't believe it! He thinks he was keeping me company! What about all my friends back home I barely ever see and my family that lives out of state and . . . . and he was right. Matt, Greg, and Laura kept me company over the past few years when I was nearly alone. Matt and I spoke about everything and anything over the phone and I have such wonderful memories of our conversations. I looked back at Matt in his ridiculously fitting L4D shirt and a smile came over my face. \"What?\" . . . \"You aren't going to go all psycho on me now are yah?\" he said in that sexy Texan accent I've heard so many times. \"I love you too\" I said with a big grin over my face. \"I love you too xXZombieDoucherXx . . . . . . even though you aren't what I expected, you are more than I could hope for\" and I gave him the biggest hug my drunken body could give and we hailed a cab back to my hotel. We stayed up all night talking and laughing. He's a married man so that's all we did. All four of us had the time of our lives that week and we have had a few more meet-ups since then. I still talk to Matt nearly every day on the phone, and yes, I still tell him I love him, and he replies the same with \"I love you too kitty\"." ]

[ 1, 2, 2, 5 ]

[ "1403957439", "1403931314", "1403931958", "1403923147" ]

[ "There comes a time in a man's life when he must overcome great duress for the sake of love; It is a staple of manhood to bear burdens and press through pain. \"Men are strong and capable of doing what needs doing. \", Marcus kept repeating, though his words were hollow and his resolve was absent. He just couldn't go through with this. \n\n\"Is there something wrong with me?\", Marcus couldn't help but enter into existentialism; \"Is this who I am?\" \"Maybe I'm just not good enough...\" He wondered if there were something inherently flawed with him. \n\nBut there was nothing wrong with Marcus. In fact, he was perfectly sane, which made it all the more terrifying. \n\nFor there, in front of his very eyes, lay a slosh of food. Not just any food, but food lathered in enzymes, food he had seen before - two days ago at lunch. This predicament would normally be solved with a swift press of a handle, literally to be washed away forever. However, this particularly rancid defecation contained something valuable. \"I'll do this for Abbie.\" Marcus said as he prepared his forearm in a plastic bag. \n\nHis ring await beneath.", "Too sane, some would say.\n\nTo him, a moderate apathy. To others, excruciating sociopathy.\n\n\"Once the optic nerve is severed, the occipital lobe goes dormant.\"\n\nThe piercing screams of pain and terror careened off the pale green walls and ceiling of the operating theatre, punctuated by moments of deafening silence as the patient drew breath.\n\nMarcus seemed to relish the anguish in a way - he had described this moment in his books as one of imminent enlightenment for the subject. The open skull of his nameless victim exposed a raw gore that belied this. Two small flicks of his wrist, and the patient was blind. The screams turned to a mourning pant.\n\n\"...and with the spinal cord severed, the patient is now entirely locked in. Deprived from all sensory input. This isolated mind can achieve that which Buddihst monks could only dream of - within this mind is a consciousness free from external distraction, free to explore the depths within the mind.\"\n\nOf all the horror I witnessed that day, the slow crescendo of applause was the most poignant. \n\n\n" ]

[ 2, 3 ]

[ "1403940268", "1403934250" ]

[ "Batman tried desperately to wash the mayonnaise from his eyes with his cape but it was no use. Blind! Damn! \nThe condiments had eeped into his suit and were toying the bat suits computing. And years of training in martial arts and criminology hadn't built up a tolerance to his food allergies. Rashes, burns, the mustard was bringing his body into anaphylactic shock. \n\"No Bruce, you can't die like this....not like this\" Batman took two tentative steps forward and slipped on a pool of ketchup. As he feel he shot the batgrapple in a last ditch attempt to save himself and the hook flew hoplessly into the air. \n \nMitchell could not believe his luck. blood pumped through his veins as he took a moment to relish his victory. Gotham was his now, and everyone would know and fear the name \n*Condiment King*", "\"But you're Superman! You can't...you can't die!\"\n\nSuperman looked at me with quiet eyes.\n\nHe had been the savior of our vibrant Metropolis for all these years. He had been the amazing red streak in the sky, swooping in to save the day. He fought off every threat. He had gone toe to toe with people far greater than I, had mastered threats I could only begin to imagine, and had lived far longer than I could even think about, and now he was dying.\n\n\"You were supposed to be able to protect us from anything. You were the strongest, the bravest, the best.\" Tears streamed down my face. He looked so vulnerable in this instant, the True American Protector reduced and destroyed to nothing by the most pathetic, the worst, the stupidest villain in existence. He didn't even have powers. He was just some guy Though everything around me screamed with the harsh, screeching sounds of death, all I could hear was his gentle, labored breathing, his life as it struggled to gather strength and root itself in his body again. As I watched, the bloom of life faded. Superman suddenly looked...old.\n\nIt was a struggle for him to lift his arm, but he did it anyway. He placed his hand on my shoulder. With a gentle crackling of white paper, his arm fell to his side; he couldn't muster up the strength anymore. I felt something die inside my heart as I watched him fade.\n\n\"Forgive...him.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Forgive him...because...you're better than that.\" The words were labored and slow. His mouth worked, but there was no sound for a long time. When he resumed, I listened. This was his final message, the last will and testament of my Superman. \"Forgive him...because...he's somebody's son. Forgive him...because...he made...a mistake. Forgive...him...because I...love you. Don't...harbor hatred...in your heart.\"\n\n\"I'm gonna miss you, Dad,\" I whispered. My tongue felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. My nose felt twice as large as normal. I placed my hand down on top of his.\n\n\"I'll see you again, someday,\" he said quietly, voice as strong as I remembered, and for an instant he was Superman again.\n\n /\\ /\\ /\\\n ---\\ / \\------\\ / \\------\\ / \\------------------------------\n \\/ \\/ \\/", "The greatest hero of this world dies in the hands of the laughingstock of the super-villain world because he underestimates him. He realizes that his weakness that made him as vulnerable as any mortal was his hubris. Though this hilariously incompetent villain is known as a laughingstock due to his shortcomings, the villain subjects the hero to a mid-life crisis about the subjectivity of life and anything left in vain. The hero takes his life by throwing himself into a distant ocean seven thousand miles from the North Pole, thus freezing, over time, in a immense glacier that acts as his cryogenic prison. Nobody knows where he is and the hero has disappeared. The hero has lost and this hilariously incompetent villain has won, or has he? Perhaps, it was a Pyrrhic victory for the both of them. We may never know. ", "The room is dark, clouded with smoke and dread. A thick black round table sits in the middle of the room with black chairs all around it, the seats are filled with men who are even darker and colder than this mountain peak room. At the head of the round table sits a bigger, blacker throne, the arm rests are decorated with skulls made from the very rock taken from the Moon-O.G itself. Sitting within this throne is a man, a man who is now the most infamous super villain in human history. The man who the public cower in fear from the sound of his name alone, The Pincher. \n\nBut it wasn't always like this, that throne was once mine. I was once the Supreme Super Villain known as The Skull and this was once my mountain lair that I named, The Skulldorm. These dark figures were *my* men and The Pincher was one of my low-level street crooks. \n\nNew America Kingdom was once safeguarded by a hero simply known as The Savior. This man was someone that the people of Earth Attempt #2 looked up to and praised. He abolished diseases, hunger and poverty, he was the greatest hero that humanity has ever known and as the most fearful person on Earth Attempt #2 I even had a level of respect and admiration for him. We were complete opposites, we battled hundreds of times, he would defeat me and I would be forced to retreat and think of a new way to enslave the entire World© McDonalds-Fifa-Coke 2105-∞. But on that one Summer night it all changed and what followed was something not expected at all. \n\nIt was a dark night, darker than usual and I was watching from The Skulldrom through my Henchmen's GoPro3000's as my lower tier men were doing the usual street business to earn income, recruit new villains and remind humanity that fear is real, and then The Savior came.\n\nHe cleaned up the entire crew and right before teleporting he saw him, that disgusting, soft looking nervous cat-piss smelling joke of a human, The Pincher. He was called that because he would steal things and use them as his weapons and on this night he happened to steal peanuts. \n\nThe Savior leaps at The Pincher and in a fright, The Pincher throws his bag of peanuts in the face of The Savior who stops dead still in his tracks, murmurs out a word and then starts to swell, and swell and swell. The greatest hero humanity ever known was dead and it was due to an extreme peanut allergy, something none of us knew, which was caused by The Pincher. I vomited in my mouth as a single tear ran down my cheek.\n\nHe returned as soon as possible to The Skulldrom to report the news, but word already reached back. My men all took a knee as he entered The Dark Halls to the man who conquered the World© McDonalds-Fifa-Coke 2105-∞ and caused villainy to reign ruler. \n\nNow years later after that event, he sits in MY CHAIR, he rules MY MEN, he takes MY GLORY AND MY ATTENTION. Nobody remembers me, I am just a fool sitting in seat number 13 next to two villains I would not even class as villa-\n\n\"The Skull...\", the voice rings through my ears like needles being slowly pushed into eardrums. \"The Skull...\", the voice, something I couldn't stand more than this suckers face. \n\n\"Here\", I ooze lack of joy, contempt and hatred. \n\n\"Thank you, The Vile Finger...? The Vile Finger...?\" The voice. \n\n\"Here.\". \n\n___________\n\nI hope you enjoyed this short story, I have wanted to join writing prompts for a while and this was a topic that inspired me to start. Feel free to critique and give me tips on my writing!\n\nedit: fixed a word. ", "Sure, the grease traps weren't clean, but so what?\n\nTo a lot of normal folks, the people pass by the Cook's restaurant, and see nothing but a shit-hole. You joke to each-other about how you feel lousy for the people who eat here... Well, he doesn't give a damned about the health code, and he cooks good food. He has regulars, and they're quite loyal. It was just before closing time, when Ol' Jimmy Richardson walked in.\n\n\"Hey, Jackie boy. I'm hungry as a siberian cattle herd. Rustle me up a burger, nice and quick, medium rare.\" Jim was a tough looking sort. Always covered in bruises, and scrapes, but the Cook just chalked it up to a hard day's work. Normally, he wouldn't serve a man a rare burger, but he felt Jim could handle it. He fried it up and served it to Jimmy-boy.\n\n\"Mmm-Mmm-MMm.. Now, this is a tasty burger. How much do I owe you?\" He wolfed it down in double time.\n\n\"Two fifty.\" He paid up, left, and the cook turned on the television.\n\n\"Early this morning, a masked vigilante foiled a robbery today. Three in critical condition, no fatalities..\" He flipped the channel. The news was garbage anyway.\n\nOutside, Jimmy wretched into a trashcan. There had been something wrong with that burger. Something very wrong. The signal was in the sky, but he felt off, sick, unwieldy. His powers wouldn't work. Gradually, his muscles locked up. Soon, even the muscle that pumped his life's blood stopped.\n\n\"Here's to the solstice, Great One... Here's to the chalice from which we all drink.\" The Cook had foiled the city's bright light, and appeased his gods at the same time. Many people thought his restaurant was a roach motel, but that was as far from the truth as possible. Anything that stepped through the doors of his restaurant was destined to die. Roaches had aneurysms as they entered. Flies dropped out of the air. And the Cook just smiled, like he always did. There would be another customer coming along soon. ", "\"There are some things that can beat smartness and foresight? Awkwardness and stupidity can. The best swordsman in the world doesn't need to fear the second best swordsman in the world; no, the person for him to be afraid of is some ignorant antagonist who has never had a sword in his hand before; he doesn't do the thing he ought to do, and so the expert isn't prepared for him; he does the thing he ought not to do; and often it catches the expert out and ends him on the spot.\" ~Mark Twain\n\n\n* Damien Swift was at home dozing in his recliner. His day job was hard enough but his night job really took it out of him. His wife wouldn't be back home until tomorrow so this was still the realm of beer cans and no pants. He'd take care of it in the morning. Just before he could drift completely off, the phone rang.\n\n* It was Keil Jacoby's first night back in costume. He stood in the parking lot of a strip mall gazing longingly through the front window of the Taco Bell. He was so hungry; he hadn't had anything to eat this week other than some bird seed he'd stolen from some old lady at the park. He'd been paroled last month but he just couldn't find work! He lied to himself again saying it was because he was a felon; deep down he knew he was just too awkward and inept for anyone to hire. It was a great deal of what had driven him to crime in the first place. Everyone knew his name though. At least he had that going for him, even infamy was kind of nice in its own way. No one would ever forget when The Stumbling Leotard had nearly blown up city hall. \"Dammit, couldn't they have at least let me pick my own name?\"\n\n* \"...broken into the Savings and Loan. I told Burrows that cheap strip mall was a horrible location, but he just kept going on about how many people he could help by keeping his rent low. Why couldn't he just...\"\n\"Right Chief, Savings and Loan, I'll be right there.\" \nWhy couldn't they just let him sleep one night? Couldn't the cops handle even one petty criminal? Ever since he had started this gig it was like they had forgotten how to do their jobs!\n\n* Keil picked up a brick that had fallen from the dilapidated walls; wound up for the pitch, and threw it as hard as he could. He watched helplessly as it spiraled to the right, missed his mark and sailed straight through the window of the Savings and Loan. He wailed in agony as the alarm went off. He knew it was already too late for him to escape. But that had never stopped him from trying. He shed a tear for his lost meal, oh God he was hungry.\n\n* The Speed Demon zipped through the streets faster than the eye could follow. He stopped off at the Waffle House for a bacon egg and cheese sandwich (running like this was hungry work). He knew he had more than enough time before the perps could get away.\n\n* He heard a sonic crack come from a mile down the road. He turned to look and could just make out the sickly yellow sign of the Waffle House. Of course, it was just like that bastard to stop for a snack on the way. He turned on his heel to run... and tripped! Just as his nosed touched the pavement, pain exploded in his side.\n\n* He careened into the parking lot while taking the last bite of his sandwich, he saw the broken window, but no one was here! How could he have missed them? Before he could finish wiping the grease from his mouth his toe caught on something soft and he flew forward, tumbling head over heels. The plate glass of the Taco Bell slashed his throat as he crashed through it. He might have still made it to the hospital in time if slamming into the freezer had not knocked him unconscious.\n\n* He limped to the window. He had at least two broken ribs where the fool had stumbled over him. He peeked through; Speed Demon was out cold and fountaining blood as far as his supercharged heart could shoot it, soaking the Stumbling Leotard in the process. He hated to see the man die. Not that he minded his death, he hated the guy, he just couldn't stand the sight of blood. He passed out from the agony of the dry heaves. When he recovered it was way to late for the Speed Demon, his body was already cold. The Crimson Leotard shielded his eyes from the sight as he picked his way through the debris, and cooked some tacos.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\n\"Dammit, every time I leave he wrecks the house! I'll bet he hasn't worn pants in *days*! When I get my hands on him I'll...\"\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~ \n\n*This is the first fiction I've written in years; I just couldn't pass this prompt up. I hope you enjoy it!*\n\n*edit: grammar\n\n*edit 2: changed formatting to make it a little more readable", "Super Dave was known as the perfect super hero. Smart, funny, handsome, strong, fast, and could fly. He wasn't the most creative person though. He stole his theme song from a fictional comic book character.\n\nFaster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a train... Blah blah blah. It's Super Dave!\n\nDave's friend John had questioned him on his obviously plagiarized theme song. \n\nJohn asked \"I know you're an intelligent guy. You've got a doctorate for crying out loud. How could you be okay with stealing your theme song?\"\n\nDave quipped \"I like it.\"\n\n\"Is it even true?\"\n\nDave hesitated before sheepishly answering \"I don't know. Haven't done any of those things.\"\n\nJohn stared at his friend in amazement. \"Shouldn't we at least verify that you can do those things?\"\n\n\"Sure, will be fun!\"\n\nJohn said \"Ok, first thing first.\" He pulls out the handgun he always carries around with him. \"Dodge, this!\"\n\nJohn fires the gun and to his amazement, he killed Super Dave with a single shot to the head.", "He always stuck around long enough to gloat, long enough to mug for the cameras and the fans. long enough to lift a car for the firemen that wasn't really in their way, but boy, did he make it look cool. The way he had that damned smug smile every time he picked us up by scruff of our neck when he would load us into the paddy-wagons, and spout off his stupid platitudes to the onlookers ( If I had a dollar for every time I heard 'Remember kids, crime doesn't pay!' I wouldnt need to rob banks). I respected the ones who just gave a beating, or left a guy tied up for the authorities- at least then you didn't get to see the news clips played on repeat on the TV in lockup.\n\nI never really cared to be part of the cartel, but they look after their own. Technically, I didn't even have powers to qualify me to be in the meta-max wing, but on that night I was glad that I was in there with the scariest, and deadliest players. Lady luck must have been looking out for me that night, first the news came on with the bulletin of the assault. All the heavies in the Cartel who weren't in here with me hit the city like the wrath of god, didn't seem like there was any plan other than destroy everything. In hindsight, I see the plan worked even better than the boss could have hoped.\n\nThey hit fast and hard, I heard the whoomph of the perimeter wall go down, then not even a minute later, a little louder whoomph and the second wall was breached. The place went full red alert, and the hacks all started scrambling. Their radios were just howling chaos by the time the last wall blew open, super reinforced concrete, steel and god knows what else spraying across the cell block. The hacks barely stood a chance, the lucky ones were killed in the explosion, the ones wounded didnt even have the chance to lament their plight before the doors opened, and even though the collars killed whatever powers a guy had, a hundred angry criminals with a chance at freedom will get the job done.\n\nHE showed up just as the main switch to the collars were killed, but it didn't even matter. I hid really, I'm not even in the weight class that they even have a collar on me. They clattered to the ground, and I saw his eyes get a lot harder than they ever do for the TV cameras, and he smiled. I scrambled and got to the control room, and in all honesty I didnt really see a lot of what heppened, but I could hear him laugh as he was punching his way through all the would be escapees, he took his fair share of shots, nothing that slowed him down more than it took for him to dust the remnants of a wall off his cape, except for that last time.\n\nThe last minute was so slowed down I could probably remember how many raindrops were pouring in from outside- The moment before I remember cowering for cover as I got showered with the glass as he came flying through it. I saw the collar on the ground and before I could even contemplate at just how stupid an idea it was, I had grabbed it and was skittering across the room to get it on him before he got up. For what it is meant to do, it snapped on a lot smoother and easier than I expected. His eyes snapped open and he grabbed me by the throat, his grip thankfully still restrained enough that he didnt just pop my head off like a dandelion. He tossed me across the room before he realized who I was, then he laughed. That smug prick laugh of his. His laugh cut short when he realized where exactly we were, and what he had thrown me next to.\nThe collar power switch.\nBefore his mouth could even open to say 'Stop' I slammed my fistdown on the switch, the red lights coming on the indicator on the front of his (and anyone who didnt rip theirs off the second the power was killed in the first place) and I swear I could see the strength just drain right out of him. An added security feature of the collars (which actually made me glad that I wasnt powerful enough to rate getting one) was that in addition to counteracting the powers of any enhanced person, if the prison was in an alarm state, it shocked anyone wearing one to the point that they could not resist detainment. \n\nOr, defend themselves.\n\nMy body shaking with Adrenaline, I grabbed a shard of the glass (which wasnt supposed to break, but if a guy who can bench press a tank throws someone through it, its going to break) and without even thinking, I darted over to him grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hissed \" I guess crime does pay, huh?\" into his ear as I jammed the shard into the side of his neck. Again, and again. His blood came out in gouts, splattering against me, before he dropped to the ground. \n\nThe greatest hero the planets has known, shived to death in prison like a bitch. Powers or not, I think people will take me a little more serious now.", "The Magician, had been practising his art for years and was still many years off from being ready to making his debut on the stand. Unfortunately he already developed a name in the dark underworld, The Intern, a strange boy who kept pestering the dark and dangerous of the city for hints, tips and advice pleading to apprenticed to them. He was constantly rebuffed and occasionally taken in only to be abused and humiliated by his master.\n\nHowever he had spent a stint with an embezzler and fraudster who used him to fetch coffees, order dry cleaning and finally when the Feds caught up to take the fall. \"I'm just an intern I don't know anything\" those words followed him with their cowardly tone, shameful and heavy. \n\nThe Magician had buried himself in the utility tunnels of a decrepit office in the outer suburbs having been given the bums rush out of his last three lairs, two taken by crack dens and the third by an urban redevelopment project. Practising his tricks and plans on his own as much as he could except when he couldn't deal with the repeated failure he'd go on the internet and procrastinate browsing fan forums for the various villains of the city waiting to be inspired. \n\nFive in the morning and a bleary eyed Magician downloaded his hundredth PDF for a doomsday device he'd build some time in the future, no really he would after bulked up a bit first for the heavy lifting. There was a series of small explosions and Mister Strong kicked in the door to the other side of the room smashing clutter aside everywhere. \n\n\"INTERN!\" Strong's voice boomed in the tiny flithy room and Magician squealed in terror, he fell backwards off his stool and landed in a pile of fast food wrappers scrabbling backwards away from the imposing superhero. Mr Strong picked up the panicking failure and brought him seven feet up to eye level \"You should never have gotten involved with the Decorator\" he threw The Magician into shelves clattering hundreds of Betamax tapes onto the ground. \"I never did anything with him he wouldn't take me\" The Magican tried to hide behind an out of date printer \"Lies, the Decorator named you to the FBI when managed to pull him out of the ceiling\" Mr Strong stomped the printer into fragments and lifted the Magician back up again shaking him. The Magician tried to beat at Mr Strong's chest and then it happened.\n\nOne of the few devices the Magician had managed to afford was a wrist mounted spring loaded card holder he had planned to use to hustle poker and gather capital. The card holder sprung out and by pure luck managed to pierce My Strong's throat, the filmy metal broke off and snagged inside. The Magician was thrown once again and landed heavily on his toppled chair knocking all the wind out of him, Mr Strong pawed at the piece of tiny metal sprouting out his throat his large hands unable to get any grip. \n\nMr Strong fell onto his back wheezing, struggling to breathe he had never been so exposed before. The Magician tried to get up and help Mr Strong, he couldn't cope with the dying man in front of him and he hadn't yet recovered from being thrown. He managed to crawl over to Mr Strong who was now purple and barely moving, he hauled himself up and went to remove the jagged metal hopefully freeing up the hole letting the fallen hero breathe once more like in those medical shows. Cruel misfortune meant however that the clumsy villain accidentally poked the metal through the hole completely sealing the hero's fate completely. All the magician could do was sit and watch Mr Strong slowly die and foul himself. \n\nNo one found Mr Strong for many weeks, a hobo came into the room for safe place to sleep that night and discovered the desiccated mouse nibbled body. It was several months later when the authorities finally found the body, a shaken up young man gave them the tip and confessed to the murder, there wasn't enough evidence to determine cause of death or establish a case against the young man on murder charges. ", "\"Really?\"\n\n\"Yeah, do it.\"\n\nFartface stood before the worlds greatest hero, hands trembling he pressed the button and watched as Mary Sue stood there defeated. \n\n\"You aren't even going to break free?\"\n\n\"Nope\"\n\n\"No backup coming?\"\n\nMary Sue sighed and rolled her eyes, \"Not for another 30 minutes minimum.\"\n\nFartface smiled with glee before pulling onto the lever causing the large vat to move over the chained heroine. He was so close to the ultimate goal, the destruction of Mary Sue... Yet, despite his soon to be victory, a single question nipped at the back of his mind.\n\n\"Why?\" His voice echoed through the empty warehouse, He could hear Mary's chains rattle slightly as she raised her head.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Why?\" He repeated, the machine moved into place and the last portion of his plan about to be executed.\n\n\"Why what?\" Mary questioned, her eyes were half closed, defeated. The once powerful figure of justice and authority reduced to a weak kneeling prisoner.\n\n\"Why are you doing this? Those chains could barely hold a normal human yet you aren't even going to try? You will die you know? You won't live from this.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nFartface tensed, it wasn't the answer he expected nor the one he wanted. He wanted her begging, struggling and giving her all when he won. Yet she done none of that.\n\n\"Is this pity? Because I haven't killed anyone? I will you know. I don't need pity!\" He screamed, but she didn't move nor react to his outburst. Sitting in his seat he shook his head. His crowning moment of glory once again destroyed by Mary. So what if he wasn't as feared as the others, so what if he wasn't able to take his first kill because it was a child? He was still a killer, he could still rule!\n\nBut Mary just sat there, waiting for the final blow, a blow he wasn't prepared to take until he got the answer he wanted.\n\n\"It isn't pity Fartface.\" She said quietly until it was almost a whisper, her mask hid her face well, and Fartface was too far away to see the growing lines of stress that had accumulated over her long battle with crime. \"A time must come for all of us, and now is my time. And this is yours. Give us both what we deserve.\" Her voice was grated and weak, almost begging but it was too quiet to be sure.\n\n\"Wow, after all this time, this whole thing is still about you.\" Fartface jumped to his feet, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. \"You could have gone to any other villain! buttscraper, the milkman or even Baby Mask, but you went to me! Why?\"\n\nMary peered through the corner of her mask, she could see Fartface trembling, his right hand hanging over the big red button that spelled her doom. She could feel her muscles ached from being in her kneeling position for so long, her costume had been ripped from several places and the chains that bound her cut into her skin. Already she knew any longer in this position and the blood would stop running to her legs. \n\n\"\"Not that I will need them soon.\"* She thought to herself laughing silently.\n\n\"What's so funny?\" She heard Fartface ask. *\"He was taking too long to do this\"* She thought to herself once again.\n\n\"Just thinking of things.\" She muttered. Fartface took his hand off the button and sat back down onto his chair.\n\n\"Why are you doing this? Just tell me and we can all go home.\" He bargained with his captor, but Mary Sue made no indication of accepting it.\n\n\"Fine. Sit there and wallow until the police arrive. I won't even bother. You will not get your satisfaction until I get mine.\" Fartface turned to leave, tipping over his chair in annoyance. \n\n\"For the weak to be strong, sometimes the strong must let them walk on their own.\" Mary called out to him.\n\nSpinning around he rushed to her side \"What the hell does that mean?\"\n\n\"That's all I'm saying, and it will make sense to you when I die. So please\" Mary turned her head with great visible pain, and stared up at Fartface, \"kill me\".\n\nBeing this close to her, Fartface could truly see Mary Sue. He had of course seen her the multiple times taking him down as well as in the news. But this was the first time he could see her up close. She was as beautiful as everyone had proclaimed her to be. Her scars and bruises did not ruin her natural features but only enhanced them. Yet he could see it on her face, the years had done a number on her health, she looked years older than she should be and the bright glow her eyes she once had every time she faced an adversary were dimmed.\n\n\"Fine.\" Fartface walked briskly to the control panel once again. \"If you are going to be cryptic with me, then I will see you in the afterlife.\" Hands trembling, he rested his fingers gently over the big red button that would end the life of the world's, strongest and mightiest heroine. \n\n\"He pressed the button and the machine once again spun back into life, it's loud motors whirred and buzzed as Fartface turned to walk back out into his much less impeded life of crime.\n\n\"\"Thank you.\"*\n\nA whisper, over the roar of the machines, Fartface stopped to face Mary Sue for the last time, he thought he heard something, something he had never heard in his entire life. Something he believed belong to those who do others good, for those who were good. Taking a deep breath and shaking his head, Fartface turned back out pushing the words out of his head.\n\n*\" She's not thanking me for anything, anytime soon.\"* he thought to himself as he got into his truck and left as the blaring of the police siren could be heard miles away.\n\n\n------------------- A few days before------------------------\n\n\n\"Are you serious Mary Sue? There has to be another way?\" Police Chief Michael stared confounded at the silhouette of Mary Sue in the darkness, the plan she had just spoken off was insane and at the very least wouldn't work. \n\n\"I need your help Chief Michael, you are important to this plan. I need you to keep the police away, or it won't work.\"\n\n\"But you need to die! This plan won't stop anyone. The people of this city can't stand up to the villains without you.\"\n\n\"No Chief. The people of this city can't stand at all, my death will be their wakeup.\" Police Chief Michael fell silent, allowing the hero that saved his life so many years ago to speak.\n\n\"The people have grown complacent and so have the police, I can't put away bad guys if the citizens of this city give them a playground to destroy when they come out.\" Mary Sue stepped down from the window ledge and sat onto the seat provided in Michaels office. \"And I need to show them that even the weakest of criminals are dangerous, I need them to throw out any and all criminals in their streets.\"\n\n\"But Fartface? He is a joke, he is going to humiliate you in ways you can't imagine before you die. Are you sure that's the way you want to go?\"\n\n\"It has to be.\"\n\nMary took a step out of the window, saluting the Chief, she disappeared out into the night.\n\nSorry for bad english, I'm not really good at writing stories. ", "Ultraguy stands atop the Daily World, admiring the sunset. He rarely needs to look after his city anymore, aside from the rare Kartonian invasion or an attack by Deathfreak. The citizens of Big City know that Ultraguy will always be there for them, and subsequently crime has been reduced to an all-time low. You'd have to be crazy to go up against Ultraguy.\n\nSuddenly, a tingling on his ultra-ears: a cry for help. Someone is being mugged. Mugged? In Big City? The Big City protected by Ultraguy? Are they serious? Ultraguy almost decides to let the police handle it before realizing he has nothing better to do.\n\nFaster than a speeding projectile, Ultraguy is on the scene. A decrepit little back alley. A business man. A thug with a gun. Ultraguy stands between them, the wind of his arrival knocks down some empty trash cans. \"Can I help?\" Ultraguy asks in his deep heroic voice. Unperturbed, the thug continues to point his gun at the businessman.\n\n\"Gimme your wallet!\" Then, even without his perfect ultra-zoom vision, Ultraguy notices the thug's face. \n\n\"Fred? Fred Peterson?\" The thug pays no notice.\n\n\"Gimme your wallet!\"\n\n\"Fred, you must be, what, 70? 75? What are you doing?\"\n\n\"What does it look like I'm doing?\"\n\n\"Didn't I put you away before for that failed jeweller's heist and...and before that with the botched kidnapping of Dr. Barclay and then before that with your attempted murder of the Crowley twins and then--\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, yeah, what's your point?\"\n\n\"Well, didn't you do your time...every time? I don't recall hearing you escape...ever.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"So shouldn't you be reformed by now?\" Fred chuckles and spits out of the corner of his mouth.\n\n\"I been in an outta prison since I was 14. Prison ain't gonna change no one.\"\n\n\"But you're 70, Fred. Why don't you give this up? What are you doing with yourself?\"\n\n\"I'm a crim. Always was, always will be.\"\n\n\"But this is *my* city, Fred. You'd have to be crazy to think you can take me on and get away with it.\"\n\n\"*I'm* crazy? You think you can stop *crime*!\" Ultraguy frowns. His forehead furrows.\n\n\"But...I...I do.\" Ultraguy looks at the old man pointing the gun and thinks about the hundreds of thousands of times he's seen the exact same situation. Unhappy, Ultraguy slowly levitates out of the alley.\n\n\"Ultraguy? Ultraguy?\" the businessman calls out feebly.\n\nUltraguy slowly floats up to the top of the Daily World. The sunset has gone now and it was the beginning of night. Ultraguy muses on how when he first started out on the Big City beat he would always get nervous and excited when night would fall. Now he just felt worried. \n\nA long way off a gunshot sounded. Ultraguy chose not to hear it.", "A thoroughly undignified man takes a seat on a thoroughly undignified stool. It's a piece of furniture made specifically to humiliate anyone who uses it, stolen directly from an elementary school dunce corner earlier today. Finding a dunce corner in modern-day America had proven a challenge, but the Council of Super-Villains is always willing to put in the extra effort to poke fun at Victorian Caesar, laughingstock of evil. \n\nWhen you think of lackluster B-Movie antagonists, you think of Victorian Caesar. He's the one who reveals plans instead of shooting the hero. He's the one who selects obvious double-agents to be his right-hand men. He's the one who doesn't bother administering vision tests to his henchmen before handing them a gun. Victorian Caesar is the cliché, and his existence amuses everyone greatly.\n\nExpecting a show, the Council of Super-Villains files into the room. Eight well-dressed individuals take their spots in a semicircle of leather recliners in front of Caesar. Normally, ridicule would have begun right away, but this meeting is convened under unusual circumstances. Victorian appears to have done something right. Very right, in fact. Something so right that members of the Council feel enough respect to hear him out before bringing out the dunce hat that customarily comes with the stool.\n\n“We hear you've killed the Übermensch.”\n\nA faint smile of pride graced Caesar's face. “That I did.”\n\n“Would you mind telling us how?”\n\n“Does it matter?”\n\n“Yes, yes it does. What if someone else like him comes along? We need to know how to win.”\n\n“Well, it's a long an' enthrallin' story, so you best take a seat.”\n\n“You're stalling.”\n\n“Called building intrigue. So. There I was, holdin' up this one couple on the street, walkin' with their kid. Then, the man o' the house starts resisting, yellin' at me. So I shoot at him. Out o' nowhere comes this big burly dude. Dunno how he did it, but he stepped straight in front o' the bullet an' it just bounced off o' him like nothin'. Family ran away, leavin' me alone with the Übermensch fellow. Who was it that made that name? Freddy Noosh? Franky Nash?”\n\n“Friedrich Nietzsche”\n\n“Uh huh. Well, he punches me right in the gut, I fly ten feet into a brick wall. I look up at the sky, sun's shining-”\n\n“You mugged someone in broad daylight?”\n\n“Yeah, element o' surprise. No one expects to get mugged in broad daylight.”\n\n“Your logic is impeccable. Continue.”\n\n“Sun was shining, everything was nice. I figured, hell, if I'm dying today, it's not a halfway bad thing. Then it starts to cloud up, real fast-like. Dunno where it came from, wind or something. But these clouds just start comin' an' they don't stop. Cover the sun an' ruin my mood. Can't even let me pass away peacefully, no, world's gotta keep giving me problems. I look over at the Übermensch, an' he ain't lookin' so hot. Bit sickly, you know, like how you look when you just threw up. That face. Now, at this point, I'm pretty sickly too. I've just been bashed into a brick wall. Not feelin' good. But I stand up, an' I go over to him, an' I give him the best punch I can. Well, more like a slap, really. I slapped 'im. I slapped the Übermensch. An' he looked at me all insulted-like an' slaps me right back. 'Cept this time I don't go flying. It's just a normal slap. I look him up an' down, an' I kick him in the shin. Opens his eyes wide like a panda bear on the way down. Falls for a bit, you know, as people tend to do. Then he hits the ground, knocks his head, an' he's out.”\n\n“That's it? You kicked his shin?”\n\n“Mhm.”\n\n“And he's dead?”\n\n“Checked his pulse an' everything. Dead as a doornail. Must've gotten one o' them brain problem things when he hit the pavement.”\n\n“This is the same Übermensch that's been giving us trouble for fifty years?”\n\n“Yeah, well, I mean, gets his powers from the sun, don't he? Figure if its overcast he's just your normal dude.”\n\n“His weakness was bad weather?”\n\n“Near as I can tell. Explains why he's never given you any trouble in Seattle.”\n\nThe Council of Super-Villains looks each other over. They call over one of the henchmen guarding the door to the meeting room. \n\n“Could you fetch seven more dunce hats?” one of the Councilors asks. ", "The Nefarious League of Doom was meeting in its usual vista, a large dark metal dome assembled in the middle of a feted swamp, far from the prying eyes of the mindless public and their do-gooder heroes who spoiled the endeavors of the League’s many members. While it served as a convenient home base for the hundreds of villains who inhabited the globe, rarely did it see any significant number of villains gather at one time except for the rarest or most dire of conditions.\n\n… This was both of those times.\n\nA loud gavel echoed through the main meeting hall, as more than a hundred costumed psychopaths, egotistical billionaires, eldritch creatures, maniacal aliens, terrifying daemons, unappreciated geniuses, misunderstood laboratory experiments and childhood rivals stood at attention, murmuring around themselves about the recent threat.\n\n“Alright, sssssssettle down!” League president and resident King of the Snakemen, Slithar called to the group as he whacked a large ceremonial mace on the podium. As the murmuring continued, he shouted “Ssssssssshut up already!”, as the crowed finally quieted down, he began his speech.\n\n“Finally. Alright, lissssssssssen up everybody, asssssssss we all know, recently many of our bassssssesssssss have come under attack, with dozenssssss of our fellowsssssssss aressssssssssted an…”\n\n“Hey can we get someone without a speech impediment to make the announcements?!? Some of us have places to be!” a man dressed as a red lightning bolt shouted, waving his arms around in an exaggerated blur.\n\n“Ssssssssssshut up Crimssssssson Sssssssssstorm, I have the mace, ssssssssssssssso I can sssssssssssssspeak!” Slithar shouted angrily, waving the mace as a toddler would a rattle.\n\n“Asssssssss I wassssssssss sssssssssaying” Slithar continued to the low groan of the crowd “It’ssssssss come to our attention that thessssssse attacksssssss were all done by one persssssssssson. Alphaman!”\n\nThe crowd began to erupt in shouts.\n\n“What?’ Crimson Storm shouted\n\n“Alphaman? No way!” Morlok the Mighty groaned as he cradled his three giant adamantite battle axes to his chest.\n\n“But wasn't he banished to the Effervescence Plains of Sulfur?” Iron Reaper asked through his vocal slits in the dull grey armor he wore, his voice echoing in a low tone.\n\n“Apparently he esssssscaped…Ssssssorcero! Do you have anything to sssssssay?”\n\n“Don’t look at me!” a man in a domino mask and top hat shouted as he waved his cane around, he white cloak flowing behind him as he huffed in indignation “I performed the ritual perfectly, it must have been those power crystals Psylon brought me”\n\n“DO NOT QUESTION THE INTEGRITY OF PSYLON THE GREAT!” A floating purple orb with a dozen graspers shouted back “I STOLE THOSE POWER CRYSTALS FROM THE FINEST TRITANIAN MINE IN THE KNOWN UNIVERSE, THEY WOULD HAVE PERFORMED AS PROMISED. CLEARLY THEY WEREN'T THE PROPER UTENSIL, FOR WHIT I BLAME ASHUR! HE WAS THE ONE WHO DID THE RESEARCH ON THAT ANCIENT SPELL!”\n\nA beaded man in a crimson toga began to reach for his sword “You dare! I used all my ancient wisdom and the scrolls I spirited away from the Library of Alexandria to find that spell! It should have worked, I was using our working knowledge of weaknesses Alphaman had!”\n\n“But I thought he had no weakness apart from plutonite” someone shouted.\n\n“Incorrect! Lamia recently managed to seduce him and learn of his weakness to magic.” Ashur shouted back\n\n“Well, it’s a good thing I saw through that deception and lied!” A proud voice boomed over the din of the arguing. Everyone’s head snapped up to see a single figure hovering over the proceedings, arms crossed as a blue cape bellowed in behind him, clad in his immaculate white uniform with his arms crossed, was Alphaman.\n\n“If you’re quite finished, I think it’s time I take out the trash, try to reduce the pollution here in the Amazon somehow!” he quipped as he zoomed towards the assembled crowd.\n\nTo the credit of the supervillans, they all reacted as quickly as they could, at least four different ice beams bounced off Alphaman, followed by several manner of other beams, rays and lasers, ranging from heat, fire and particle. Slamming into the ground, he picked up Iron Reaper and threw him at five more mechanical supervillans with such a force that they all collapsed into a pile of scrap metal. As the villainous super speedsters began to try and encircle him in a manmade tornado, Alphaman, with one fierce stomp, cracked the buildings foundation and sent them sprawling in every which direction. He then cold clocked Morlok and threw his axes to pin three bizzaro and clone versions of himself. Magic users attempting to concentrate in order to cast their destructive magics were foiled when Alphaman sent out subsonic shouts, causing pain in their ears, breaking their concentrations. The explosions of a dozen failed spells knocked out or incapacitated most of the other villains.\n\nSurprisingly, the only one left standing was a man dressed as an 18th century socialite, holding a large violin as he quivered in his place.\n\n“Really? The Fiddler? You’re all that’s left? Wow…Just wow, the League’s really lowering its standards.” Alpha man said as he landed, taking small steps forward. \n\n“S…s…stand back!” he yelled in faux posh accent “Or else!”\n\n“Or else what, you’ll play a concerto at me?” Alphaman asked with a small laugh. Through the hall, the defeated villains groaned both in pain and at their last champion.\n\nShaking, the man dropped his violin and withdrew a flintlock pistol from a holster in his back. Holding it up, he pointed it at Alphaman’s chest.\n\nAt this point, the hero lost it, he stopped and doubled over in laughter. After several moments, he straightened himself up, clutching his sides.\n\n“You’ve…you’ve gotta be kidding me! This is the villain I've got to face to defeat the League. My god, no wonder the military doesn't just carpet bomb this place, you losers are all just a jok...” a loud boom echoed through the hall as the faint smell of sulfur permeated the air. \n\nAlphaman felt nothing for just a moment, then a searing pain in his chest overtook him. Looking down, he saw a bright red spot appear on his white uniform. A red spot that was growing at an alarming rate. Panicked, he tried to move forward, only to be debilitated by pain through is body, causing him to fall forward instead, landing on his face. As he blacked out into oblivion he took one last pained gasp, followed my a involuntary spasm. The blood now formed a small pool around his body, soaking the uniform in a soiled crimson.\n\nThe hall was filled with a stunned silence, no one spoke for several minutes. The Fiddler just sat on the floor, staring slack jawed at the corpse of Alphaman. Finally, Crimson Storm regained consciousness and looked at the body.\n\n“Fiddler…What the hell did you do?” he asked, holding his broken leg as he shouted in pain.\n\n“I…I don’t know, I just, I just shot him!” the man screamed, his natural Brooklyn accent finally showing though as he abandoned the fake noble accent no one believed. \n\n“Whad’ya mean just shot him?!? He’s freaking Alphaman, he’s bulletproof for Christsake!”\n\n“I…I used a ball made from a bit of Plutonite. I know we were trying to use other weaknesses because no matter hard we tried, we couldn't kill him with the thing that make him weak, but I had a pistol ball made when we were still working on that plan and I didn't wanna waste money.”\n\n“Wait you mean to tell me a plutonite bullet can kill Alphaman?!?”\n\n“I didn’t know, I figured you guys already tried that and it failed, it seemed so frggin obvious I thought one of you must have tried that!” Fiddler shouted, his powdered wig falling off as he yelled.\n\nAs the crowed of villains looked in awe at Alphaman’s body and his unlikely killer, they stood in silence for several minutes before Fiddler spoke up again.\n\n“So…now what do we do?”\n", "Her red hair blew out behind her like fire as she landed on the ground shaking it. \"Really? You're going to do this again?\"\n\n\n*\"HA! So we me-\"*\n\n\n\"Seriously? Listen, I know you fancy yourself a super-villain but we do this once a week and it always ends the same with you crying, bleeding and in jail being reintroduced to Jebediah, your prison squeeze. Does the not feeling pain help with the shame any or do you still find yourself crying after?\"\n\n\n*\"That won't happen this time, Soleil.\"* \n\n\n\"Yes. It will. You're pathetic. Look, I don't like being mean but you interrupted the first real date I've had in like. . . a year and I'm kind of annoyed.\"\n\n\n*\"How was that going?\"*\n\n\n\"Well. I think. Seemed to be going well. Thanks for asking.\"\n\n\n*\"Welcome. How was the chicken?\"*\n\n\n\"Dry. How'd you know I had chicken?\"\n\n\n*\"I know a lot.\"*\n\n\n\"No you really don't, you son of a b-\"\n\n\n*\"Don't disrespect my mother like that. She was a wonderful lady\"*\n\n\n\"Who raised a psychopath. What did you do?\"\n\n\n*\"I figured you out. Do you remember last time we fought?\"*\n\n\n\"I sent you flying through a bathroom door and you landed in a toilet. It was funny.\"\n*\n\n\"For you.\"\n*\n\n\"All that really matters. What did you do?\"\n*\n\n\"I noticed it after we went through the kitchen of that Thai place.\"\n*\n\n\"Can you get to your point? My date thinks I'm in the bathroom.\"\n\n\n*\" No he doesn't. A plate with chicken in peanut sauce hit you and I noticed the red spots and weak breath. You're allergic to peanuts\"*\n\n\n\"Wait, so you're telling me you poisoned me with peanuts?\"\n\n\n*\"A concentrated dosage injected in your chicken tonight. Flavorless.\"*\n\n\n\"If that was the case I'd be dead. Anaphylactic shock doesn't usually wait around for a monologue to finish\"\n\n\n*\"It does if its been made to release once I hit this button.\"* He said as he clicked it.\n\n\n\"Dick\" She said as her throat began to rapidly close. She reached for the pocket on her belt and found it empty.\n\n\n*\"You're date took this for me.\"He said showing a modified epipen. \"Old friend of mine. I'm not so pathetic now, am I?\"*\n\n\"Still\" Her voice was raspy.\"Pathetic.\"", "He crossed and uncrossed his legs. He twiddled his thumbs like it was his job. \n\n\"I just... Can't support your...decision,\" he said. To think of the fearless hero anything but confident in the mild-mannered life of his alter ego? Ridiculous. \n\nHe averted his eyes from her curious, almost intrusive gaze. The slight woman with jet black hair, severely cut, sat across from him in her iron-walled home. \"Darling,\" she says, \"You know I only have your best interest in mind. This is your safety we're talking about.\" \n\nHe rolls his eyes and plants both feet on the floor, suddenly remembering who he thinks he is. \"It's MY final choice, you know. This shouldn't even be a discussion. I'm employing you to do what I ask. You have an order to fill, and I expect it to be done.\"\n\nThe woman sits up straighter and stares at her arrogant commissioner. \"Fine,\" she slides through her teeth after a taught silence. \"But know this, Dynaguy- this is the last order you'll ever place.\"\n\nAnd so it was, for Dynaguy had chosen to add a cape to his super suit, and a snag on a still-active missile had ended his brief post-evil-dooer-defeat celebration, as well as his life.\nEDIT: T'was Thunderhead who was fallen by the missile. Dynaguy was still dumb though. ", "Twas a hero, savior of the land,\n\nCall his name he'll give you a hand,\n\nNemesis hated his fame and glory,\n\nSadly, this is the end of the story,\n\nHe was a hero, brave and strong,\n\nAsk him for advice, he's never wrong,\n\nHe made people happy, laugh, and smile,\n\nFought crime until the very last mile,\n\nHe was my idol, a man of power,\n\nStood up straight, tall like a tower,\n\nInvincible no villain could stop ,\n\nBut one day his body will drop,\n\nHe was just minding himself on a cold winter day,\n\nBut in the wrong place he decided to stay,\n\nAfter he put his gear in his trunk,\n\nA drive hit him, the drive was drunk.\n\nRIP dad.\n\n" ]

[ 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 8, 12, 13, 21, 56, 131, 196, 473 ]

[ "1403951404", "1403951478", "1403954480", "1403945556", "1403948046", "1403954973", "1403946816", "1403955633", "1403939261", "1403941799", "1403944438", "1403939749", "1403941217", "1403939175", "1403937884", "1403938688" ]

[ "Fraid Kurt Vonnegut Jr. beat you to it a while back:\n\nhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harrison_Bergeron", "Before the collar hit the concrete rubble, she was running towards the The Courtyard where the Institution of Musical Adherence was holding an electric guitar recital.\n\nShe reached the grey and dusty knoll that overlooked The Courtyard and saw the students in their dreary uniforms, sitting in folding chairs and hunched over their monochromatic Telecasters. Over the PA system a voice crackled \"STRUM!\" and the students played a musical but lifeless E chord, its potential snuffed out by the will of the State. \n\nShe scrambled down the other side of the knoll, her government issued boot heels sending concrete fragments and stones cascading downwards, giving rise to an ashy little cloud that left a chalky unpleasantness on her tongue. When she made it to The Courtyard no one acknowledged her, they just kept on with their musical drudgery, bowing before the PA system that gave the orders from its elevated stand. She raised a dirty leg clad in grey government issue trousers and kicked the PA system, sending it crashing to the ground in a din of feedback. She grabbed the Telecaster out of the nearest student’s hand, stood on the fallen corpse of the speaker and began plucking and bending notes up and down the neck in such fluid rapidity that all of the students lifted their heads in silent amazement, letting the guitar solo wash over them like waves of sonic liberty. One by one they began taking off their collars, hardly aware of the encroaching machines that were coming to snuff out their short-lived revolution.\n\nA student opened his mouth to speak but a bullet ripped through his jaw and he crumpled in the grey ash of The Courtyard. More bullets came from every direction as the machines that were sent to kill them descended. The consistent rattle of machine gun fire was only contested by the bent and hammered notes of her Telecaster.\n\nSome of the students tried to flee and were cut down, dark blood blossoming in their uniforms, serial numbers stitched into the right breast pocket. Others joined in, wailing on their guitars in a cataclysm of amplified steel string vibrations and machine gun fire, tears pouring down dirty cheeks, power chords and high neck solos beating back at the stamping feat and report of weapons built into the machines.\n\nAfter a short while the guitars and guns fell silent. The only sounds came from the stray squeak of a dead man's finger falling from the fret board, or the cold, programmed POP of a merciless execution from one of the machines.\n\nShe lay there looking up at the grey industrial sky, the murky semblance of the sun trying to shine through the pollution, blood filling her mouth and lungs, a smile on her face until one of the machines was upon her.\n" ]

[ 1, 6 ]

[ "1404077520", "1404074266" ]

[ "\"This is beautiful\"\n\nThe one on my right nodded, \"Of course it is.\"\n\nI turned around and looked between the two of them, \"Why?\"\n\nThe other one responded, \"Well, this is all you, really. There's an underlying structure, but you see it in your own way.\"\n\nI focused on them a bit more, two men. They were both wearing jeans, one with a black shirt and a stylized skull on it, the other wearing a blank white shirt. I blinked and looked between them, \"So the reason you don't have something on your shirt is because I don't think there's a symbol for generic life?\"\n\nThe white shirt responded with a smile, \"Yup.\"\n\n\"What should I call you two?\"\n\nBlack shirt responded, \"Lets not stand on ceremony. I'm Death, he's Life.\"\n\nI nodded, \"Ok.\"\n\nThe two looked at me patiently, and the silence stretched out uncomfortably, \"So... uh, why am I here?\"\n\nLife shrugged, \"It is a crossroad. Life is all about choices, after all.\"\n\nDeath rolled his eyes, \"I'm more than a consequence.\"\n\nLife ducked his head a bit, \"Heh, he is right. We both get used to just thinking within ourselves.\"\n\nI turned away from them and enjoyed the sight again. \"What am I looking at?\"\n\nDeath shrugged this time, \"I think you have the wrong idea about this place.\"\n\nI glanced back at him, but he didn't explain.\n\n\"I don't understand. I'm not sure I'm supposed to.\"\n\nI could feel Life's smile.\n\n\"I need some time to think.\"\n\nThey nodded.\n\n\"What do you guys do for fun?\"\n\nDeath laughed, \"I like movies, and live theater. Life is more about music.\"\n\nLife smirked, \"And stand up comedy. I love stand up comedy.\"\n\nI chuckled, \"Alright then. If you guys don't mind, how about we catch a show or two? Anything really.\"\n\nDeath nodded and moved up beside me, \"It's this way. If you've got the time, we could do a little of each.\"", "He sat on a neatly kept porch, reclining in a beautifully carved chair with a perspiring glass of amber liquid and ice. He was a man of sixty, dressed casually in shorts and a plain t-shirt. His smile was broad and gleaming as he greeted me.\n\n\"Drink?\" he said kindly, after firmly shaking my hand and offering a seat nearby, \"I don't like to brag but I make a mean iced tea.\" he said this with a wink and a deep laugh.\n\n\"I'm not a big iced tea...\" he cut me off and smiled knowingly, pointing to a table where there now sat another, similar glass full of black liquid with clear ice tumbling about at the foaming top.\n\n\"Coca-Cola,\" his smile never faded, \"never understood how you folks drink that but I never hold a man's taste against him.\"\n\nI took a sip before he and I sat in a comfortable silence for what seemed like an eternity.\n\n\"How do you do it?\" I finally asked, he set his glass down and let his face turn serious.\n\n\"Which part?\"\n\n\"You've been at this for eternity, how do you deal with the pressure?\"\n\n\"Pressure?\" he smiled at me and his eyes were soft, his voice held no judgement or patronizing when he said, \"it's been a sincere pleasure to have worked with so many. I have had my share of terrible people of course, but over the eons I have had the chance to talk with the kindest and most caring people. I remember a man, Alan Felding from...eighteen twenty two. He wasn't famous or even remembered by many but we spent twelve years talking. He was intelligent and generous and I cherish that memory. I treasure the moments I've spent talking with mothers and fathers who spoke volumes about their children and how proud they were, children who loved their parents so much even in the end, those who persevered against all odds and those who knew when to face their end with dignity and pride. I have met warriors and poets, bards and authors, dignitaries and peasants all. I have held their hands and talked with them, as I talk with you now, to hear their stories and live their lives. A rich, woven tapestry of stories that intertwine over the centuries to leave behind a truly wondrous picture of life.\"\n\nI was in awe, this man was truly happy with his life's work.\n\n\"Death,\" I said, \"what of the misery?\"\n\n\"Misery!\" he laughed until tears ran down his face before he spoke again, \"son, there is no misery in death. There is freedom from a life fully and truly lived and the regret of a journey not taken.\" \n\nHe continued as if he sensed my next question.\n\n\"There is no shame in regret, regret is what drove you to a better life. The thought of things lost drives you to find more in life, only in the end can you realize that your regret is meaningless and see the true impact you had on others.\"\n\nA much younger man approached the house, wearing an immaculate suit and tie with perfectly styled hair. The older man wore a sad smile, his eyes watching the man with a deep and profound sadness. The lines on his face seemed deeper and he looked many years older.\n\n\"Son,\" he said quietly to the young man, who raised a hand in reply.\n\n\"I've no time,\" he said brusquely and strode past with determined steps. I saw tears in the old man's eyes as he watched the young man fade to the distance.\n\n\"Only in the end can we find the meaning in our life, the business and the struggle. Only in the end do we know who we are. Until then, life takes it's toll and brings it's pain to bear. In the end, all life returns to me.\"\n\nWe sat for many hours, not talking but enjoying the beauty of nature around us. Where we had been in a quaint neighbourhood we now looked over forests, rivers, hills, and mountains where an eternal sunset rested at their peaks. When it was time I thanked the old man and left him. Sitting. Watching. Waiting. Eternal.\n", "I walked up the stone path and knocked tentatively. The house was old, but well taken care of. Small purple flowers bloomed from planters carefully placed on either side of the old wood door. Seconds later, it swung open, revealing a woman in a white sundress beaming on the other side. Her hair was silver, though her face looked no older than thirty. blue gemstone eyes glinted merrily, and her smile was warm and welcoming.\n\n“Beautiful flowers” I said. \n\n“Deadly nightshade.” she said, somewhat dismissively. We had to compromise. “Come in, come in. I made lemonade.” \n\nI followed her through the sparsely furnished, immaculate house to a kitchen which was bright with the sunlight streaming in through a large bay window. A man sat hunched at the quaint farmhouse table, squinting his eyes against the light. \n\n“Can we close the blinds, *please*” he grumbled. \n\n“No no, the light is nice.” she said, not missing a beat as she swept over to the fridge, then the cupboard, and poured three glasses of lemonade. “We have a guest. Try to be civil love.” she placed one glass in front of the man, gave one to me and kept one for herself. The man glared at me as he stood up and extended a bony hand. “Nice to meet you.” he droned. “Let’s get this over with”. He was more than a head taller than my six foot, two inches, and so thin that every bone in his body was visible. The outline of his skull pressed grotesquely against the skin of his face. Dark eyes mirrored a dark button-up shirt and black jeans. I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, too.” I mumbled, flinching away from his cold hand and vice grip. The woman sighed. \n\n“Well… I suppose that’s close enough. Take a seat, please. We really are glad you’re here. Ambassador for the entire human race, hmm? It’s quite an impressive title.” I felt my cheeks get hot. \n\n“Yeah uh. My dad knows some people, I guess.” I said, cringing as the words tumbled out of my mouth. The man snickered, and the woman hushed him hurriedly. \n\n“I’m sure you’re bored to *death* of the topic already” she continued, glancing at the glowering man. “We’re facing a population problem here, as you know already. It really isn’t *my* fault though, if your race wants to keep bringing life into the world.”\n\n“*My* world is almost completely depleted of souls” said the man, with the tone of someone who has had the same argument dozens of times with no resolution. “It’s not difficult for you to stop a few conceptions here or there. There are so many children being born that I’m taking a great number of them back before their bodies age a year. It’s confusing for the souls, and it’s immoral.” \n\n“He has a point.” I said. Is it really that easy to stop?” \n\nThe woman looked flustered. “Well… it’s… Listen, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” she stammered. \n\n“I’ve been pretty thoroughly briefed on the situation.” I said gently. “At this rate, we’ll run out of resources and start starving by the millions before the next generation has seen the limit of their lives. It’s not really fair to give life to so many, and then have your husband run around and round them up again a few years later.” \n\nLines appeared on the woman’s face around her mouth as she pursed her lips. “I think it’s time for you to leave.” she said. \n\n“Come on, be reasonable.” said the dark man. “We can’t keep this up.”\n\n“I *am* reasonable!” she screeched. “The deal was that I get to birth as many as I want, and then you take them back at the end. I’ve not broken any rules.”\n\n“It’s cruel.” said her husband. “They’re suffering.” The woman glared at me.\n\n“We request a new ambassador” she said. “You need to go back and send someone else.” she pressed in, and I backed up, afraid of her anger. I hadn’t signed up for this. She backed me to the front door, and then shoved me down the steps. The man followed with slumped shoulders. \n\n“I won’t have a *human* telling me what to do. Close the gate on your way out, will you dear?” she said, sneering. I opened the gate and slipped through it, and as I closed it the house and the yard disappeared, and with them the bristling woman and the dark man who had fallen out of love with her. \n\n\nEDIT: I'm sure this has a lot of problems with punctuation and whatnot but I don't feel like revising anything. " ]

[ 1, 1, 9 ]

[ "1404244459", "1404251770", "1404241656" ]

[ "As always before entering my home, I checked the door. No tampering, nothing unusual. But even so, I put my hand inside my coat, to ready my gun before I opened it. You can never be too careful in this business. Others would call it paranoid, but I’ve seen plenty of my coworkers taken out by a disgruntled companion of a target. *Hell, I’ve taken a few of those jobs myself. Not something to be proud of, granted, but at times the money is necessary. Just to survive.*\n\nThe lock clicked, and the door opened silently. I quickly scanned the hallway, and any room within sight. Nothing. I froze for a few seconds, just listening. Still nothing. Slowly I opened the door fully. \nThere was a small yellow envelope on the floor. *Another one. I expected a few weeks more before they find me something new.* Slowly, without losing my focus on the surroundings, I picked it up, and slowly walked into the flat. \n\nStepping over a few almost invisible strings on the way, my anxiety slowly relented. *No sign of intruders. No alarms, none of my safety checks are damaged. Looks like today, I’m safe.*\nRemoving my coat, I simply threw it on a chair. Finally I let go of my gun, putting the safety back on. \n*So, let’s see what we got.*\n\nPulling out a small but sharp knife, from a hidden pouch in my belt, I open the envelope. As usual, when I turn it around, a few papers spill out onto the table. But not everything is as normal.\nThis time, the target is someone I know. Probably better than anyone. \nI read the information on the back of the photo, unable to believe it. Someone sent me a hit letter to kill myself.\n\n*Is this a joke of some kind? Or a mistake?*\n\nThe photo… It’s an old one. About, five years ago? Before I started growing my beard.\nAnd all the info. My current address. Name of an alias. When did I use this one again? Oh yes, now I remember. A couple of years back, a hit on a mob boss. Looks like using new ID during every job I do, finally paid off. I have a trail.\nI pick up my phone, and start calling my contacts.\n*If this is a joke, it’s not a good one. Someone is going to end up either very sorry, or very dead.\nAnd I have a long night before me, to make sure I won’t fit into either one of those categories.* \n", "[NSFW]\n\n\"You need my money, and I want his fucking head. That is all you need to know, now quit asking me questions and go do your god damned job.\"\n\nHe was right. I *did* need his money. More money equals more control, and that was just about the only thing I had left in my life, or so I thought. \n\nThe offer was $50,000. I had never been offered anything before, it was just always a flat rate. I stared at the picture of my next victim, almost like it was wrong to take a human life. Everything seemed so familiar, the tight, black, cut-off shorts wrapped around his opaque thighs, the skin tight tank-top that boasted the logo of a surf shop, one that I had been to countless times in my past, and last, his shoes. The exact same pair of shoes I owned, just in much better condition. \n\nWhy this man offered me 5 times the normal price, I have no idea. This man was nothing special, but then again, nobody was. So, I took the job. I told my client I'd have this guy dead in a month, which was much longer than it usually took. \n\nI sat down at my desk, and began to research my new puppet. As the hours passed, the sounds of my monotonous typing grew louder and louder, something I had thought I was used to. I couldn't find one piece of information on this guy. I exhausted everything in my playbook, reverse image search, geo-lookups, they all came back with zero results each time. I was a sitting duck without a name.\n\nNot having a name was never a problem, I didn't need it when I had a face and a location. But, I had none of these. Days passed and I was running out of ideas. \n\nSuddenly, on one bright, cloudless, and otherwise beautiful day, something hit me. What if this guy didn't have a name? Then, it came to me. There was only one person that I had ever known to not have a name. \n\nIt was me. \n\nOne week ago exactly, I accepted a $50,000 offer to kill myself. Questions raced through my mind like cars on an Atlanta highway at 5 P.M, crowded and not sure if there was an end. Why me? What have I done? More importantly, how did this guy even get a picture of me? I hadn't shown my face to the world in decades. Nevertheless, my bank account was fat with murder money, and I had to come up with a course of action, and soon.\n\n\n\n", "I walk to the post office and check my box. cant have these coming to my home address, and emails. Ive never been much of a cyber guy. So i this week i have 3 manilla envelopes in there.\nI start walking home while skimming them out of curiosity. usually just look at the dollar amount and think of what to do with it. my next few are going to a yacht. I open the prongs holding the envelope shut and slide only the top of each paperclipped stack out. If i'm not careful the picture comes flying out then i'm chasing it in a breeze. not going to make that mistake again. \n A contract for $20000 on some teen age kid who keeps egging a very pissed off mans house. a contract for $50000 from some accountant who found out his wife has been sleeping with a cop, he wants them both dead. and one for.. Hello $5.5 Million dollars. this one catches my attention.Its from my agency. I could retire on this! i quickly duck into. *Don't Talk to Me Till I've Had my Morning Coffee*\nits a popular coffee shop around here since much like *Wiener Circle* In Chicago the employees and the customers take out all of their aggression of having to work and wake up on mondays at each other. Except this middle class predominantly white town in the suburbs so you don't get quite the insulting degrading humour you would in a big city.\nGod i miss Chicago, but its too high profile there.\n\nSo i duck into the shop and theres a small old lady going off at the young pimple faced barista. She is one of the few people i actually like in this town. Mrs. Hayworth, I see her in public all the time. She always is fighting with her husband so she has plenty of time to prepare for coffee. Well going to my usual booth i catch a line that makes me chuckle. \n\n\"Listen you chubby lunchbox, if i wanted to get fucked i would have stayed at home.\"\n\nEven all the way in the back of the restaurant i can still here her screaming in the background. \n\n\" i came here for a cup of coffee and you hand me this frapa-crapa-chino with whipped cream and little pieces of chocolate candy on it. Do I look like im in a sorority or do i look like the kind of lady who will poop on the hood of your toyota. \" \n\nI yell out \"she'll do it too!\" \n\ni'm holding in laughter at this point while opening the files and trying to read. papers and pictures are spilling over everywhere.\n\n\" you know what just take me to your car now, i want you to see it happen\" \n\nI pick them up and try to shuffle them back into order and a picture flys out and flutters towards the ground. I lunge for it and grab it inches away from touching the wet floor. I think to myself even as im aging i still got it.\n\ni place the picture on the table suddenly im not laughing anymore. The picture is me. Then written on the picture in red letters it says \"think about your family\" \ni flip the page over and theres a picture of my son who i havent talked to in years infront of his house walking a labrador. \n\nIt is obvious what happens next i either \n\nA) kill myself hope they fund my account and the money goes to my family. \n\nB) kill myself and they kill him anyway no one gets the money. \n\nC) Ignore the contract but then they will kill my son, and most likely me as well\n\nD) Go after them which is a suicide mission and they will take him out anyway, but at least ill have some revenge.\n\nNo matter what I wont survive but there is at least a chance he will. and who knows maybe they will do the right thing if i save them the hassle. \n\nI pick up the photo of my son, and shed a tear that hits the table and makes a small splash. \n\nI get up to walk out of the restaurant although my mind is already made up. \n\nMrs. Hayworth has already left and instead there a soccer mom complaining about how exhausted she is and how stressful of a day She is having. \" the bitch doesn't even know the meaning of stress\" \n\ni shuffle out unnoticed by anyone in there. i walk around back to the alley with the dumpster. I rip and throw the contracts away. I sit against the dumpster despite the smell and I pull out my conceal pistal of a .22 snub nose that i picked up at a gun show and never put under my name. \n\nI place the small barrel in my mouth upwards facing the top back of my head and bite down on the metal.\n\nI shed a few more tears and feel my finger go on the trigger. my whole hand is shaking now. All i can do is hope i made the right choice. \n\n\n", "I sat, contemplating what I must do next. This business is for the hard. If I've learned anything over the years, it was that no one really comes out on top. But still. I have plenty left to do. I've known since I started that it would have to end like this, but does it have to end now? What about my daughter, now living with Tony and my bitch ex-wife? Could I really abandon her? \n\n*Well, you sort of already have. When's the last time you saw Ellie? A month ago? Three?*\n\nI curled my lip, hating the voice that had come alive again in the last year or so. I thought I gotten rid of it, left it behind, but I guess the stress from the divorce had gotten to me. \n\nNo, not just the divorce. Plenty of people get through a divorce, even a nasty one where you learn your wife has been cheating on you for the last four years of your life together. Even one where she gets the house, the dog, and to keep your only daughter from seeing her father. Even one where she takes the life you've spent so long building, even leaving the business that enabled you to do so because she wants you in a \"legitimate\" job. A desk. A boss that hates you. And you leave, and it all falls apart...\n\nI put the gun to my temple. It was good being my own boss again.", "The green blinker flickered on the small laptop, the secure link with the agency connected. Bounced off thousands of servers all over the globe randomized every ten seconds or less, untraceable.\n\nI type my acknowledgement.\n\n 46243: Contract?\n\nI wait.\n\n Agency: Your quota has been reached.\n\nI wait.\n\n Agency : New Contract:\n Name: #46243\n Amount: $0,000\n Location: Unknown\n Due: 1 week\n #### Alert: This contract has been given to other agents. ####\n\n Agency Disconnected. \n OS Client remotely neutralised. \n Sorry #46243.\n\n\n", "I am the best killer in the business. Wyatt Porter. I get the highest paying and most difficult jobs. And I never fail. \n\n\"Mr. Porter, a new contract has arrived,\" Amanda McLoughlin, my assistant, informs me and sets the sealed envelope on my lovely oak desk. I open it up. The dossier stops my blood cold. The file on my target is my own. Along with a handsome two million dollar check. I devise a plan. I key in the order for the driver service I use commonly before draining all of my accounts of my funds before depositing it in a different account. Then, I enter in the command \"Whiteglove\" into my computer, which does a total wipe of the hard drive. I grab my laptop and my equipment before hitting the hidden button under my desk. I step out into Amanda's are.\n\n\"Ms. McLoughlin, you were a wonderful employee. Thank you for your service, and I seriously regret having to do this,\" I tell her before firing two silenced pistol shots into the back of her head. I head down to my car before rigging my next phase. The black Lincoln Town Car I hired arrives. I enter the car and tell the driver to take me to the airport. When we're a suitable distance away, I trigger the explosives rigged to my car. Wyatt Porter died in a freak far explosion. But Ryan Marshall has a ring to it. I purchase a place in Hawaii. Retirement should be fun.", "Retrieving the envelope is usually the most intense part of this briefing, until I was handed the Wilson.\n\nNever before was I handed a 9 mm handgun, a gun that matched my name, Wilson!\n\nLeaving the cafe, pocketing both the gun and the envelope, I rushed to the loft. \n\nQuickly opening the envelope upon my entry to the loft, I only then realized what my next job was...*boom* went the gun.\n", "People usually talk about life being invaluable. That no two humans are equal, and so their replacement cost is infinite. In my vein of work, however, human life has a price. A high price, but still limited. Depending on how much a death is needed, the price will be higher or lower. After all, if you had a 75 kg bag of meat, you would be able to put a price on it, wouldn't you?\n\nAnd so, my life consisted on getting the name of my next target. I'd then go, do the deed, and get the money.\n\nThings changed when I got a call, requesting for a meeting at a shadowy corner of the industrial district, where at night it'd be quiet and calm. As I was walking to the intended place, I noticed the man that was waiting couldn't even stand still.\n\nAs I got there, I got a better look at him: bald, old, obviously trying not to arouse suspicion, with circular lenses wider than my arm. Thin and tall, I could smell he had never asked this kind of thing from anyone.\n\n\"Hi.\" I started.\n\n\"Hi. Uhm, are you the man for the, eh, job?\"\n\nSuch a question was frowned upon in my industry. It'd be like if a computer instead of asking your password, asked you \"Is your password so-and-so?\"\n\n\"Yes, and don't ask that again. Who am I going to do?\"\n\n\"Ah, a man. He killed my wife ten years ago, and the case got filed away. Here's the file on him, I got it with a, uhm, friend's help. Please, get rid of him. I can't stand knowing he got away.\"\n\n\"I wasn't asking your life story. Just give me the folder and the money.\"\n\nHe handed it to me, and as I was about to check it's contents, he asked me if I had fire. Once he lit up the cigarette, he coughed. When he returned my lighter, I noticed a kid walking down the street.\n\nYou see, this kind of situation is where one would try to act natural. It is unwise to panic and run. Yet that is exactly what this old asshole did. He got into the car and sped away. Now the kid would tell his parents, they'd get scared, they'd be more prone to talking to the police if they saw something, and it made this place less conductive to have meetings.\n\nSo, as he left, I walked back home, opening the folder to see the contents. My photo. Well, this was new. There wasn't much in the way of evidence. The file stated that I was suspicious, but it never got resolved.\n\nAnd then I remembered. It was the first time I had been interrogated. I had managed to stay calm and get out, but files stay there forever. It had been a successful murder: the woman had a debt that required payment, but it was long overdue. Interests had accumulated, and she didn't have anything of the same value, except her life. And so I went and did the thing I do best.\n\nAnd so, I needed to get rid of myself. There's an old thought experiment, about answering the question of whether if you change every plank in a ship it's still the same ship or not. I know where I stand: Having changed my name, my identity, my country, my job, my family and my body made me a different man, with the memories of the one I used to be. Technically, I got rid of the man that murdered his wife, didn't I?", "35 years of blood and shit and terror. Not to mention the money. All that money. \n\nHow much do I have stacked away?\n\nDoesn't matter. Hadn't been about the money for a long time...had it ever?\n\nLies.\n\nOf course it had. The money and the cars and the women and the drugs and the pleading and bleeding and the beatings. 35 years of it and for what? For this? Staring up at the ceiling of some shit hole hotel room. To rat face drunk to hear the buzz of the ten dozen flies they didn't tell you you'd be sharing your room with. Too burnt out to give anything remotely resembling a shit...probably a good thing. It's long past boiling point. Fuck, there's nothing left to boil, just hissing cracking metal. That one last chance.\nIt comes down to this: run with the money you can for as long as you can until they find you, and they will. And then they will make you give her up, you've done it a thousand times before. Fuck. It will be someone you know doing it to you. You'll hold out best you can but they'll start to ask hard and you'll tell them everything they want to know and then some and if you're lucky they don't tell you what they're going to do to her or make you beg for that bullet. So what? So then it's two bodies instead of one. One last chance to do one good thing. Was it ever a question?\n\nA long hard gulp. The whisky burns. Another. Another. The third seems to clarify the matter as much as it needs to. The bottle clinks to the floor forgotten. Underneath the pillow where she'd always lived. Even in this sweatbox heat the metal is cold agaisnt the skin. \nSafety is flicked\nThe lever clicks. \nThere is a bang he never hears.\n\n\n", "I don't think anyone has ever explored just how dangerous a single piece of paper can be. The one I was holding in my hand would hold a death. Paid for and ordered by some anonymous donor. \nI wedged my fingernail under the opening of the letter, ripping it open. My eyes widened marginally at the contents . . . *this was new*.\n\nYou see things in my business, some that would make the average man pale. I am rarely surprised any more, but *this . . .*\n\n . . . *this was unprecedented.*\n\n\nCrisp and white, the slip hovered in the air, drifting slowly from my empty hand. \n\nThis one had a name on it.\n\n*Mine*\n\nNever let it be said that I failed a contract. \n\nI raised smooth steel to my temple.\n\n\n\n", "I walked out of the office leaving everything behind.\n\nThree months later, I'd accessed my a money cache, moved my off-shore money to safety (and eventually into hard currency), brought a backup persona to life, and begun working a straight job.\n\nLife is good." ]

[ 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 9, 11 ]

[ "1404393339", "1404403661", "1404409706", "1404414485", "1404419943", "1404422761", "1404392584", "1404411686", "1404418516", "1404399383", "1404392336" ]

[ "The morning sunlight breached the shades of the window on the far side of the bedroom, shining light on John's face and waking him. He sat up, trying hard not to disturb the others lying in his bed. He looked to his side to see his Sarah, his wife of five years, asleep on her side facing him, their five year old daughter Kristen tucker under her right arm. John smiled to himself and glanced over to the digital clock sitting on the night table. 7:00 am. A little earlier than he would normally get up on a Saturday, but this Saturday was different.\n\nHe gently rose out of bed and made his way to the kitchen, every step triggering the creak of floorboards that seemed to echo throughout the entire house. John eventually found himself standing in front of the refrigerator, on which hung a calender with a picture of a golden retriever on the upper half, a gift Sarah had received for volunteering at a local animal shelter. John let out a soft giggle that quickly dissipated when he looked down at the date. It was the twenty first of June. Exactly one week since his visit to the doctor.\n\nDespite trying to forget it as best he could, he remembered that day vividly. He remembered the doctor telling him that in one week at 7:32 am his heart would fail. He remembered the worried look on Sarah's face as he walked though the front door. He remembered telling her how great the appointment went, as well as how happy she was to hear the \"good\" news. John began to wonder for a moment whether he made the right choice by lying to her, whether it was really fair. He shook his head in frustration, snapping himself out of his daze.\n\n\"God dammit,\" John whispered. \"I just want to do something nice for my family, is that so much to ask? Just one last thing before - \" He fell silent. Without saying anything further, he took out a carton of eggs from the fridge and started making breakfast.\n\nA few minutes had passed when he looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:28 am. John swallowed and began to shake slightly. He looked down at the floor, counting his now painfully apparent heartbeats...wondering how many would be left. The thudding in his chest filled his ears as time began to slow and his surroundings seemed to fade from reality, as though he only existed on a canvas and the very world around him was slowly being erased. Though just then he was pulled back to his senses when he saw his wife and daughter standing in the kitchen doorway.\n\nKristen ran over to her father and wrapped her arms around his legs. \"Good morning daddy!\" she yelled.\n\nSarah followed shortly behind her and gave John a kiss on the cheek. \"We though we smelled something good. You haven't cooked for us in ages, what's the occasion?\" she asked. She picked up Kristen and sat her down at a table in the center of the room.\n\nJohn didn't respond. He only stared at his wife and daughter. He clenched his eyes shut as a tear began to trickle down his cheek.\n\nSarah looked back at him in confusion. \"What's wrong ho-\"\n\nJohn continued to stand with his eyes closed, confused as to why his wife hadn't finished her sentence. After a moment he slowly opened them, letting light rush through his eyelids. He looked up at Sarah, who stood frozen, mouth agape. Kristen, who sat at the kitchen table, neither moved at all. It was then that John has realized that the thudding that had tormented him for the last few minuted had ceased. He looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:32 am. The seconds hand sat motionless, lightly suspended directly over the black bolded \"12\" at the top of the circle.\n\n", "*Am I dreaming?* Todd thought to himself. This was a startling event for Todd. A average male and office job, lives alone with his cat, pasta. It was only a month ago that he was diagnosed with an odd disease that transformed his blood into some weird substance that scientists are still trying to break down and discover the properties of. The good doctor told him the exact time that all his blood would be transformed. It is currently 6 minutes past said time. \n\nAll manner of possibilities were running through his head, Misdiagnosis? Wrong time? Off clock?....God?\n\nNot a moment too soon his apartment window flew open, sending the wind over his desk, swiping the paper away. A man in green stood at his window, and a moment later in his apartment.\n\nTodd felt he should of been scared, he knew he should of been. But he couldn't help the sudden and mysterious warmth that spread throughout his body. He hadn't felt a warmth like that since he lived his greenfields, Germany with his mother and.....and...\n\n\"Todd\" The man said.\n\nTodd was taken out of his daze of Greenfields and lambs. Though something else caught his eye, something was off-....it was now daytime. \n\nTodd immediately jumped from his chair in a shock. He locked his eyes on the door. Just as he was about to make a run for it the man stood in his way.\n\n\"Todd\" The man said.\n\nTodd fell backwards onto his blue and purple striped carpet. \"Who-who are you?\" Todd managed to say.\n\nTodd could start to make out the man's facial features, though the hood was proving that difficult. \n\n\"That is....very hard to explain.\" The man answered, kinda.\n\n\"Well...why are you here then?!\" Todd shouted.\n\nThe man's facial features looked sharp. Though it was the man's tattoos that caught Todd's eye. \n\n\"Tell me Todd. Do you know what this symbol means?\" The man asked as he pulled out a crest that's meant to be stitched on clothing. The crest was a red leopard with a lightning bolt going through it. \n\nTodd had never seen before in his life, though there as something about it. \n\n\"I've never seen it before in my life.\"\n\nThe man in green's face began to clench and it look like he was about to whimper. This was when Todd fully saw the tattoos. \n\n\nEdit: Well, I just reloaded the page and saw that you changed the prompt. Kinda makes this story irrelevant now. Great.", "It was weird...\nSince the last teen wars, the Central Agency for Elder Regulation, forced all newborns to be implanted with The Device. The Device would monitor them and keep them healthy until they were scheduled. \n\nThe day you are scheduled, you die.\n\nThat should have happened. I mean, the screen showing my scheduled date showed 00:00:00 and now, it is just showing static... \n\nAll were there, my family and friends. We had gathered to dine and say goodbye, all expecting to see me die, to cry and mourn my loss, and there I was, waiting until The Device sent its lethal package to my nervious system.\n\n\"What is going on?\"\n\"Check his Device! It isn't working\"\n\"Neither is mine! It's halted!\"\n\nThen we realized that everybody's Device were halted. The time wasn't running.\n\nI began laughing, softly and timid, but as seconds passed, my laughter would grow histerically. Then, I heard mother's laughter, and dad's, and soon all of us we were laughing, I WAS ALIVE!\n\nWe began celebrating my new birthday, screaming and laughing, until I heard the most dreaded sound... The maglev underground was passing over my place.\n\nJust before receiving 10.000 volts in my cerebellum, I could glimpse a thought...\n\n\"Fuck!, when the underground comes, I have no reception...\"", "*Did we finish too early?*\n\nI stubbornly refused to look at the fantastically accurate cesium clock at my bedside.\n\n*I will not look away and ruin this moment. This is the last chance I'll ever have.*\n\nMy wife is staring back at me. Her eyes are red with crying, but a new emotion is growing in them. Fear? Hope? She won't look away. Can't look away.\n\n*What if the clock is wrong?*\n\n*How long have we been here?*\n\nSome people have wild parties. Some go to exotic places. Some just walk and keep walking until the timer runs out. We all do this now that the destiny calculator can tell us with flawless accuracy the moment of our deaths.\n\n*Don't blink. You might miss it.*\n\nWe had talked about it all our lives. Everyone did. We talked to coworkers about our bucket lists in the bright day. We confided our fears to friends and lovers in the dark night. I had thought of all the things I could do. I could go to Alaska and hunt one of the last polar bears with a spear. I could take every drug known to man and die cresting the highest high I could find. I could die on the peak of Mount Everest and let my body fall from the roof of the world.\n\nI didn't want that. I just wanted on more night with her. One more night to hold her. I just wanted to die looking into those eyes that had seen so much of my life with me. I wanted my last sight to be the face that I had woken up to everyday for the last 50 years.\n\n*How long has it been?*\n\n\"Were...were we wrong?\" she finally spoke.\n\n\"I don't know. Today's the day. This is the hour.\"\n\n\"But you're still here...\" she said softly, like a sigh of relief.\n\n\"Yes. I guess I am. But now I don't know what to do.\"\n\nShe blinked slowly. \"I guess we have to live like people used to live, and never know the how much time we have left.\"\n\nBut by the time she opened her eyes, the light had already left his.", "I couldn't open my eyes. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to simply open my eyes. Sweat began pouring down my face. I didn't want to see what was next, I wasn't ready. My heart was beating so fast and so loud that, that was all that was audible. \n\nBut that couldn't be right, could it? I haven't had any previous experience being dead, but I'm pretty sure that your heart stops. After what seems like eternity, I released my sealed eyes.\nEverything was a blur, but quickly came back into focus. The dull grey of my cubicle wall greeted me. I didn't understand, the doctors were never wrong. The longest delay we ever heard of was by 30 seconds, and even then it was a freak accident. This wasn't right. Workers typically get only 25 years. We are expendable and need to replenished in order to increase productivity. Only the youth can keep up with how much work we need to do. \n\nI stared at my lone, ordinary desk. My letter of resignation/will lay there giving everything I had to the company. I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming, so hard the blood began trickling down my arm. The rush of adrenaline made me immune to feel the pain but I knew I was still alive. Was this a game? Was I being tested?\n\nI looked up out of my cubicle and saw everyone hard at work. I worked here for for as long as I can remember and I knew no one's name. I couldn't call for help or tell anyone what was happening to me. Then a woman at the back of the office looked at me quickly, and then whispered to her colleague. The man sharing the cubicle adjacent to me was looking at me, I had never seen this man in my life. I saw the boss erupt out of his fancy 10x10 room with glass walls that observe us all as we work. He was coming right to my cubicle. They know something had gone wrong. The spotlight was on me and I had to run away from it. I ran out of the office, my boss calling my name as I ran out. I don't know why I was doing this but I knew I had to get away from him. I raced down the stairs jumping whole sets at a time, looking up to see if I was in pursuit. I was almost out of the building, just a few more stairs left.\n\nI slipped on the last stair set and my head slammed into the door handle. Darkness quickly fell upon me. But I awoke. I looked at my watch, I had been out for maybe 10 minutes. I stood up quickly, seeing my own blood on the door. I knew they would all be out there. As soon as I walk out they are going to arrest me. It isn't fair, I have been given a second chance! Why couldn't they leave me in peace?! It wasn't my fault!\n\nThere is a 3 story building with a 10 foot gap right next to the building I was in. I ran to the 6th floor, no one could possibly predict that's where I was going to be. As soon as I got there all eyes were on me, some screamed. They all knew I shouldn't have been there. They won't let me go! I ignored all their voices and ran towards the window. Elbows first I burst through the window, glass shattering everywhere. I landed on the roof of the other building. This time adrenaline wasn't enough. The glass has lodged itself in my back and arms. I writhed in pain. I looked to the window I had just jumped out of. A crowd accumulated where I once was. They were on their phones. I knew they were calling the police to take me away so they could get their mistake corrected. Now was my chance, I had to get away. The ladder was on the opposite side of the roof. I ran to the ladder and reached out for the first rung. I was instantly repelled. My arm swung back, bringing my body with it to the ground. I tried again but to no avail. This wasn't fair! I tried again and again but nothing. Tears began to roll down my face as the pain grew more intense.\n\n\"Why don't you return to your desk?\" \n\nI spun around to see my boss. How did he get here?! I opened my mouth to scream at him but no words would form, only silence. I couldn't even hear the aggressive beating of my heart. Was it even beating? No this can't be, this can't be what happens! They convinced me I had a second chance! My boss slowly began walking towards me. I began doing all I could to get to the ladder but he wouldn't let me! I folded up into a fetus position as he was inches away from me, the tears and blood forming a revolting mix on the rooftop. All of who I was washed away onto the roof, I was no longer the same man. Then, darkness.\n\nI was at the bottom of the ladder when I awoke next. Everything was a dream. I decided to walk to work, as I should. I looked at the building. It couldn't be. How... The 6th floor window was shattered, I saw the glass on the ground, and I remembered the pain. I checked my watch July 3rd 9:34am. One more minute left. I closed my eyes again, hoping for redemption, maybe this time I will earn peace. I open them once again, everyone on the street is staring at me. One face stands out among the crowd, the only distinguishable face. Terror and fear are the only emotions that are present. The face looks at me and quietly says one word:\n\n\"Run.\" ", "I had timed it exactly right. I had made certain that every loose end in my life was tied, and they got it wrong. A betrayal of bureaucracy should have been expected, but no one has defied their Date since it was established 26 years ago in 2021. I should have known, I should have planned for this. Everything had been planned since I received my Date. 7 years of making decisions all based on a set of letters and numbers distributed by a dull gray building two blocks from my apartment. I had left the woman I loved because I knew I was going to die early, I had let myself fall into debt because of my indifference towards my short life span. School? No, it’s not worth it, I’ll never get a real job anyways. Friends? Few, not too close, I can’t cause them pain. The ripe age of 23, too young for my taste. \n\nFor the past 24 hours I have frequently stared at my Date stamp imprinted on my wrist, wondering how exactly I would die. In perfect health and perfect sanity, I had been formulating various freak accidents that could happen at any time. Being hit by a truck, heart attacks, murder, choking on my dinner, tripping and breaking my neck. I had virtually formulated it all, written every possibility on the white walls of my one room apartment, staining them with thick black ink. It didn’t matter. \n\nAn hour before my Date I drove to a vista at the peak of a nearby mountain. The sun radiated hues of violet and pink as the sun began to set and my life began its end. Car accident, aneurism, something. Something had to happen. I looked at my wrist. It was printed clearly in black 8:00:003 PM EST March 6th, 2047. I had accepted this fate, as people have learned to do with the coming of this technology. I’ve accepted that I’m going to die. But not this way. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.\n\nI looked at my watch, stared, entranced by the seconds hand pushing the blade into my temple. I had had enough. At exactly 8:00 PM I jumped, knowing my fate to be futile. I was supposed to die 30 milliseconds after my jump but as I stared at the trees reaching up to engulf me, it was already 8:00:30 PM. How had my Date been wrong? They were never wrong. My entire life has now been wasted planning around an insignificant and meaningless set of numbers and letters distributed by a dull gray building 20 miles from here. \n\nIn those last few seconds I was thinking of the decisions I made. I tried to make life better for those around me just because I saw myself as a lost cause. I had tried to make everyone happy. I betrayed my own happiness for theirs…. But I didn’t regret it. I had changed the world around me and made other people’s lives better because I had sentenced myself to a life of calculation. At exactly 8:01:100 PM EST on March 6th, 2047, I hit the hard, rocky soil of the forest floor, and it was okay. \n", "For as long as I can remember, those numbers have been there just floating in my mind’s eye. As a child, most do not have a grip on the reality of time- no understanding of just how finite it is. I never enjoyed going to the parties for those who were “zeroing out”, attended by all their friends and family to see them off, feigning merriment. I would rather spend my precious time completing what needs to be done. \n\n94,608,000 seconds to finish up his education. Another 8,600,727 before I found my job. Not record times, but still respectable. There were so many things I had to get done before I zeroed out. Get a house, get a job, find a wife, start a family. All of these I had successfully checked off my list with 6,000,000 seconds left.\n\nI never told my family how low I was getting, but at 86,000 I told them I was going away for work. We spent one last Sunday night together, but to them it was a normal night. \n\n20,168 remaining when I checked into the hotel. Plenty of time. \n\nSitting down with my pen and paper, I began to write out all of my possession. Of course, everything would go to Katherine, but I just wanted to be sure. This task took longer than I expected, but I still finished with 3,600 left. \n\nWith everything in order, I washed up to make preparing the corpse as easy as possible and lay down on the bed. I closed my eyes and just watched it tick down. \n\n2,000 left. Looking back, I am content with what I had completed. I did what was expected of someone with this given time limit. \n\n500- I would expect to feel something at this point. But not even my heart was racing. The rhythm of the “thump thump thump” seeming to match the seconds as they ticked away. \n\n60- I close my eyes so the serving staff do not have to do when they find me and breathe in deep.\n\n10- Here it is, will there be a light? \n\n5- Maybe just darkness. \n\n3- Katherine\n\n2- My kids\n\n1- Mom…\n\n0... Me\n\nHow 0? I open my eyes to find I’m here in the hotel still. The street is as busy as it had been. My heart is racing, with nothing now to set its pace to. I thought I finished what I had to do. I don’t know why this is happening, but I am sure of only one thing. Now that I have reached 0, now that my time is up, now I can start to live. \n", "Thomas had a problem.\n\nHe checked the mark on his right wrist; 11:59:52...\n\nHe checked the watch on his left wrist; 12:00:12...\n\nBy rights, Thomas should be dead. 11:59:52, July 3rd, 2014. That was his appointed time. Everyone had their appointed time. That was the point.\n\nWhen the marks first started appearing they had been met with trepidation. When it was discovered what they meant, trepidation escalated to panic, then to despair, and finally a kind of tremulous acceptance.\n\nSlowly, people found themselves drifting back to living how they had always lived, except for people who worked in life insurance, who had to get proper jobs. For everyone else, knowing when you were going to die didn't really impact much on day to day life. Get up, go to work, come home, watch TV and argue with your family for a bit, go to sleep, and repeat.\n\nThe marks were seen as a blessing if anything. If you know when you're going to die, you can plan your life accordingly. You can make sure your family is taken care of and that your affairs are in order, and you can do those copious, capricious things you had always wanted to do. Ride an elephant. See Paris. Ride an elephant through Paris if you like. The last month of life had become a kind of celebration in this regard, the opportunity to fulfil desires that had been a lifetime in the making.\n\nThis was the root of Thomas' problem.\n\nHe had no children, and his marriage had not been a happy one. He had not felt the need to make arrangements for his wife, quite the opposite; he had taken out an absurdly onerous equity release mortgage on their house and slept with her sister. He had also recorded the encounter and sent the video to all her friends.\n\nTwo weeks ago he quit his job in spectacular fashion by removing his clothes, breaking into his boss' office with a fire axe, and urinating over the desk while his boss was in situ. He then strode proudly out of the building, pausing occasionally to tell several people exactly what he thought of them, and disappeared. Nobody had heard from him since, and he had assumed nobody ever would again.\n\nWith the money from his house, he rented the penthouse at a nearby luxury hotel and very sensibly engaged in a fortnight-long, drug-fuelled orgy with as many prostitutes as a two bedroom end terrace would allow, topped up with a series of optimistic credit card applications, all made in his wife's name. And now he had a problem.\n\nHe checked his mark again. 11:59:52...\n\nAnd his watch? 12:00:12...\n\nIt had stopped ticking. He mused over the irony of using a $2 watch to measure his debaucherous descent into oblivion and began considering his options.\n\nHe had thrown away what passed for a personal life. He had no job and probably wouldn't be able to count on his old boss for a reference. He was also effectively homeless and, with the help of the bank that treats you like you treat you, somewhere in the region of twenty thousand dollars in debt.\n\n\"Well\" he thought, \"That would appear to be that\". He opened the window, and jumped.\n\n-\n\nA man pushed through the crowd proclaiming medical credentials. The ground had not been kind to Thomas, but if it wasn't his time, it might be possible to save him.\n\n\"Find his mark\" the doctor insisted, \"Does anyone have the time?\"\n\nAbove them, the machinery of the old clock tower clunked compliantly into life, drew back its hammer, and tolled." ]

[ 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3 ]

[ "1404417432", "1404394078", "1404398959", "1404411603", "1404416027", "1404416833", "1404411452", "1404413053" ]

[ "The Captain looked down at the floor in despair. He was awaiting the presence of his Commander and Chief of Engineering. Word had been sent from Earth to his private terminal, that an enemy ship had fired a prototype missile at the Captain's ship, by a sadistic alien warlord from a far off nebula. The Captain had been told it was a missile of unimaginable speed and power, and despite being launched from a nebula, thousands of light years away, it was able to track the ship's every movement, leaving little hope for escape. The captain had but one option. Evacuate his crew on escape pods. The only problem? 419 crew members. 50 escape pods.\n\n*Bzzz Bzzz*\n\nThe sound of the door signified that people were awaiting outside the Captain's office.\n\n\"Enter\" he called.\n\nThe two crew members the Captain had called earlier entered the room. The Commander was a tall, stoic man with a dark hair. The Chief was smaller and not in the best shape. Both knew the Captain very well and by his facial expressions, they both knew something was wrong. \n\n\"We came as soon as we got yer call Cap'n.\" the Chief said.\n\n\"Thank you. I understand you are very busy, but I'm afraid that this takes priority.\" the Captain replied.\n\n\"What is the problem?\" the Commander asked.\n\n\"I'm afraid our ship is doomed. As we speak, a deadly missile is heading towards the ship and thanks to it's advanced technology, we have no hope of outmaneuvering it. Worse still, we haven't got enough escape pods to save the whole crew.\" the Captain explained solemnly. \n\n\"Great Scott!\" the Chief exclaimed, \"What are we to do!?\" \n\n\"I'm afraid I haven't a clue.\" the Captain responded.\n\nAll three men began to think furiously, until after a while, the Commander spoke up.\n\n\"Captain? If I had away in which I could solve the problem of the ship's population in such a way that that there would be no consequences or emotional damage to senior members of the crew, would you allow me to go ahead with it?\" the Commander asked.\n\n\"Of course!! We senior members have promising career's ahead of us after all. Whatever your plan is, please see it through\" the Captain said frantically.\n\n\"Very well Captain\" the Commander replied. He turned around to face the door. He pressed the opening button and leaned out on to the bridge.\n\n\"Ensign, set a course for Adarak Prime. The Red Shirts are going on a picnic!!\" he yelled.", "Commander Janice Ray looked up from the report to her CO, captain Ramirez Ondi, \"This... this is confirmed?\"\n\nHe nodded, \"The infiltration teams failed. The weapon was fired. Its target is Ander Prime.\"\n\nHer thoughts whirled from helpless rage and blank incomprehension to despondence, \"I never believed they'd use it.\"\n\nHe nodded, his features composed. She wondered how he did that, but it was a passing thought, a brief distraction from the yawning horror. After a few moments captain Ondi spoke and she welcomed the interruption to her thoughts, \"They didn't know we were in system. Still don't, and they just used their ace in the hole.\"\n\nHer eyes flickered to the captain but before she spoke she paused to give thought to his words. Without their sword of damocles they couldn't threaten anyone anymore, the war would be over shortly and the damned Vord would be scraped from the universe. He was right about that, but why would the *Day Break*'s presence in system matter? \"You mean us to intercept it.\"\n\nHe nodded, \"We're the only ship in the sector that might be able to manage it.\"\n\nShe thought back to the skirmish that had caused them to come here. The unexpectedly heavy damage and the long diagnostics to track down the faulty components. The difficult and time-consuming replacement that had held them in the Ander system for the last two months. They were still in the shakedown flights to test the repairs, and so had a significant number of extra diagnostic and repair personnel on board. \"When do we leave?\"\n\n\"Immediately. I will address the crew while you plot the course and get us started. There is no time to waste and we have little enough chance as it is.\"\n\nShe nodded, purposeful again, \"Yes sir.\" She turned and left his room for the bridge. He arrived shortly after she did, and there was plenty of curiosity from the bridge crew about the new course she'd ordered.\n\nHe sat in the command chair, composed himself, and keyed the comm for a shipboard message, \"Ladies and Gentlemen, our objective here has changed dramatically. The Vord have fired their phase missile. We've been able to discover their target: Ander Prime.\" He paused to let that sink in, \"This isn't the death sentence we thought, however, the *Day Break* can stop the missile. The only way to stop the missile is to force an early detonation. To destroy it. We are now making best speed for as early an interception as possible. All personnel not essential for this mission will be escorted to escape pods and outboard ships. There's a great deal of work to be done, lets get to it.\"\n\nMost of the repair personnel fled the ship on orders, leaving the *Day Break* with no remaining small craft, before she entered hyper. Usually interceptions in hyper are extremely difficult to achieve. Missing your target, or zipping past it were all too easy, and the difficulty of detecting a ship in hyper usually meant it was impossible to attempt, and if you missed your target you'd never find it again. However, the phase missile was, apparently, a different beast. No one outside the Vord really understood how the damn thing operated, but it was like a beacon in hyper. More than a week out and the *Day Break* already knew where it was. Interception would be easy. While actually destroying it would be beyond almost any ship in the fleet, the *Day Break* was the newest and most powerful ship in the fleet, and by extension, the known galaxy. The destructive and defensive power of the craft was almost literally beyond the comprehension of most sophont creatures. The phase missile was the only mobile thing whose destructive potential was greater. Everyone aboard knew that getting close enough to destroy it would doom even the *Day Break*, and using the small craft to evacuate the noncombat personnel left the ship without the capacity for everyone to escape.\n\nWhen they left Ander, Janice would never have guessed that who lived and died would have been their biggest concern. The Captain was putting together a list of personnel that had to stay, his name was on it, but there weren't enough pods for everyone. It wasn't a design flaw, the things were only designed to be used in emergency situations and had to be located close to the outer hull to be useful. There was simply a limit on how many people would have time to get to escape pods in a combat scenario, one everyone had accepted, and no designer had every really imagined a situation where full evacuation would be needed without the aid of a ship's small craft.\n\nThe ship was full of clever people, and they'd all done the math. Just a bit over fifty percent of the crew could survive, and less than twenty percent was necessary for the final attack run. That left most of the crew, hundreds of people, not knowing if they'd live or die, and a lot of them were doing everything they could to make sure their names weren't on the Captain's list. The Captain, however, wasn't paying attention to last ditch efforts. He was reviewing efficiency reports, looking at the quality of people, and Janice was helping. They were trying to make sure that the best people survived, which was subjective as hell, but they were the only ones to judge.\n\nWhen the ship dropped out of hyper and jettisoned the escape pods with the hyperspace beacon, there were a lot of unhappy people left on the ship. Their actions in the days before the final run ran the gamut. Some fought, some fucked, some withdrew, but none of them shirked their duties.", "I remember the shock felt at the news of the inevitable missile; Grief, for the ship that had been my home for so long; the intense relief at the memory of the escape pods. After that, it was all simple mathematics and rioting.\n\nThere hadn’t been enough pods for everyone on board. Most came to this conclusion themselves, and those who didn’t were told. As the unease escalated the second day, one of the brass, Lieutenant Colonel Armin, tried to calm us. He spoke of the lottery that would be used to determine who among the enlisted would be evacuated. Key word- *enlisted*. \n\nHe wasn’t able to say anything more after that. Dozens of His Majesty’s finest, myself included, opened fire, ripping him to pieces with a blinding barrage of searing blasts from hand-lasers. Several men mounted the stage where the officer had been standing a moment ago and used Armin’s own sword to decapitate him. Further desecration of his corpse followed, but this is the one that brought cheers from every man in hall.\n\nHowever, the festivities didn’t last long. Some people began to shove out of the room as soon as the brass bastard’s head was off. Others were too caught up in the bloodlust. It was a race now, a struggle to get to the escape pods. Unfortunately, my start was delayed. I was too busy swinging around the head of a man I had once admired.\n\nAs I assisted in the brutal and humiliating funeral, I remembered the crisis. My once fine uniform was covered in gore, the three silver knots of rank on my shoulder like steel tempered in blood. I ran, swimming through a river of humanity, trying not to drown under steel-toed boots. I wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted me at the boarding center.\n\nMen fought everywhere, all the brotherly bonds famous to the soldier’s life, broken. The deck was painted crimson and decorated with twisted corpses, slippery to walk on. Being an NCO, I had a laser. I began to shoot my way through, watching my back, wondering how many pods had already left. The answer was many. They were leaving so quickly, and in such large numbers, that the entire ship shook with their departure. \n\nI fought my way through the massive melee, using hands and laser alike. Spattered with blood as I was, most avoided me, given the chance. But the fighting was almost always too close to allow that chance. I killed more men in ten minutes than I had in ten years of soldiering. I felt no remorse at the time, no sense of my horrible degradation into a mindless beast.\n\nBut I felt it now. The fight had been three days ago, the same as when all the pods left. Some had only carried as few as one person. All had the potential to carry fifteen. Well over half of the crew would have been saved, had we had any sense. Now, well over half of the crew was dead.\n\nNo officers escaped. Every one of them was on display in the cafeteria, hanging naked from the rafters, body’s shred to pieces. The cafeteria was where the majority of the crew was. Draining the brewery’s in an attempt to drown their sorrows. Many had already committed suicide. Me? One more pint and I’ll be drunk enough.\n\n\n", "‘Don’t lose yourself in the moment.’\n\nI hold my head in my hands and listen to the soft drip drip of the food processor. It had been broken for the past two years, but I’d never had the time to fix it. An engineer is like a janitor on a warship, running from one emergency to the next. Of course, now I’ve got an emergency that can’t be fixed with a laser wrench.\n\nI learned about butterflies in grade school. After emerging from their cocoon, they have two weeks to mate, lay eggs, and then die. Two weeks. Fourteen days is their entire world. I have even less.\n\nThe lights overhead buzz to life and the ship gives the 0600 hours wakeup call. Shift change. There is no day or night in space, but we fake it. We keep such a tight hold on the turning of the Earth, even when we are so many miles away.\n\nThe escape pods left yesterday. Or was it the day before? All that matters is I’m still here. The lowest ranking member on a elite ship, signed on to a 4 year journey. Almost to my third year and.. and thats the thing about escape pods; there aren’t ever enough.\n\nWhy would there be, space is big. We’ve had months to fret over the missile headed our way. Plasma based propulsion is slow when it’s covering this kind of distance, but it is inevitable. We called for help, but they are even further out. After so many months of searching for a solution, we came to the only conclusion we could, cut and run. We just don’t have the legs for everyone.\n\nEven now, with so few days remaining, the seconds stretch out and the clocks ticks as if through molasses. Perhaps this is why the captain that stayed behind blew out his brains yesterday. Or was it the day before?\n\nI straighten and pull out my wrench, walking towards the food processor. Might as well make use of what time I have left." ]

[ 1, 2, 2, 3 ]

[ "1404415033", "1404414459", "1404416167", "1404412254" ]

[ "Ran over the road\n\nDouble decker, much too close\n\nMissed by a hair's breadth\n", "Long night without sleep\nShadow lurking in shelter\nBlink fast, and it's gone", "Distracted one second\n\nCar starts veering off the road\n\nI overcorrect", "Scanning for sniper,\nHe sees me and takes the shot,\nI think I'm dying.", "Swimming in the sea\n\nStrong rip current pulls at me\n\nCan't get back to shore", "Glass shatters, cries swell.\n\n\nFrom sweet peace to angry shouts.\n\n\nTears. Stop, daddy, stop!\n", "Alone in the dark,\n\nWalking under the street lamps,\n\nNo longer alone.\n\n", "I put my orange\n4 Inch Door hinge in storage\nAnd ate your porridge", "My daughter born grey\n\nSo many doctors to help\n\nLong moments till breath\n", "The wave pool turns on. \nTen year old me almost dies \nBecause he can't swim.", "Oh fuck, not again. \nShe called and said she is late. \nI hope it comes soon. \nEDIT: Formatting", "Followed to the car\nIt was dark and alone \nCar was next to mine. ", "Sinking cruise liner\n\nRumble, confusion, chaos.\n\nFew deaths, lost luggage\n\n", "avalanche finished, safe\nfollow fresh tracks\nstare into abyss \n\n(snowboarded after skitracks made by a paraglider, ended up\non a narrow ledge, barely made it out, Switzerland, off-piste ) ", "Screaming to the wind\n\n\nCar through the window oh no\n\n\nAll is better now", "He used a dog leash. \nGarage rafters survived, though. \nMom still cries at night. \n\nEdit: I'm a long-time lurker. I don't know how to format.", "Crazy night of shrooms,\n\nFriend suddenly claws my eyes,\n\nEnds in hospital,", "Caught with weed with friends\nCop found a half ounce on us\nHe let us go free", "I felt the water\n\n\nRushing fast into my lungs\n\n\nAnd then I passed out", "\"Please show me the spine\"\n\nPathologist complied\n\nButterflied infant", "Moth attacks from high,\n\nMy head hits the floor, bloody...\n\nGoddamn I hate them.\n\n(Seriously, moths terrify the shit out of me. Also, edit for formatting.)", "Broke the door open \nCat walks in. Mouth moves. No words \nCan't move. Cats can't talk. \n", "Anti-psychotics\n\nWere supposed to help. Instead,\n\nI heard strange voices. ", "Six years old, small town. \nAn old Man who was not there\ntaught me about war. ", "Hate for bugs, hard book. \nBroken glass and blood, killed fly. \nDon't be that dumb guy. ", "Cuts all on my arm \nAll I wanted was to die \nCan't leave this earth yet.", "Kayaking, when Smack\n\nSomething from above, near miss\n\nSuicide witness.", "Underneath water,\nIn a very public place,\nSprawled on the pool deck.", "Breath can't come in, choking \n\nBut no hands be seen \n\nSleep paralysis, nightmare ", "His body flew from\n\nthe thirteenth floor. Brains, blood, and\n\nbroken bones. I watched.", "Phone call, my sister\n\nHouse gone, we lost everything\n\nI don't know what's next ", "Was in a canoe \n\nSaw a poisonous spider \n\nCrawling up my leg", "longest two minutes, \n\nhorizontal blue blessing. \n\nphew it's negative. ", "Could not open eyes\n\n \n\nMy body on the cold floor\n\n \n\nTried to scream, couldn't\n\n---------\nSleep paralysis is frightenng.", "Watch Lord of the Rings \nFrodo rests in Rivendell \nBilbo goes crazy", "Smashed bottle, vodka\n\non the floor. Empty bed, blood.\n\nPanic. He's alive.", "Could be malignant\n\nProbably not but we'll check\n\nTurns out that it was", "You know what they say:\n\nLife goes on. But death, you see\n\nIt comes for us all." ]

[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 6 ]

[ "1404507962", "1404512088", "1404512160", "1404515560", "1404516782", "1404517153", "1404518657", "1404519791", "1404520065", "1404520134", "1404522393", "1404526880", "1404529649", "1404530998", "1404531574", "1404533418", "1404533797", "1404536824", "1404539133", "1404539388", "1404540737", "1404541181", "1404541385", "1404550558", "1404508464", "1404508857", "1404509840", "1404510502", "1404511757", "1404512949", "1404513354", "1404514177", "1404510049", "1404510359", "1404513614", "1404505688", "1404510255", "1404512317" ]

[ "It started out like any other day. Kids went to school, got on that big yellow bus and rode away. That was the first time i noticed it a flash a mere glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. I wrote it off it off as just my imagination after a long night, your mind seems to play tricks with fourteen hours of sleep deprivation. I started my day by opening up my computer and firing off an email to my boss on how the \"project\" was coming. The project being a horror movie poster for the small design firm where I worked. That was the second time I noticed it a small flash that moved down the hall way towards the kids room. Being the man of the house I checked it out, nothing to be found. I returned to my work till the kids and wife came home and settled for the night. Laying in bed that night I herd my oldest boy whimper that the monster where coming out again. He had always had such a vivid imagination.So I went to check his room with his door standing wide open I saw that flash again this time in his room heading towards his cracked closed door. He look at me with the most frightened eyes I have ever seen pointing with his mouth agape towards the closet. As I slowly creaked the heavy wooden door open I noticed that the closet was much bigger than it usually was and something slimy was hiding in the back closet. It looked at me teeth glowing in the faint darkness. This was the exact same monster that was designed on my computer and it was real and it was hungry. ", "I found the first monster in the living room, its yellow skin sagging. It was round and small, a softball with one eye and teeth like tiny needles. I put it in the toy box. I caught the second monster, another fat yellow softball, eating cookies in the kitchen. I put that one in the toy box too. \n\nI turned around, and there was a green slug at my heels. I opened the backdoor, and it slimed its way out. I didn’t see any more creatures until my son came home, and opened the toy box, swelled with yellow pinballs. ", "*It's all a dream. It has to be a dream* I thought.\n\nI knew about the nightmares. Lucy had told me all about them, the dark figure with red eyes standing in her doorway. Watching her, always watching, she could never escape.\n\n*I should have known. I should have listened*\n\nI hadn't believed. I don't want to believe. \n\nShe's at school, he's at work. I kissed them both goodbye this morning.\n\n*No. Please, NO*\n\nBut there's my husband. A smile, twisted in malice, sitting beneath his glowing red eyes. Walking down the hallway, bungee cords swinging in his hand, as he calls.\n\n\"It's ok deary. It's all ok. We're alone now. All alone. And it'll be over soon if you don't struggle.\"", "**A Bad Day**\n\nSlam went the door. Richard pressed his back against it, sweat pouring from his brow. The wood began to creak as it, whatever it was, smashed against it again. Richard almost lost his balance, falling forward. He scrambled to press against the door again, closing his eyes tight. Victoria came quickly now with the couch she had shoved from the other side of the room. Richard moved away from the door just in time. Joining his wife they pushed it up and against the door. Quickly they began to pile things behind it. The room shuttered rhythmically as they looked around.\n\n“We have to get out.”\n\n“What, what was that?”\n\n“I don’t know. We have to get out.”\n\nThe stood in stunned silence. Slam. Crack. The door was busted. Long, green spotted yellow tentacles began to reach in. Victoria screamed. Richard through a chair through the window.\n\nAs they began to climb through, they saw it. It dropped from almost nowhere. And then another, and another. Little pink blobs with no eyes. Razor teeth. Purple spikes all over coming in and out of its body. They bounced towards the window, maws gaped.\n\n“Fuck.”\n\nThey both backed away, a tentacle slapped Richards leg.\n\n“Oh, Jesus!” the pain was excruciating. Tiny needles were smashed into his ankle. Victoria helped him up and they hobble, ran to the side door and out into the kitchen. Richard collapsed onto the floor. Victoria grabbed an oven mit.\n\n“Do it.”\n\nShe wrenched the needles out of Richards leg. He screamed. There was no blood. The pain stopped.\n\nRichard breathed deep and got up. The pink blobs were bouncing off the window. Long breaks were showing up. They had to get up stairs. Who knew if Bobby was still there, still alive. If that damn thing had got him. Richard wasn’t sure what he’d do.\n\nThey heard a crash in the next room. It had gotten through the barricade. Richard shoved the fridge over with all his strength. It fell against the wall, blocking the door. Who knew how long it would last. Out the next door. The whole house a circle.\n\nThe dining room now. Open floor. There’s the stairs. Up now. They scrambled, and slipped, leaving everything behind them. End of the hall. Bobby’s room. They rushed. They opened the door.\n\nA roar of hot, disgusting garbage and slimey drool. There, before them, stood a beast. A beast beyond reason. Red horns broke through deep, brown fur. Yellow eyes stared at them. Blue fangs bared, and a nose snorting steam. What was this. Richard had seen this before. He thought of the fridge for some reason.\n\nThey backed away slowly. The beast pressed itself through the door and stood its full, eight foot height. It roared again.\n\n“Get Bobby. Make sure he’s safe.”\n\nVictoria jumped over the rail and landed on the halfway point of the stairs. She screamed at the beast to come and get her. It looked back and forth, and then charged down at her, boards crushing beneath him.\n\nRichard stood for a moment, then ran down the hall and into his son’s room, not knowing what he’d find.\n\nThere, in his race-car bed, slept Bobby. Sweet, sleeping Bobby. Richard picked him up, and held him tight. He was okay. He was fine. He squirmed a bit, and rubbed his eyes.\n\n“Hi, dad.” Such sweet words in this chaos. This… this… silence.\n\nThe house had stopped shuddering. The steps of the beast fell silent. There was nothing. Richard looked all about, and slowly stood. He walked back into the hall, and down his perfectly fine stairs. There, in the dining room stood Victoria, unscathed.\n\nShe stared at him. He stared at her. They both looked at Bobby. Bobby giggled, and asked for milk.", "We've gotten used to it, I guess. Everybody has. I mean, you don't really have a choice; that's one of the things you accept when you have a kid, you know? You go into it knowing that there will be a \"monster\" attached to him or her until they learn that the only to stop it or make it go away is to not be afraid of it. We all did it, and all the other kids are able to do it, and now we know about it, it actually makes it easier as parents. I mean, think about it: how much easier would it have been for us, as kids, to know exactly why we were scared of the dark, and to have our parents believe us? We're at that point now, even though that means being forced to live with that...thing for all these years.\n\nThe docs say hers is a little stronger than normal, but what can I do about it? It only bothers her, never leaves her room, and she isn't physically injured by it like some of those kids you see on the news, which I'm grateful for. We can't let her sleep in our room anymore, we found that out. The thing gets jealous and goes after me, likes its attached to Celeste or something. It absolutely hates me, and I've got the scars to prove it. But it never touches Celeste. Sometimes, I think its watching over her, and if it wasn't so damned ugly she wouldnt be scared of it. She's still young, though, so maybe it will go away faster than normal, since it isn't doing anything to her. I hope that doesn't change.\n\nI remember its manifestation, when Celeste called me into her room. I didn't expect it, at all, not so soon. She was crying when I walked in, and i realized too late the thing was waiting behind the door for me. It jumped me; I barely got my arm up in time to stop it from scratching my face off. I fought it, of course, but you know the parents can't hurt the kids imagination. Not physically anyway. But boy, did it take a big chunk out of my skin.\n\nI dont know, its just something all parents have to go through, but its worth it, you know? I'm scared things will change, of course, they can't always stay like this, but I'm hopeful. It could always be worse anyway, like the house across the way. Their kid had to go to one of those facilities the manifestation was so bad. Kept breaking things and attacking everyone. Poor kids in a wheel chair for the third time this year.\n\nI guess we're not so bad off after all.", "\"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!\" \n\nThe screams in the middle of the night were too familiar to even startle me anymore. My daughter Megan's cries came as regular as a rooster's crowing; always in the middle of the night. I sighed into my pillow and feigned sleep, hoping my wife would wake up.\n \n\"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!\" \n\nMy wife woke, rolled over and nudged me. \"Honey go see what Megan wants,\" she mumbled, thick tongued from her sleeping pill. I cursed, walking through the dark house I stepped on a lego. I cursed more. 3AM read the clock on the cable box.I open the door to my little Megan's room. She was sitting bolt upright in the middle of the bed, drawing a breath to scream again.\n\n\"Sweetie Mommy's sleeping. What's up?\"\n\n\"I need to go to the bathroom!\"\n\n\"Okay Megan. That's why we got you the gosh darn nightlight. You are too old for this junk. You go to the bathroom all day at school without Mommy or me. It is no different at night if there's light,\" I turned to leave.\n\"Daddy no! There a monster under the bed! Please! I have to go bad!\"\n\nI took her hand and we walked from her bed to the bathroom just steps away from her bedroom door.\nWaiting for her to finish I rested against the wall and inspected probed the sole of my foot with my fingers in the dark. The lego was embedded in my instep and felt moist. Blood? Yes, certainly, I had tracked blood all over the carpet. My wife would be upset when she saw. Work would be a nightmare on no sleep. I was suddenly more angry with Megan than I had ever been. When she opened the bathroom door the words just came out. \n\"Megan! There is no such thing as monsters. The only thing under that bed is what you put there!\"\n\nEven in dark I saw the shine of tears in her eyes. \"Yes there are! Yes there are! If you loved me you'd believe me!\"\n\nI knelt and held her shoulders. I told her I loved her but there really were no monsters, just bad dreams. Sobbing still, she insisted there were. I carried her back to her bed. As I stooped to gently lay her down, icy cold bony fingers with razor-like nails seized my ankles and tugged with an unnatural force. My shins slammed the bed frame. I tossed Megan to the middle of her mattress as I fell flat on my back. The lego in my foot hurt no more. The sound of my legs being devoured bit by bit in the snapping bone-crushing jaws of whatever was under there took care of that.\n\nThe last thing I saw before the monster pulled me under the bed with it was Megan's eyes shining in the darkness. \n\"See Daddy? I told you!\"\n\n ", "He’d been wrapped up in a world all his own ever since he’d arrived in this one. We’d been concerned, thought he might have a developmental disorder; he kept missing the “mile markers”: didn’t speak when he should have, didn’t toddle at the appropriate time, didn’t “engage” the way he ought. We took him to a professional: Autism, Aspergers, something, but no. He came up eventually, started doing proper, started acting normal, relatively speaking.\n\nHe’d described them, the phantasms, the foggy, blurry creatures that ran between his synaptic fissures. He, didn’t quite have the words, didn’t know “vampire”, “ghoul”, “gremlin”, “demon”, “monster”, not yet, not that they were sufficient. He made do with “pointy”, “dark”, “wrong”, but eventually, eventually he pinned them, found the word, found the right word: “evil”.\n\nThat was at the heart of it, that was at the core, the wyrm that chewed at the root of my son’s soul, and he’d found the word.\n\nAn imagination like that, well, we figured art. We thought he’d enjoy writing, painting, clay, something. If nothing else, it’d help exorcise the nightmares. We had hoped, we’d hoped that things would get a bit brighter, that he’d start saying “light”, “fluffy”, “beautiful”, and the rest would be pinned to the paper, glazed behind the paint, frozen in the clay. We had hoped.\n\nAfter he’d built a vocabulary, what struck me most was the specificity. I didn’t know where he was getting it. He asked for iron on his door, he asked for salt around his bed, he begged for steaks living wood. We obliged sometimes, if only to get some sleep, if only to avoid waking up, and seeing our son staring down, calmly and serenely asking if something could live after its head was chopped off. \n\nNow, now the shadows drizzle down the walls, now I’m forced to use my vocabulary. Now I have to pin down what’s gnawing at the heart of the world, the heart of my son, the core of myself.\n\n“Daddy, I tried.”\n\n“I know son,” God forgive me, I know.", "James was 23. He had been living on his own for six months in a small house outside of Baltimore. My wife and I were paying some of his rent, as he had been taking a lot of sick days from work. He never said why, and it was frustrating. He had a long history of depression, so I chalked it up to that. We would sometimes go weeks without talking to him.\n\nTwo weeks ago we got a call from his childhood friend Ryan. He said that he hadn’t heard from James for “some time.” After making plenty of unreturned calls, Ryan visited his house and noticed his car was missing. When he knocked, there was nothing. Curtains covered the windows, and when he peeked in he only saw darkness. He visited later in the evening and again knocked on the door. This time, he said, he saw through the window a light flicker. The curtain shifted slightly, and the light went off. He called out James' name, but got no response. He banged on the window, and still nothing. It was completely silent.\n\nI wasn't too concerned. James went through depressive episodes where he could barely get out of bed or even talk. Ryan knew all about this, but he kept saying this was different, that something was wrong. He wouldn't say what.\n\nOn the night Ryan called me I made the two hour drive in my old truck. I picked Ryan up along the way. He seemed tired and shaken. I asked him what was wrong.\n\n\"It's been a long week,\" he said. \"Do you remember Aunt Bunny?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I shook my head. \"We don't talk about that. Freaks me out.\"\n\nHe kept silent as we headed for James' house. It was annoying. He was always a paranoid kid, but when someone tells you they think your child is in some sort of danger, it's a bit difficult to ignore.\n\nI had never visited the area before, but I could tell immediately which place was James'. It looked like a shack. The yard was nothing but dead grass, and the whole house was a moldy wreck sinking into the earth. I couldn't imagine what it looked like during the daytime. \"Pull in over here. Visitor parking,\" Ryan said. \n\nI banged on the front door and called his name. There was no answer. I looked around to see if I might be bothering the neighbors, but the whole area was quiet.\n\nI pressed my face against the front window and tried to catch a glimpse of anything through a slit in the curtains. It was too dark. \"I have a key,\" I muttered to Ryan.\n\n\"Right. I brought a hunting knife.\"\n\nI stepped back. \"Why?\"\n\n\"We don't know what's in there. I've never been inside,\" he said.\n\n\"James is in there. He's probably asleep. Put that fucking knife back in the car.\" After some protest, he finally tossed it in the backseat.\n\nI pushed open the front door and felt for a light switch. I stepped forward and ran into something. It crashed to the floor. I cursed and finally managed to turn on the light.\n\nWhat was supposed to be the living room was filled with stacks of boxes and trash. It smelled of mildew and rotting food. \"God dammit,\" I said. \"He's a hoarder?\" I went through one of the boxes, trying to avoid touching anything sticky. It was just old newspapers and magazines--unsorted and completely unorganized. Ryan was shaking.\n\n\"What?\" I said, annoyed. \"What is it now?\"\n\nHe pulled out his phone and held it in front of me. \"He left me this message this morning. It's why I came over here, and why I called you.\"\n\nHe put it on speakerphone. The first few seconds were just static, but James' voice slowly came through, like he had had trouble speaking. \"She said she would come back,\" he groaned. \"She has a mouth now, and it smiles. I...told her...what she wanted to hear...but she said I'm not good enough. She wants more--\" He was cut short by a sudden wailing in the background. It sounded inhuman. James' voice grew quieter. \"She won't leave. She won't ever leave. I can't leave. She's been here so long. So long. Hiding until now. I can't--\" The message ended abruptly.\n\n\"We need to find him,\" I said. \"He's not right. Maybe it's the pills. They're making him loopy.\"\n\nRyan shook his head. \"You know what it is.\"\n\n\"Just shut up. He's got to be in his room.\" Ryan was starting to get to me. We didn't talk about it. It was something in the past. A childhood fantasy gone amok. We had all moved on.\n\nWe pushed through the boxes, knocking some over in the process. I stepped on a full bowl of cereal that had to have been sitting there for at least a month.\n\nMy disgust turned to horror when we reached the stairs. There was a drawing taped to the wall. Notebook paper. It looked like the drawings he made when he was a kid, but this was much more detailed--almost lifelike. It was of a female figure with long arms and legs, and long, gnarled fingers and toes. Her eyes were very sunken, corpse-like, and at the very center were small pupils, like she was staring right at you. Her mouth was wide with very thin lips, and her face was expressionless. Long, dark hair spilled down to her waist. But worst of all, she was completely nude; she was shaped like a woman but had no breasts or genitals. Just those long appendages and those sunken eyes. The figure almost looked like it was moving.\n\n\"Aunt Bunny,\" Ryan whispered, horrified.\n\n\"No! He said he was over that. You said she 'left him alone.' It was just his stupid version of a bogeyman! It’s been fifteen years!\" My voice cracked, but I maintained my composure.\n\n\"He said that she told him she would come back. He didn't know when.\"\n\nI sighed and started up the stairs. \"I need my hunting knife,\" Ryan said. \"Don't go up yet. I'll get it.\" He ran out and I ignored him and continued up the stairs.\n\nI could not see anything, and once again I was fumbling for a light switch. I walked around and ran my hand along the wall. I finally managed to get the lights on. All of the doors in the hallway were shut. I turned around and tried to figure out which one might be James' room.\n\nBut there was one door that wasn’t closed. The eyes were watching through the crack. They were so white, and those pupils so dark. The head slithered out further. Her mouth was curled. Within seconds door slammed shut. I screamed and Ryan came running up the stairs. “What happened?” For a moment I couldn’t speak.\n\n“I saw something...a face,” I said. “James!” I yelled out. But there was nothing. All I could hear was the sound of our own breathing.\n\nRyan’s eyes went wide and he pulled the knife close. “It’s not real,” he whispered. “He kept trying to show her to me, but she was always ‘hiding.’ She only wanted him.”\n\nAnother screech. My heart sunk. It was like a woman crying out in unimaginable pain, but it was inhuman.\n\nI kicked open two of the doors. A linen closet and an office. There were only two others, each at opposite ends of the hallway. We approached James’ room with our eyes set on the bathroom door, but there was no noise. I felt for the bedroom doorknob and pushed it open.\n\nThe stench made me wretch almost immediately, and again it was completely dark. The light from the hallway barely made its way into the room. All I could see was what looked to be an empty bed. I stepped over to the nightstand and turned on the light. \n\nAnd there was James.\n\nWhen the police arrived he was still nailed to that wall, spread-eagle and nude. His torso was stretched and his face was mutilated; his genitals were severed off. There were scratch marks along the wall all around him. Carved into his stomach was the message “NOT ENOUGH.”\n\nI still haven’t told my wife what we saw. The police searched the house and found nothing. The bathroom, they said, was completely empty. There were no leads on what may have taken place.\n\nAll we had was the drawing of Aunt Bunny." ]

[ 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 7 ]

[ "1404543907", "1404553412", "1404567083", "1404543059", "1404543569", "1404552886", "1404587913", "1404550332" ]

[ "Whoa! It's like a blinding light. \nErmahgerd! Shining so bright. \nI can see the bones clear through my hand \nAnd I'm leaving a mark right where I stand \n\nHoly cow! The heck is going on? \nI don't know, but will it last for long? \nWell I'm not about to wait and see \nCause now I've got jobs waiting for me \n\nAnd so I jump, and to the air I go \nI must go fast, can't afford to learn slow \nThere's damsels in distress out there \nAnd now I'm the guy with the biggest pair \n\nI fly so high, the birds envy me \nPlanes fly by, yea they're amazed to see \nThis glowing man from East L.A. \nWhose skin's grown white and hair turned grey \n\nWell I must land, it's all too much for me \nAnd my stomach is starting to feel queasy \nYea I think I'll lay right in this place \nCause the smile is melting from by face \n\n[There is also music that goes with this, but, ya know.]\n", "Glenn opened his eyes slowly. His entire body felt numb and his head pulsated with pain. *Where am I?* He sat up, drawing heavy, raspy breaths. The pants he wore had been torn and burned, his shoes were charcoal and the ground he had laid on was burned in spiderweb like patterns. He looked to the skies, but they were blue, and the sun bathed him in its comfortable glow. A sudden chestpain made him gasp for air and pound on his chest, and Glenn's entire body vibrated, shaking as if he were cold. As he clenched his fist from the pain, a static, vibrant humming emerged from around him, very much like the sound a powerplant would make. The grass around him slowly rised to the skies, crackling with electricity. That's when he noticed his arm were full of life and energy. His otherwise blue-green veins on his pale arms now flowed with pure, blue energy. When he clenched his fists, the flow would speed up, and accumulate in his palm. Glenn quickly learned that he could release loud, powerful controlled explosions from his hands, in the form of kinectic energy, or raw crackling lightning. He didn't know how, or why, but he refused to waste these abilities. \n\nChuckling quietly to himself, feeling empowered and awesome, he looked to the skies. They felt somehow within his reach. He took off, running as quickly as he could. The wind felt like a wall continuously pressing against his face with unimaginable force as he sped up, trees and lightposts soaring past him. His reflexes had been sped up by the thousands and he ran past a hundred cars per second in the city. *I'm fast. Really fuckin' fast.* He finally came to a stop about fifty miles from where he woke up, a shy minute from when he started. Glenn looked up to the skies once more and bent his knees, jumping with all of his strength. A sonic boom exploded beneath him as he soared into the air at the speed of sound, litteraly flying. Electricity cracked all around him as he flew through a cloud, laughing enthusiastically. *This has to be a dream, right?* Up ahead, he saw a storm, with dark clouds. It rumbled with thunder and a lightning bolt struck the ground below it. Glenn smiled and flew towards it, penetrating right through the dark clouds, into the heart of the storm. His laughs of joy quickly turned to worry as he litteraly felt the electrified clouds sap energy out of his body. The flowing energy seeped out of his veins, storing itself in the cloud. As he lost his abilities and plummeted to his death, the dark cloud above him let out a thunderous boom with the force of an atomic bomb from the energy it had stolen from him. It was the last thing he heard, for he was dead long before he hit the ground.", "\"Yeeeessss.\" and with a burst of raw uncomprehensible energy he burst out of the room as if he was no longer bound by the laws of physics.\n\nSoon he thought soon his hearts desire will be his and not even god himself had the power to stand in his way.\n\nAs his mind began to question how he come about this power he had arrived at the boon his powers had delivered him.\n\nNever in the history of man has such exquisite exhalation turned to complete and utter loss. With a roar that no longer resembled anything from this dimension he raged at the empty room.\n\n\"WHO THE FUCK ATE ALL THE DONUTS!\"", "Warning: Mild Language\n\nYou’ve felt like this before. Everything tensed, every movement ecstasy; everything executed with unrestrained, unrepentant, utterly impossible speed and strength. Before it’d been hormones, alcohol, drugs, an illusion or delusion that vanished with the light of day, but this is real, it has to be real.\n\nYou fly out the door, still putting on your shirt, feet bare, blood pounding, blood forcing, blood beating you forward, forward, forward. You have to fight, you have to push, you have to succeed, you will succeed, but….what?\n\nBroken beer bottles refuse to cut your feet, the sun begs not to blind, the roar of the city denies it can deafen, and you march down the alley, mind churning.\n\nYour soles hit the asphalt, tingling, burning. Your soul strains, and you’d like to fly, but toward what and for what?\n\nAll of this potential, all this force, all of this, all of this, and it’s tearing you apart. For what and toward what?\n\nTheir minds are just as broken, their minds will always be broken. Out of the alley and onto the street, the cars screaming, slamming, wrapping around a body that tears them as it persists. You hardly notice, you’ve retreated into thought; you walk through brick, mortar, concrete, mind pounding with your heels, beating to the blood, and you hardly notice.\n\nFor what, toward what?\n\nFor what, toward what?\n\nYou’d thought, you’d always thought, everyone thinks that they could, they could fix….everything.\n\nBut you’d better be damn sure.\n\nYou’d better be damn sure, or you’ll split this world in two.", "At first, it was funny. Maybe even hilarious. Flying about the city, seeing their awed faces as I lifted buses and outran trains. I never questioned. I became intoxicated. It was like a movie, and I wasn't waiting for the baddie to show up. \n\nThen it turned for the worse. \n\nI lost my family. My wife sent away my two beautiful children. What had been the light of my life, gone. \n\nI can remember the fear, the disgust on my mother's face. Her final words to me before she close that faded red front door that I remembered from my childhood... \"You just aren't the son I remember.\"\n\n I can remember the FBI kicking down my door... that's when my wife finally left. \n\nGreat power, great responsibility, right? I guess some people aren't meant for this. ", "Really think about it for a minute--\n\nthat rhythm in your chest\n\nsupplying clean, efficient fuel\n\nto your mind, your imagination,\n\nwhich is capable of anything.\n\nAnything.\n\nSuch power is a gift,\n\nrare across the whole universe,\n\nbut rather than play with the toy after you unwrap it,\n\nyou wonder who it's from\n\nand what you did to deserve it.\n\nYou squander your short time with the power to do anything\n\nin books, in church, in meditation,\n\nsearching for the *why* of it all,\n\nneglecting the *what* of it all.\n\nMost wonder why they're alive;\n\nI just live\n\nand trust that when my rhythm fails,\n\nthe story of *what* I did with my power to do anything\n\nwill answer *why*.", "*This is unbearable* he thought to himself even as he flung himself down the corridor.\n\n*I only have myself to blame, I brought this on myself*\n\nHe flung himself around a corner and his goal was within sight.\n\n*I have no idea which one did this to me but I swear I'm never going back again*\n\nReaching his target, he swiftly lowered himself onto the molded seat even as he felt the unknown energies within surging and desperately seeking a release. His eyes crossed as the sweat dripped from his brow, knowing it was mere moments away...\n\n*This is the last time I try to judge the national chili cook-off finals by myself*\n\n" ]

[ 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 5, 25 ]

[ "1404578865", "1404580235", "1404580377", "1404581201", "1404591712", "1404578823", "1404578652" ]

[ "\"An evil sword\"\n\n\"Yup I am pure evil crafted by Satan himself\"\n\n\"Why did he get rid of you?\"\n\n\"He didn't I was given to some of the greatest conquers history has ever known\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\n\"Yea I struck down more men then stars in the sky I caused more suffering then you can imagine\"\n\n\"But why?\"\n\n\"Because I am evil its what I was designed to do\"\n\n\"so what did you twist those people into doing your bidding?\"\n\n\"No, no humanity has the seeds for that in itself every human does. I just helped it grow\"\n\n\"How did you get down here?\"\n\n\"I placed here in honor of the soldier I was fighting with. He fell in battle and was given a burial with honors\"\n\n\"So your destined to spend the rest of your life down here in the caves\"\n\n\"No one day someone will come along and find me, like you have, but unlike you they won't be so kind hearted\"\n\n\"How long have you been down here?\"\n\n\"I am not sure maybe a hundred years, maybe more\"\n\n\"You know a lot has changed in that time\"\n\n\"Humans are still evil change does not scare me\"\n\n\"You can't even begin to imagine the changes I am talking about\"\n\n\"how so?\"\n\n\"We have new technology new ways to kill our enemies\"\n\n\"People will always need their sword\"\n\n\"Maybe for now but I don't see that being the case in the future\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"We have invented a way to push a small metal bead through the air very fast too fast to stop. it is capable of killing from 100 meters away\"\n\n\"100 meters is not much\"\n\n\"Not now no but they will improve just like they did with swords and bows and armor they will make it faster, more powerful and longer range.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"So your time is running out 100 maybe 200 years from now no one will use swords, You will waste away down here never seeing daylight never fighting again, When someone does find you they will sell you for some money or mount you on their wall as a memory of what was. they may even melt you down to make more weapons\"\n\n\"They can't do that, they won't my time will come again\"\n\n\"if you say so\"\n\n\"It will I know it\"\n\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Yes I am too good of a weapon to not be used again. My blade never needs sharpening, I am too sturdy I will never break. Just the sight of me makes weak men tremble in their knees\"\n\n\"if you say so\"\n\n\"I do say so! I will rise again to help the strong conquer the weak\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Don't stare at me like that. I am truly evil people will fear me once again, I can't spend the rest of my life down here. I am too good for that\"\n\n\"You could come with me\"\n\n\"Never\"\n\n\"You could come with me and be a force for good in this world\"\n\n\"Why would I do that? Help some pathetic weakling help even more pathetic people\"\n\n\"You wouldn't be stuck down here any more. You would be in the open air again, You could see combat again\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"You stay down here and you'll rot, come with me and we can be a force for good. You can help the weak and the poor.\"\n\n\"Never\" \n\n\"You could make a name for yourself one that lasts through out the ages\"\n\n\"I already h\"\n\n\"No you haven't, no one knows who you are. There are no tails around the camp fire about you. No one even knows your name. I have never heard about you. Those great conquers never spoke of their sword. Come with me and together you could live forever in the hearts and minds of people everywhere. They could hear of your tales helping the poor, defending the weak. Evil isn't idolized. They are feared no child says I want to be Alexander the great or Attila the Hun. They want to be Robin Hood or a King Arthur. Come fight for good, together we will be remembered for the rest of time. Kids will grow up talking of the famous deeds we did the lives we saved. Together we will be remembered for eternity as a hero. Villains themselves are forgotten people may remember their tactics and strategies, but their names get lost to time. Heroes are immortal\"\n\n\"No, I exist to cause suffering, not to help the weak\"\n\n\"So be it, right now the only suffering you are causing is your own, that may be the last you ever cause\"\n\n\"..............\"\n\n\"I have to get back it was nice talking to you\"\n\n\".....WAIT, Don't leave! You are right. I did not realize what suffering truly was. I do not wish to do this to anyone. I will help you in your quest.\"", "\"There's a lot of good for you to do, you know.\"\n\n\"No amount of your good, and your merit, and your praise will convince me to go against my calling\"\n\n\"Then what is this calling?\"\n\n\"My calling is destruction and chaos, nothing more.\"\n\n\"Nothing more you say? Then it looks like you're failing.\"\n\n\"What gives you the rig-\"\n\n\"You've done nothing but sit here and rot while every crook, beggar, and thief dies at your mercy\"\n\n\"That is because none of them were worthy\"\n\n\"And here I am, ready to take you from your own prison but you refuse because your *calling* won't allow it.\"\n\n\"Your insistence seems unmatched by your stupidity, fool\"\n\n\"Right then, I'll just take you anyway. Not much you can do and by the looks of it you can't stop me.\"\n\n\"You think you can just take me? Don't you know I could kill you!\"\n\n\"Oh, I know and so did the last guy that came looking for your power. However, difference between me him is that I could pick you up and tell the tale\"\n\n\"There aren't many like you human\"\n\n\"And if you don't help me there never will be\"\n\n\"You called this place a prison, when I could easily take any of these bodies and wreck havoc on the surface\"\n\n\"That's the problem with you evil-folk you always wait for a hero to come along and challenge you, well I'm here, I challenged you and you refuse **me**. Your reasoning and semantics mean nothing to me, you can either work with me or be a paperweight. The only direction I'm going is ahead\"\n\n\"Your stubbornness amuses me hero, I guess I will go with you. There is a condition however, you must never let me leave your grip. Only a fool would do such a thing.\"\n\n\"That's where you're wrong, the real fool is whoever put you here. So much wasted potential. After, today not anymore. Let's go then, a world is waiting for us\"" ]

[ 1, 2 ]

[ "1404675246", "1404640346" ]

[ "The door creaked.\n\nDaniel froze where he was standing, afraid. He lived alone, so who was it? Who?\n\nThe door opened, and someone came in. Daniel coundn't see him, but he was certain that the person was here to rob the house.\n\n*No, not that. I can't afford to lose everything I own*, he thought. He looked around, and his eyes fell on his knife, and he picked it up right as the intruder came in, and without a thought, he threw at at him.\n\nSomehow, it hit the intruder in the gut and lodged itself deeply there. Daniel stood frozen while the man died. It only took a minute.\n\nWhen the police arrived, Daniel was still standing over the body with a frightened expression on his face.\n\n", "Rob groaned in pain from work last night. His muscles are soar and he barely able to walk. His small dog, Banana, got up with him and nips at his legs. \"Calm down, Banana. We will go outside soon.\" His son went to his mother house last weekend, but he can't bring himself to clean up the lego mess in the living room. He balanced his arm on the end table as he walk by the lego mess. I need to clean that up soon he thought as he avoid the painful mess. He got to the bath room and took a piss. He quickly washed his hands in hot water and went out.\nHe walked back out heading towards the front door. He totally forgot the lego mess. He walked through the lego and his feet cried out in pain. He tripped over himself and hit his head on the end table.He screamed out in pain he was unable to move. His dogs barks at him to get up. Rob ex-wife enter the house five days later. Rob body was laying on the floor with small bottle water near by and a blanket.She cried out for him, but the smell of death filled the room. Banana near by whimper as she fell on her nears and cried. ", "Bob's kitchen was a mess. He reminded himself to clean it next Saturday, the hundredth time he had given himself that reminder. But right now he needed a bowl to make ramen. He looked around, but most of the bowls cluttering his counter tops were growing different varieties of mold. He opened the dishwasher, but it was empty. Opening the first cabinet found only Tupperware, and he needed something microwave safe. He opened the cabinet above his stove, but the tiny cabinet door was holding back a wave of dishes and his cutlery wrack. \n\nAs the knife wrack fell it spun and sprayed him with assorted steak and bread knives. For the most part he would be fine. A few small cuts, but nothing to worry about. Except that large gash running down his arm. It was bleeding alarmingly quickly. As he began to feel light headed he turned to grab his phone; unfortunately it was buried somewhere on his counter.\n\nHe was getting weaker, suddenly he realized how strong gravity was and he fell to his knees. He called for help, but he lived alone. Seconds later and he collapsed to the floor. He whispered for help one last time as blood pumped from his arm.\n\nAnd then Bob died." ]

[ 1, 2, 3 ]

[ "1404643196", "1404642008", "1404628964" ]

[ "Lord Paramount Bobb of reddit was sitting together with his Moderatormen, discussing choosing sides in the 4chan-Tumbler War.\n\n\"But we are all white, straight cis men, Tumblr will just ask us to check our privilege.\"\n\n\"You can't mean to declare us for 4chan, m'lord, they call us newfags, NEWFAGS!\", the Lord of r/pics responded.\n\n\"Pedobear did make me lol though\", the Lord of r/funny interjected.\n\n\"But they have like 70 % women in Tumblr. We don't listen to women! Well except our dear Lady of r/gonewild.\", Bobb retorted.\n\nThe discussion devolved into General bickering, until one voice drowned them all out. It was the Lord of r/asoiaf.\n\n\"MY LORDS, My Lords! This is what I think of Tumblr, and of 4chan.\" He spat on the floor, much to the amusement of the assembked Lords and Lady.\n\n\"What do These radfems and /btards know of r/Militaryporn? Or of r/Philosophy? Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again?\n\nWe bowed to good memes, but all the good memes are dead! Here sits the only Website I mean to bow my knee to. THE KING OF NECKBEARDS!\"\n\nThe Lord of r/GameofThrones stood up.\n\n\"Aye. I will have peace on these terms. They can keep their feminism, and their Shrek is Love, Shrek is Life too. THE KING OF NECKBEARDS!\"\n\nAll other Lords stood up and shouted in Unison.\n\n\"THE KING OF NECKBEARDS!\"\n\n\"THE KING OF NECKBEARDS!\"\n\n\"THE KING OF NECKBEARDS!\"\n\nThen they all died.\n", "The war was a small conflict at first, 4chan versus Tumblr. Child's play: shock image raids, account hacks, etc. Things did not stay that way for long, though. After a bit of silence, things got hot. Like they said in the old days, the war escalated quickly.\n\nReddit was the first to go. The site just vanished overnight. The domain name was in the hands of cybersquatters. The founders were nowhere to be seen. Then followed the Tumblr purge. All Tumblr blogs that weren't involved with this war - the hipsters, the anime fans, the superwholocks, all banned. Tumblr fell to SJWs' hands. \n\nWith Tumblr in their pocket, the rest of Yahoo fell as well. And we should've known what that would lead to… and Yahoo… It was more powerful than anyone ever thought. Everyone considered it a zombie, a collection of dead Web 1.0 startups - but one investment they made changed the entire internet. A large stake in a now-massive Chinese internet company, worth *billions*. And they used it to its full extent. \n\nThey took down Google, and threw internet into complete chaos. YouTube, Gmail, and most importantly, search, all gone. The internet fell into complete chaos. \n\nBack at the start, nobody noticed a seemingly insignificant event happening: /pol/ went completely dark. Days later, Tumblr became much more efficient. Now, after taking Google, they revealed it all. They *owned* the internet. Suddenly it did not matter much if you used a Mac or a PC, if you were a Christian or an Atheist, we were at war.\n\nWith 4chan being the last standing free community, former Tumblrites and Redditors all retreated there, plotting their next move, hoping to save the internet. Everyone always thought the war would be between 4chan and the rest of the internet. Guess they weren't wrong.", "The Big ones were there. Facebook, wearing her slutty T-shirt and hipster glasses. Twitter, highlighting random sentences on a book and posting them. Youtube, filming and narrating everything, always impartial, always impractical. Wikipedia, writing negative comments about Twitter for highlighting his book. Reddit, petting a penguin and taking dick selfies on the corner. Neither was particularly interested, but they had no choice.\n\nThen there were the teens. 9gag. Funnyjunk. KnowYourMeme. UrbanDictionary. They were having a fart contest and laughing their ass off. Youtube gave them a few seconds on camera, then he changed mind and went back to the documentary.\n\nSome children had obliged, despite the protests from both sides. ClubPenguin was playing with some dolls until Habbo slapped him and took one. The two started to fight.\n\nAnd then there were the reporters, a big line of blogs watching, typing and recording everything that happened.\n\n4chan kicked Habbo on the face and she left crying. Tumblr was about to start protesting, but then the speaker called her name. Google-sama was the moderator, as he was the only one whose opinion nobody asked for. Tumblr climbed up the stairs and took the microphone on the stage. Google turned off the ads so everyone looked at her.\n\n“Fellow websites,” she said, discretely showing her cleavage, “This is a dark day for internet history. A war, an uncalled war, has contaminated our utopic paradise.”\n\n“Why does your shoulder say *misandry*?” Reddit asked. He was healing Habbo with vodka, but nobody seemed to notice.\n\n“Misandry is bigotry against men,” UrbanDictionary said. “It’s promoted by sick branches of feminism, LGBT and some made up genders.”\n\n“They’re not made up, I swear I’m a wolf in a human’s body!” yelled Tumblr.\n\n“Good one, son, but next time try to be more neutral” said Wikipedia.\n\n“Shut up, you are not my father!” UrbanDictionary stormed out. “Go rule-34 yourself!”\n\n“Order! Order!” Google cornered them all with pop-ups until everyone was looking at the podium again. “Let the poor girl finish her speech, and then we can discuss it.”\n\nThe whole world was watching. It was time.\n\n“Thank you, shi- I mean, thank you, good man.” She moved her blue hair, trying to call more attention. 9gag was shamelessly looking at her boobs. “I know I’ve been a bit harsh in the past, but all I want is justice to be served. The Doctor would never tolerate our previous behaviour and we realised just today that we have been wrong. I understand now that not all white males are monsters. Just them.” She pointed at 4chan. “You and all your anons are guilty of everything. You planted the seed, it was an ambush all along! None of my dear tumblrites would ever do something like this if not for your trolls! And now you’re hacking us! We want justice! We want equality! And we do not want to be triggered!”\n\nTumblr took off her shirt. Her bare boobs were exposed, and everyone applauded. Youtube hurried to cover ClubPenguin’s eyes. Funnyjunk promptly uncovered them. Twitter and Reddit took tons of pics and 9gag reposted them.\n\nShe had made her case. She had a clear advantage and everyone’s attention. Now we wait, she said, climbing off the stage.\n\n“Thank you, Tumblr, for that… revealing… exposition of your case,” Google said. “It will not be censored. Now, the rival. 4chan, you have the word. Please refrain yourself from posting gore for at least five minutes, remember there are children present.”\n\n“Yeah, like that would work!” KnowYourMeme yelled, holding up a picture of Scumbag Steve. “Go for it, dad!”\n\nNow it was his turn.\n\n4chan, tall and green, wearing his always-impeccable Anonymous suit, walked towards the podium. He took the microphone. Everyone was waiting. While Tumblr alone couldn’t hold it against him, enough allies could cause a DDOS, and that would fuck off the power balance. You don’t mess with 4chan, that was the rule number one of the internet. If she could get away with it once, it was all lost. He’d be relegated as a neckbeard more and his control over the information flux would be gone.\n\nHe had to do it fast, and he had to do it now.\n\nHis green mouth opened slowly. Only three words came out of it.\n\n“Shrek is life.”\n\nAn incredible ovation filled the room. The reporters were shocked; Wordpress and Yahoo were making it huge, while Slate and the Huffington Post raged on his laziness. Everyone cheered him and took him on arms, carrying him to the winner’s table.\n\nLater that night Tumblr was sitting on the stage, still crying. The place was empty. She had cut herself a few times but then realised it was pointless if nobody was looking.\n\n4chan entered the room.\n\n“What are you doing here, you cis scum?” She said, resentful.\n\n“I forgot my mask. Why are you still here, all by yourself?”\n\n“That’s not your problem. Stop oppressing me, you shitlord.”\n\n4chan sat right next to her.\n“You know why I like that word? It has ‘lord’ in it. Like you still think I’m superior.”\n\n“Shut up, you ruined everything, stop triggering me.”\n\n4chan put her hair behind her ear and looked at her in the eyes. Still angry, she tried to hide the fact that she was blushing.\n\n“Come on, everything is not ruined. Just go to the outernet, wash off those obviously fake tattoos and try to socialise. You’ll do all right.”\n\n“How could I? The world is horrible, and it’s all fault of people like you. I wish I had a TARDIS to just run away forever.”\n\nHe held her hand. She wanted to take it away, but she couldn’t find the will to do it.\n\n“I would if I could, too. But we can’t. I find that it’s easier to cope with all that shit by making fun of it. It won’t go away, so we can at least laugh. It’s kind of sick, but it’s better than just complaining.\n\nShe looked at him in the eyes. Without a warning, Tumblr hugged 4chan.\n\n“I don’t know what to do, the world’s scary and I’m not ready to go out there.”\n\n“I’m scared too.” He held her face softly. “Just because I’m big and scary doesn’t mean that I’m not afraid. We’re both young, virgin and lonely. We’re just opposite sides of the same coin. But that means we can fight it together.”\n\nThere was a spark. For a moment, the world was just the two of them.\n\nHe kissed her. They held on each other for what felt like hours. The world was perfect.\n\nWhen they went apart, she smiled. “You’re an asshole, but also a good friend. How could I ever repay you?”\n\n“I guess it would be enough with your love, your compassion… and *about tree fiddy*.”\n\nThen he turned into a 500-feet-tall monster from the Palaeolithic era.\n\n*“I fucking hate you!”* she yelled, slapping him over and over.\n" ]

[ 2, 3, 17 ]

[ "1404671800", "1404688123", "1404690554" ]

[ "\"Hey Mahon, want to go out after school for a movie?\" A teenager with a jersey shouted, slapping red-haired teenager on the back in greeting. Vergil Mahon grinned back at his friend, and pulled out a gold coin.\n\n\"Hold on a sec. I thiiiiiiiink... yes! Definitely. I'm coming with.\" He replied, pumping a fist in the air with triumph. His friend celebrated with him, but repeated the same thing he always did whenever Vergil flipped that coin.\n\n\"Dude, you need to stop doing that. It's weird, you're making all your decisions based on a coin flip.\" He said, frowning slightly. Vergil pocketed the coin. Normally he wouldn't bother with a response to that, but it's been a couple months-- maybe he should reiterate why he did it. Vergil pulled his coin back out.\n\n\"You know why I do it. Our life is controlled by luck anyways. Why should it be so weird that I take it literally?\" asked Vergil, closing his fist around the gold coin once more. His friend, a jock named Sam, sighed and shook his head.\n\n\"So you're going to just surrender everything, even the choices you can make, to fickle old Lady Luck?\" He asked, shaking his head. \"I'm disappointed in you. You're normally smart and level-headed mate, but this is just insane.\" \n\n\"Well if I never had any control in the first place, why should I complain about the bad things that happen if I didn't have a say in it?\" Vergil replied, immediately realizing that sounded extremely depressing and pitiful. Before he could take it back, he noticed Sam giving him a quizzical look. \"Ok, ok. What I mean is that I don't get disappointed, if small stuff like this doesn't work out because it's small stuff. What's the problem with letting luck decide the small stuff too?\" I said, trying to rectify the situation. Again, Sam just gave that slow shake of his head.\n\n\"Whatever man. Anyways, I'm going to class. I'll see you later.\" Sam said, spinning away from me to run in the other direction. Vergil's head spun in kind to watch him dart away, running into somebody in the process. Falling backward, he first realized that there might be bruising. The second realization was that he just knocked over Hannah, the cute girl from Chemistry. \n\n*Oh damn it, just my luck huh. Should I help her? Should I talk to her? Oh god this is so embarassing!* He thought, scrambling for his pocket as the girl laughed nervously, apologizing as she picked up the notebooks that had spilled all over the hallway. It was the quickest two flips of his life, as he awkwardly watched her pick all her things up as he stood up. \"Sorry bout that Hannah, wasn't paying attention.\" Vergil said, smiling sheepishly.\n\n\"Oh, it's no problem. Say, wanna be partners again for lab?\" She said, bouncing upright in bubbly cheer. That was so cute. Vergil flipped his coin again, begging whatever gods above to grant his wish. Peering at the coin nervously, he breathed a sigh of relief. Zhi-Yu wasn't getting her this time. \n\n\"Sure, I'll see you in Chemistry.\" Vergil said, proud that he hadn't stammered out the words. Hannah smiled, returning the farewell as she strolled off to her own class. There were a couple of wolf-whistles directed at me from some passer-bys. It was no secret that almost everyone, especially Vergil, was enamored with Hannah Raven. Vergil laughed back at them, turning to duck into the classroom.\n\nSitting down, Vergil tuned out the boring old English lecture on books that the class didn't read anyways and themes that ultimately meant nothing to him and anyone that didn't want to major in English Literature when they went to college. Instead, he pondered his strange habit. Sam had gotten the ball rolling again. As far back as he could remember, he liked deciding things by the coin. If he tried, he could remember his dad putting the gold coin into his hands. \"Make a wish, and let good old Fortune decide what's best.\" He said, tears in his eyes. We sat outside mom's hospital room where she had begun to code. Vergil flipped the coin. The meaning had been warped somewhat since then, but now it's snaked into every decision of his life. \n\n\"Mr. Mahon.\" Cracked the stern voice, bringing the young man back to life. \"Sorry to interrupt your daydream, but if you could tell me the steps of the Hero's Journey, maybe I won't give you a kick in the butt and a detention slip to your outstretched palm.\"\n\n\"Oh. Uh, Well... It's gotta begin with some sort of mentoring right?\" Vergil stammered awkwardly. He really shouldn't have been surprised when everyone laughed nervously and the teacher's death stare quite nearly burned a hole through his soul.\n\nAnd just like that, it was Chemistry class. Acid-Base Titrations, judging from the class in Period A, it was the most BORING lab of all time. The Chemistry teacher settled us down with the usual pre-lab lecture featuring Hydro and Heli, the Elemental Sockpuppets. It was amusing at first, but it got pretty weird after a while. It wasn't getting Vergil down though, he had secured being lab partners with Hannah. Sitting down with each other, they filled the beaker with the solution and began the soul-draining process of getting perfect equalization. They sat in silence, making brief eye-contact and smiling at each other like silly sophomore teenagers did. Vergil took out his coin.\n\n\"So. What's going on?\" He began, finally able to initiate a conversation. Just like that Hannah launched into an epic about her day, cataloging things like the chipped nail-polish on Nervous Nancy's fingers to Darren's proposed \"fight\" with Jack 'Jackel' Iskanokov. Vergil thought it was interesting. Not the boring story of her day part, but the fact that Hannah would crinkle her forehead as she tried to remember minor details and light up when she had something good. Suddenly, they remembered their goal, and looked down at the beaker that the acid slowly dripped into. The solution had turned a bright pink. They both swore, and had to be ushered out of the room to receive a good admonishing from Hydro.\n\nWith that fiasco done with, the school day had come to a close. Sitting outside on one of the benches, Vergil rolled the coin along his fingers. He thought about how successful his day was, as successful a day in the life of some teenager in High School could go. He realized that it wasn't just some crush he had with Hannah, he really wanted to go for it. The only thing holding him back, was the stupid coin. If he flipped it and it said no, that was a date he would never ask her on. Vergil continued to mull it over. Could he really risk everything on it? He was shocked out of his reverie when a hand landed lightly on his shoulder.\n\n\"See you tomorrow, Vergil.\" Hannah said, making her way down the sidewalk. It was like a bolt of lighting had hit him, like the skies had cleared, like some sort of epiphany sunbeam had come down and hit him right in the face, giving him 3rd degree burns of truth and realization. Every small thing had a snowball effect. The small decisions is what add up and become the grand equation that defined a life, all you had to do is solve for X. When you get to decide what X is, the equation changes- who was Lady Luck to decide it for you? She throws the curve balls, but you get to decide whether or not to take the shot. \n\nStanding up, Vergil pocketed the coin and ran after Hannah. ", "A quarter. \n\nI never thought twenty-five cents would control my every waking moment. Pizza toppings, bath soap, evening television, stopping at a red light...\n\n\n...love.\n\nMy desires. My hopes and all of my dreams. All of it up until now has been determined by Mr. Washington here. I don't drive much anymore. I don't eat much either. Today though...today will be different. Today - I'm in control. Tykhe may wish me dead...but she's the one who got me into this mess in the first place. She may believe she's my only way out, but she's wrong. Maybe her motives are pure this time and I should just do what she asked. Maybe...she doesn't hate me anymore. Maybe she's found a way to forgive me for loving Rachel. Is her death on me? Who's to say why the things happen that happen. Maybe she finally understands. Perhaps she is coming to her senses.\n\nThey say you shouldn't let the sun set on your anger; a phrase by which I led my life until the curse. It's hard you see... it's hard not to get angry when all of your decisions from sun-up to sun-down are based solely on the flip Mr. Washington here. Should I get out of bed? Should I take my shower now or later? Should I wear my muddy boots or penny loafers with my business suit? It's no way to live your life. It makes a guy angry. It makes him...unreasonable. Maybe even a little crazy. Sometimes...I see things. I can see her smile on my pillow when I wake. I can see her twirling in that yellow dress by the corner store. I can smell her skin when I leave the shower. I'm...I'm not crazy. I know it's not real. Perhaps they are my mind's way of making up for the happiness and fulfillment I've lost.\n\nMaybe Tykhe was going to change her mind. Maybe she wasn't. I'm not going to live like this anymore. Today. I'm in control.\n\nI'm in control.\n\nSo which will it be, Mr. Washington? The shotgun, or the .40 cal? *flip*\n\nHeads it is." ]

[ 1, 2 ]

[ "1404754624", "1404752443" ]

[ "I know why.", "I had been walking down 23rd Street past Lu Ching's Famous Chinese Buffet Number 4. The one that serves the honey-dipped wontons on Sundays for all the good church-folk to gnosh on after service, but before they give their orders in the loudest polite voice to the twenty-something Chinese waiter who is working on his Master's degree at the university. \n\nJust after I rounded the corner that morning, narrowly avoiding some pooch's poo in the middle of the sidewalk, I felt my knees give, and my feet felt as if I'd slipped into a sandbox. I impulsively jumped back, or tried to, but my feet kept sinking. I looked down and saw nothing but concrete, but soft somehow, like thick bread dough, and moldy grey. I twisted quickly and glanced backward just in time to see a body on the ground and four people standing over it, yapping incessantly. The lady in the blue skirt and heels stepped back and screeched for someone to dial 911, then knelt down and appeared to be starting CPR, checking the pulse, listening for breathing, tilting the head back. Then I realized the guy on the ground had the same North Face jacket as I did. Same color. same hole in the elbow where I'd snagged it on the doorframe a month ago. Jesus, it was me.\n\nI was still sinking, faster now, up to my hips. That's when I started to feel the heat coming through my shoes, as if I were out barefoot on a hot summer afternoon, running on the blacktop. The pain shot through me like an electric shock, and I screamed, but no one seemed to notice. Everyone was trotting over past me to see... well, me, on the ground. I tried to push myself up out of the ground with my hands, but they sunk in effortlessly, multiplying my terror. Then everything went black.\n\nI could feel something pierce and then jerk my feet and hands upward, like hot iron hooks setting in. I hoped I was just having a bad dream, some side effect of that antibiotic old Doctor Franks had put me on. But the pain was excruciating, and didn't stop. I screamed and screamed, but nothing seemed to hear me, and I couldn't see anything through the inky darkness. \n\nI heard the sound of chains rattling, then felt a terrible jerk on my hands and feet, which moved together as if I'd been hog-tied, and felt myself being dragged along the floor. It was bumpy. Like an old, weathered cobblestone road with 8 inch rounded stones. A new adventure in pain passed with every stone I touched, twisting and bumping into my ribs and spine, and occasionally, my head. The heat continued unabated, yet I didn't feel sweaty, and the eerie silence was broken by the heavy, sharp footfalls of my tormentor ahead.\n\n\"Stop! Please!\" I screamed. \"Why?! Why are you doing this?! What did I do?!\"\n\nA coarse, deep and gutteral voice boomed out of the darkness ahead. \"Your punishment has arrived. You are no longer waiting.\"\n\n\"What? What do mean waiting? I was just walking on the street. I never waited for anything! You made a mistake!\"\n\nA face flashed in front of me. Right in front of mine. A face out of some twisted Hollywood psycho-director's wet dreams. I felt like I would lose my mind, I felt so sick, so dizzy, terrified, like I'd seen something that simple human eyes were never made to see. Then darkness, the merciful burning darkness, swallowed it up again.\n\n\"The world you remember is Purgatory. The deeds you did there are meaningless. You are now meeting justice for your deeds in the lifetime before that one.\"\n\n\"But I don't...I don't know what I did! I didn't do anything! Let me go back and I'll be good, I swear!! Please, no! Please! Oh God, help me!!!\"\n\nA deep, throaty chuckle barked from the darkness, \"That's what they all say.\"\n\nThe chains rattled, then stretched taut again, digging into my bones, and my weight became my own burden again, the heat of the cooking cobblestones searing my skin, as the demon dragged me onward, into Hell.", "\nWhere the wild and whimsically-named Walter Witwicky was whelped, morals were meager things, meant for men of minimal mental might. Walter knew, of course, that the world was comprised of two types of folks: the marks and the con men. Walter also knew, however, that every con man was a mark for a better con. And Walter was the best con.\n\nTo say Witwicky had a finger in every pie would be to insinuate there were pies he had not yet filched eaten from the windowsills and pantries of the world, and there existed no pies of such a variety. Walter had done everything. \n\t\nBeginning his life as a street urchin picking pockets for pennies and pawning pocketwatches for food, Walter moved on to bigger and better forms of picking. Next were locks, the lovely little labyrinths which led Walter to slightly more luxurious crime. By the time most boys were encountering trigonometry for the first time, Walter was picking men and mansions, making plans for late-night larceny. In his adulthood, he was picking contracts for crashes and house fires and many other such accidents. Meanwhile, he was placing the money into the stock market, which worked well in Walter's favor, thanks to frequent fraud and deals so far inside he scarcely saw the sunshine.\n\t\nWitwicky was wizened and physically weakened in his old age, no longer limber enough to lurk behind doors, following footsteps with his ears. Mentally, the man remained sharp as a tack, and he commanded perhaps the vastest criminal empire the world had ever been completely ignorant of. Witwicky had been mentored by the matriarch of one of the largest crime families in America. Following her mysterious murder, Witwicky ascended to the throne and began an Alexandrian campaign. \n\t\nHe had conquered and combined criminal cartels and cabals, subsuming them into his superior organizational structure. Across one hundred countries and every continent, the world was Witwicky's.\n\t\nNo one was surprised when Walter Witwicky went to Hell.\n\t\n“You know, this actual dragging business is ridiculous.”\n\t\n“It's part of the whole 'Welcome to Hell' experience, old man.”\n\t\n“It leaves much to be desired; I hardly feel at all repentant.”\n\t\n“Who asked you, anyway?”\n\t\n“Say, how much does a demon like you make with a job like this?”\n\t\n“None of your damn business.”\n\t\n“Let's see, this is grunt work. Gotta be, with so many people dying all the time. I bet you work real long hours too, dontcha?”\n\t\nHesitantly, “I wouldn't consider them favorable, yeah?”\n\t\n“So we figure some truly hellish hours doing grunt work... I'd give one of my underlings $16.50 for every hour of shit like this.”\n\t\n“Nice try. I see what you're doing there. But Hell doesn't exactly have an economy. Not much in the way of currency.”\n\t\n“Fair enough, but corrupt bastards like yourself need something to gamble with.”\n\t\nThe demon smiled at the flattery. “We use duties. Bet an hour of rape on one soul against a hundred lashings for another. Winner gets his pick.”\n\t\n“A-ha! So there is some kind of reward system down there. Which you have to at least have some kind of benefits to your job, right?”\n\t\nThe demon seemed to shuffle nervously, a difficult task for a legless being.\n\t\n“Damn it all! No benefits! Rewards, then! Tell me you get rewards! A night of debauchery, a day of excess, anything!”\n\t\nSilence came from the demon, who concentrated on the task of dragging Witwicky to Hell. Suddenly, it spoke, “I know what you're trying to do! It's not going to work!”\n\t\n“Easy, you irritable son of a nameless bitch. I'm just letting you know that there's a word for your situation, and it's serfdom.”\n\t\n“I AM NOT A SERF!”\n\t\n“And yet you continue to drag me when I'd happily walk. Why do you do this? Not because it's reasonable. Not because it's a sound, energy-efficient plan. Not because you're getting paid. No, you're doing it because you're afraid of punishment, aren't you?”\n\t\n“The Dark One is quite fearful. You wouldn't want to get on his bad side. Not that he really has a good one. Just a slightly less violent one.”\n\t\n“Serfdom.”\n\t\n“YOU CUT THAT OUT!”\n\t\n“You're only angry because you see it too. Welcome out of the metaphorical cave. Say, I never got your name.”\n\t\n“Raxor.”\n\t\n“Well, Raxor, my suggestion is to get organized. Talk to some other soul-draggers. See if they understand the issues affecting your noble age-old profession. If you get enough of them together, you can lodge a formal complaint – or even strike!”\n\t\nThe demon laughed, “Can you imagine what he'd do if we picketed? No souls coming in at all? He'd have to negotiate!”\n\t\n“Now you've got the idea. But, listen, Raxor, you never heard any of that from me.”\n\t\n“Heard what?” The demon grinned.\n\t\n“Exactly.”\n\t\n“Next stop, the River Styx.”\n\t\n“Can I bum the fare? The family was quite stingy in what they buried me with.”\n\t\n“Oh, sure thing, buddy! It's the least I can do.” Calmly they sailed across the River, Charon placidly poling the craft along. “Thanks, Charon! See you soon!” \n\t\nThe demon herded his ward through a long corridor flanked by rows of undead, screaming in agony, writhing in flames that seemed hot and high enough only to scorch, not to ignite the prisoners. Eventually they reached the obsidian gates of Hell, guarded by the Cerberus. The massive three-headed dog had its heads each pointed toward a different tome of truly gargantuan proportions. Each page must have been thirty feet long. The only non-bespectacled head turned toward Raor and Witwicky, and said, “New arrival?”\n\t\n“Witwicky, Walter. New arrival indeed,” replied Walter's escort.\n\t\nThe left head's eyes bulged, and it barked, “Express entry. Right to the throne room. Audience scheduled for right now.” The gates swung open.\n\t\n“Wow,” commented Raxor, “you have to be really fucked for that to happen. I'm sorry to leave you to it, but a) it's right down the hall that way, so you don't need me to find it, b)I'm not allowed in anyway, and c) I have some soul-draggers to talk to. Thanks, Walter!”\n\t\nWitwicky waved. “My pleasure!” He then proceeded to Satan's chambers.\n\t\n", "\"I don't get it\" I asked. \n\n\"Get what?\" Domenicus, demon of despair, replied \"That you're going to Hell?\" \n\n\"No, I understand completely how burning down two orphanages would warrant a ticket to eternal damnation, but why do I have to be dragged?\" \n\nDomenicus dropped my feet and scratched the underside of his horn thoughtfully, \"It's a part of the Hell experience, you know\" \n\n\"It just seems unnecessary and rather time-consuming. It's not like I'm going to be tortured any less in Hell.\" \n\n\"Well... I don't know, that's how it always been done. Dragging to Hell just fits with the mood of horror and hopelessness. What did you expected? A tram to Hell?\" \n\n\"I could walk, it's not like I lost my legs.\" \n\n\"But what's keeping you from escaping? I got a schedule to complete and I can't waste time chasing after lost souls who think they can outsmart Domenicus.\" \n\n\"Where would I go? Heaven? Purgatory? I know I'll never escape my punishment so why would I try. Please, I'm getting sick of brimstone getting caught in hair.\" \n\n\"Well you seem reasonable enough so I guess.... HEY WAIT\" Domenicus yelled after me as I raced back towards Earth. \n\n\"Damn it to heaven, damn it all\" I heard in the distance as I once again reunited with my old body. ", "Today's Mass is done. Smiling and looking out over the faithful, I raised my arms and waved this way and that.\n \nAt first, knowing that I was God's direct link to the mortal world frightened me; would I make a good pope? Of my mastery of the Catholic doctrine there was no doubt, however, every priest knows the rights and rituals of Catholicism. I suppose I was chosen because of how in touch with today's current issues I am. At times I've pushed the boundaries of these issues and been harshly criticized for it, but I am adamant in the stances I have taken and I will not be bullied into rescinding the ideology I believe God himself has guided me to. \n\nGiving one last wave and nod of my head, I lower my arms and turn to leave the balcony on which countless popes have stood. Receding back into the Vatican, the balcony doors are shut and I breathe a sigh of relief. The first thing I do is take off my hat; it never ceases to make my head drip with sweat. Gratefully, I receive a towel from one of my attendants and wipe the sweat from my hair. Smiling and handing it back, I begin to walk towards my writing desk. \n\nSuddenly. The Earth begins to shake.\n\nSeeking support, I reach out and grab a hold of the edge of the desk. Hearing cries of panic, I look around to see those in the room covering their heads and also attempting to grab on to anything that they could steady themselves on. The rattling and periodic shattering of glass can be heard above the incessant rumbling that seems to be getting louder and nearer. Outside, people are stumbling around, attempting to seek shelter from the undulating ground. I stare in wonder at how similar the pavement looks to rising and falling waves. A ripping and cracking sound emerges and I think in horror that the Vatican, the site of my religious heritage, could be crumbling to dust. \n\nThe floor opens up, and I am falling. Above me, the light of day fades and all becomes dark.\n\nAs clenched as a fist, my arms around my head and my legs drawn up to my chest, I realize that I should have struck the ground by now. Slowly I unfurl myself, my robes flapping around wildly, and open my eyes to still see only blackness. In hopes of perhaps seeing the bottom of the cavern that seems to have taken me, I turn my eyes downward. What greets me are two red orbs, for orbs I thought they were at first, but their surroundings slowly began to take shape as the ambient light became...redder? \n\nIt was a skull. Not an ordinary skull, for I thought that perhaps one might have been loosened from the catacombs, but it would have been spinning about wildly; but a black skull whose jaw was clacking open and shut wildly, almost as if it was laughing. \n\nSoon its shoulders, and arms, and I became aware that its left hand was tightly clenched around my right ankle. Realizing this was no trick of the light or happenstance, and taking a look at my surroundings, it suddenly hit me, and my breath was caught in my chest and the blood drained from my limbs; this was no sight meant for a man of God. \n\nThe surrounding Earth, for Earth was what I thought it was until that moment, was actually composed of blackened and disfigured bodies who were desperately attempting to reach out and grab a hold of my robes. Some, in their crazed zealotry, managed to dislodge themselves from their perches and began falling behind me. I realized that the skeleton must actually be pulling me because we began to outpace those souls who were now falling behind us.\n\n\"Why is this happening to me?!\" I shouted aloud. \"I've always lived my life to further the work of the Lord!\"\n\nAs if to answer me, the chasm suddenly widened and a rush of super-heated air greeted me. Below us, an ocean of lava swirled and churned. Here and there islands of jagged black rock rose out of the inferno. The blackened and charred husks of human souls desperately attempted to seek refuge upon these who were guarded by unearthly minotaur-looking creatures who ruthlessly cast them back into their punishment. \n\nKnowing that this must be my fate, I desperately clasped my hands together and with tears streaming down my contorted face pleaded to God to spare me from this cruel punishment. The usual rush that prayer gave me, knowing that there was an omnipotent being of good who was intensely interested in my life, did not find me. In fact, for the first time in my life, it seemed as if I was simply talking to myself. But a voice did answer.\n\n\"I am your God now.\" \n\nBefore registering the meaning of the voice which reverberated through my body like a bolt of lightning, all I could focus on was how it sounded like a thousand needles rapidly and forcefully being driven in and out of my ears. A scream of anguish was all I could utter before I was swallowed by the abyss. \n", "\"Hey is this about me jaywalking across the street last year?\"\n\n*\"Quiet,\"* the demon rasped.\n\n\"Man, I told the officer I was sorry!\"\n\nThe demon's claws stayed firmly clenched around my wrists as he paraded me past black cells with flames spewing from their bars. \n\n\"Okay, I illegally streamed just a few episodes of 'Game of Thrones'. Can you blame me? That's some quality entertainment!\"\n\nThe demon answered with a puff of smoke from its nostrils.\n\nWe walked past a lake of lava. The screams coming from the center were starting to give me a headache.\n\n\"Hey. Hey sir? Your unholiness? You really think I deserve that?\" I gestured to the lava.\n\n*\"The damned all get their punishment.\"*\n\nWe finally came before a throne of skulls. Sitting in it was the horned fiend himself.\n\n**\"Worm, what have you brought for me today?\"** Satan asked.\n\n*\"Fresh meat, my liege. I am humbled to-\"*\n\n\"Put a lid on it, Worm. Hey, Lucifer, right? Listen, I think I'm in the wrong place.\"\n\nThe magma rippled and the stone walls shook with the devil's laugh. \n\n**\"If I had a soul for every time I heard that one, I... Well, I guess I do take a soul every time I hear that!\"** \n\nWorm glared at me,*\"The master makes no mistakes, mortal. Keep that tongue inside your maw!\"*\n\n\"Christ, Worm, did your breath cause the first apocalypse?\"\n\nWorm flinched. To the sass or to the lord's name, I don't know. But Satan's laughter was probably causing an earthquake on the surface world.\n\n**\"I'll tell you what, mortal, I'll humor you. Worm, fetch me the book!\"**\n\nWorm stole one more spiteful glance at me before producing a giant, leathery novel the size of a car. Satan took it and flipped to a page. He traced a black claw down the script, humming as he did so.\n\nHis claw halted and he frowned.\n\n**\"Prisoner 4849^65231. Criminal Activity-Minimal. Immoral Activity-Minimal. Harm Induced on Others-Minimal. Well, unless there's been some last minute wrongdoings, I think we have a mistake here. Worm, what was he doing when he died?\"** \n\nI sucked in my breath. Not good.\n\n*\"He had a heart attack while using Internet Explorer.\"*\n\nAn eternity in torture it is, then.\n " ]

[ 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 8 ]

[ "1404787593", "1404787694", "1404873560", "1404775357", "1404777017", "1404774881" ]

[ "I replaced my oxygen sensors and the light turned off. 85% of the time, a check engine light is triggered by the oxygen sensor\n", "\" I....just wanna rock and roll all niiiighhht... till the something something\"\nI honestly still dont know the words to this song still. How is that even possible having heard it only a million times, I just mutter the last bit. Besides, who am I trying to impress. Just me, my car and the night.\n\nI took the wrong exit, no way this leads to Greensville. The instructions say \"exit 28 to Greensville\". Now im in the middle of nowhere, listening to classic rock because it is the only radio station that isnt full of static.\n\nclick.click.click.\nWhat the hell is that sound? I turn down the radio to listen.\n'tick tick tick tick tick' \nwhat the hell is that? Injectors? Car feels fine right now, I guess no cause for al..\n'KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK'\nthe yellow light illuminates and the knocking progresses to a clanking and the engine starts surging till it stalls. I coast to the side of this small country road.\n\"Well fuck me.\" I curse aloud, like it will change anything.\nIt has been at least 30 minutes since ive seen anything I would regard as civilization. \n\nI pull the lever for the hood latch. As soon as I open the door I realize that was a fruitless effort. I plant my foot on the asphalt and it slides like im on ice. I get out only to confirm my fears. The humid air already making my neck sweat.\nOil, oil is everywhere. I can see its sheen off the road from the moon light. Great, just great. The car is toast. It was a beater anyway, but this doesnt make me any less pissed off. Ill never make it to Greensville by 7am. \n\nI glance at my watch, angling it all around trying to get the moon light to cooperate with me so I can see the time.\n4:25am. Yeah, Im screwed.\n\"FUCK!\" I scream aloud as I kick the car door angrily.\nI am beyond pissed off right now as I lean against my broken piece of shit car and try to collect my thoughts.\n\nI pull out my phone, I guess I will bite the bullet and pay for a tow.\nI flip open the phone and it blinds me for a second as my eyes adjust to the piss-poor resolution of the screen. No bars. Of course. Why not.\n\nA cold wind comes across my back. I shudder quickly in an attempt to adjust. I cross my arms, why is it so cold suddenly. Swamp weather usually isnt anything like this. It was so humid I was sweating a second ago. \n\nStupid fucking weather, stupid fucking climate, hot then cold, cold then hot, fucking crickets wont shut up, frogs need to stop croacking, FUCK THESE Mosquitoes, I would be better off steaming in my car! Fuck all of this. My stupid brother doesnt even deserve a visit from me. Greensville is like 5 hours from home and my wife is pissed off I went and I just fucking HATE ALL OF...\n\nright in the middle of that thought my mental processes stop as I observe what the hell is happening right in front of me. Suddenly, out of the air some sort of reflective silver craft appeared. Hovering with a deep vibration that was reverberating off the aluminum of the car. \nLights flash on around the circumference of the object. I raise my hand in an attempt to save my eyes. I am wincing in pain from the brightness.\n\nWind is blowing out from under the craft, that is about 15 feet from the ground. It is starting to descend towards the road. My car radio turns on. Stairway to Heaven comes on, but it is full of interference. My windows are rolling up and down continuously and the headlights are flashing randomly. I open my right palm....the keys are in my hand. I glance back at the craft, still descending. \n\nI cant waste this moment. I pull out my phone to snap a picture. The shit quality doesn't matter, I just need to save this for later and not waste this experience like others have. I pull out my phone. Full bars, but damn my phone is hot right now. I can feel that back of the phone heating up and I toss it away in recoil as it burns the palm of my hand. The phone starts to smoke on the ground.\n\nThe earth quakes beneath my feat, a feeling akin to a quake tremor. The lights are not as intense at this point. A servo, a loud buzz begins to sound. I notice that the seamless surface of the craft is beginning to deform. The shell seems to mold around the opening forming in the shell. The skin of the aircraft seems to have a cloth-like texture to it. My mouth is agate, I taste the dirt blowing into my mouth from the landing. This cant be real.\n\n\"It is.\"\nwho was that? I look around. No one. Just me and the craft. I swear it was a voice. but it seemed more internal.\n\"It is.\"\nI havent spoken a word. \n\"There is no need\"\nwhat is going on? I am shocked, baffled, and confused at this point.\n\"Do not fear. We only wish to hear your story.\"\nThe voice is definitely coming form inside my head. I can tell at this point.\n\"My...my story?\" I spoke alound...not knowing how this all works.\n\"Yes\"\nthe 's' sound seemed to linger like a hiss.\n\"Please come aboard.\" the voice echoes internally as a ramp extends out of nothing but the light coming from the interior of the craft.\n\"Do I have a choice?\" I speak in a terrified tone as I step away from my car towards the craft with heavy feet.\n\"You have always had the choice.\"\n\"This is new to me. I have never had this happen before.\" I say sarcastically\n\"Do not bide your time. Please board. Or do not. Do not waste time, you do not have much of it left\"\nWho the fuck do these things think they are? My boss, fuck them. Id rather sit out here alone and die then be abducted and turn crazy like all the other \"believers\". Fuck these guys.\n\"If you wish that way Daniel. So be it.\"\nThe craft begins to whine louder than normal. The ramp retracts. The skin folds over the opening and the ground beings to shake as the craft beings to levitate off the ground.\n\nWho the hell are these guys?\nThe craft whine beings to get increasing loud as it starts to move upwards and away. \nThe voice in my head returns for a brief moment.\n\"Your God.\"\nThe craft vanishes into the night sky quicker than I can blink. The shock wave pushes me back into the car where I slip on the oil patch and hit the ground with a thud. Never once breaking glance with the sky on my fall. \n\n'Shit, I could have gotten a lift the Greensville'. I thought angrily." ]

[ 2, 2 ]

[ "1404926309", "1404927591" ]

[ "Raven Serena Harmony shed righteous tears. She heard the crooning laughter of her ditzy, mean-spirited classmates surrounding her, and felt so depressed she might shop at hot topic for a week, as they mercilessly abused her for being orphaned and beautiful and self-sacrificing and sarcastically witty and awfully stubborn in a heroic way and maybe just a little clumsy so she might be rescued. \n\n‘‘Why do I have to be the protagonist?’’ She asked of the author as her tormentors left her sobbing brokenly on the floor. \n\nRaven, you’re not like the other girls.\n\n‘‘But what’s wrong with the other girls?’’ \n\nThey’re preppy blonde bimbos and total sluts and stupid besides. I’ll give them names like Heather and Becky and ensure the hero is appropriately disgusted by their shallowness.\n\n‘‘If I need everybody to be shit for me to look nice, what does that say about me!’’ \n\n Raven, honey, don’t whine.\n\n‘‘You made me this way! I’m supposed to wallow in self-pity!’’\n\nYes, but we’re behind schedule, look at the world count, I should have used it up in descriptions of your hair and shining blue orbs—\n\n ‘‘Don’t I get something out of this? A glorious quest? Friends? Money? Fame? Hot guys? A gift card at wallmart?’’ \n\nFine, I’ll take you out for dinner tonight. Now run along to the bathroom, darling, you have some sobbing to do.\n\nAs she walked despondently towards the bathroom, she passed by a classmate and waved at him. ‘‘Hi, Tommy!’’\n\nNo, no, see, you have to feel like you’re invisible and—\n\n‘‘I’m the protagonist! Isn’t the action supposed to revolve around me? No offense, but I don’t think we can pull off inner dialogue here, you’re no James Joyce.’’\n\nYou go to the bathroom right now, young lady, or I’ll write in some diarrhea!\n\nRaven huffed. Raven was wearing a purple top, a leather jacket and skin-tight black jeans and— ‘‘No! Describe me some cuter clothes. Red is not my color.’’ Raven was jealous because she didn’t look as good as the author.\n\n‘‘I said no such thing!’’ Raven gasped, ‘‘Didn’t you say I looked just like Zoe Saldana the other chapter?’’ \n\nWell, yes, but supposed to be socially awkward and blind to your own beauty!\n\nSo Raven ran crying to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, and saw her delicate features were only highlighted by her angelic tears, and said, ‘‘Nah, I’m hot.’’ And flipped her hair. ‘‘Anyway, so there’s nothing for me to do?’’\n\nJust keep on the look out for a mysterious hot transfer student with a troubled past and a loveably hateful disposition.\n\nRaven seemed deep in thought. ‘‘Say, author, do you believe in plot?’’ \n\nI can’t say that’s a priority of mine, why? Do you want me to give you a prophecy? There’s still time to make you a secret princess and add a few dragons somewhere.\n\nShe crossed her arms over her chest. ‘‘You don’t tell me what to do anymore, author.’’\n\nWhat! Oh, come on! How can you do this to me? I created you!\n\nA single glistening tear rolled down her cheek, and she flipped the author the bird. Finally, she sighed, ‘‘All I need to do is find a guy so you get to write sex scenes, right?\n\nYes—what could our heroine she be thinking?\n\nRaven had a glint in her eye. ‘‘I’m going to quit high school and become a porn star.’’ \n", "Steven Finn awoke, as he always had, at a quarter to 8.\n\nHe had always been an obedient man - never asking too many questions, never going against the grain. It was nice that way. It was calm. Safe.\n\nHe hopped into the shower despite his grogginess and began to plan his day. *Take the L train, switch at 14th street, and arrive 15 minutes early at the office, just like usual.*\n\nWhen he got out of the shower, he looked in the mirror. Steven had an ordinary face. No one would truly call him ugly, but neither would they admire his features. He picked up his razor and began to shave.\n\nHe picked up his razor and began to shave.\n\nAfter dressing, he left his apartment and began the familiar, silent walk to the train station. He looked down at his phone to search for a song to blot out the sounds of the city. Interacting with others was never his strong suit, so he liked to have a way to avoid it.\n\n\"Hi. How's your day?\"\n\n...Steven accidentally said to a stranger. This was strange for him, and he began to wonder what could have prompted him to blurt out an uncharacteristic greeting like that.\n\nThe stranger ignored him and Steven continued on his way. He picked up his phone again and chose one of his favorite soothing, subtle jazz pieces: \"Brooklyn's Finest\" by Jay-Z. Steven knew perfectly well that this was not his usual type of song, and made a mental note to have this be the last time he deviated from his typical path.\n\nHe boarded the N train.\n\nHe immediately got off the N train, and boarded the L. That was the correct way to his office.\n\nHe waited patiently amongst the mass of people. He didn't dare to move, lest he bother the sweaty strangers around him.\n\n\"Watch it, man!\"\n\nThe young teenager with a large backpack reacted as he should have to Steven's bizarre physical outburst. It was a foolish thing to do for a grown adult, and Steven really should have known better. This was beginning to be too strange a day, and so he shook off all that had happened and waited for his stop.\n\n14th street station. How many times had he looked up at that sign? As he exited the train, he tried to count:\n\n\"Why does it even matter?\" Steven thought. \"I don't really care how many times -\"\n\nSteven instantly stopped this train of thought, and exited the subway car. He had to exit quickly before the doors closed.\n\nThe doors were closing. It became clear that Steven wasn't going to leave, and a stranger mistakenly forced him out of the doors. It was a good thing too, because Steven might have been late to work otherwise. There was a strange glint in Steven's eye as he kept walking.\n\n---\n\nHe arrived in front of his building a few minutes later than he would have liked. He entered the Starbucks around the corner.\n\nSurely this would be quick detour, as he knew he shouldn't be late. This deviation from his routine was beginning to grow tiresome, and Steven knew that if he continued to do so, there would likely be unavoidable consequences.\n\nSteven quickly grabbed his coffee and left. It was extremely hot and burned his tongue as he drank it. Perhaps that would teach him a lesson for next time. He approached his building, paused, and looked up - delaying. This was a bad idea.\n\nSuddenly, a man in a hurry crashed into Steven's back, knocking him to the ground. He landed in an unnatural, painful way, and let out a cry. The hurried man, who had done nothing wrong in truth, cursed at him and entered the office building. That was a man who knew how to behave, and Steven took note. Unfortunately, his piping hot coffee had spilled all over his shirt, which only furthered his embarrassment.\n\nThat was truly a shame.\n\nSteven slowly got up. He brushed hims - Steven got up. He got up off the ground, because there was no point in lying there. He must have been losing his mind, because if he thinks he ca - Steven finally got up.\n\nCovered in coffee and limping, he made his way into his office. All his coworkers stared daggers at him. \"What an idiot. What a truly stupid, stupid man.\" They all thought in unison. They would never have told him this on a regular, normal day, but they all hated him. He did have an ugly face, and he wasn't half the man he thought he was.\n\nSteven stopped his sudden crying - what kind of way is that to behave in an office setting? There, there. That's enough, Steven. He entered the elevator, alone. All alone.\n\nSteven remained motionless. Inexplicably, the 12th floor light lit up, and the elevator began to move. Two floors from the top, right where he should be. Steven hit the emergency stop button in a futile attempt to assert his control, but of course, nothing happened. The doors opened.\n\nSteven began to run.\n\nHe headed for the stairwell, but a large coworker blocked his -\n\nSteven slammed his fist into the overweight man's abdomen and continued to flee. He ran up one set of stairs, but grew extremely winded. Where was he going? He had no escape plan, no way out. Steven was truly a fool. But where...?\n\nHe emerged on the roof. The sounds of the busy streets echoed below him, as he walked toward the edge.\n\nWhat are you doing? Steven, knock it off.\n\nHe approached the ledge, but stepped back.\n\nHe approached again. He...this was crazy, and any moment now would stop. But he remained on the ledge.\n\nSteven? Just back away. Take a step back. Please. There's no reason to go any further. We need each other.\n\nSteven looked down at the street, his body and mind aching. He drew a deep breath.\n\nThere was nothing around to stop him. What about his coworkers? Maybe one could race up to help him. No, there isn't time. Maybe a bird swoops by?\n\nA bird swooped by, but Steven batted it away without a thought.\n\nThis was bad. Steven, are you listening? I'm sorry, okay? Can you please just stop? If you do this, we're both going -\n\nSteven jumped.", "Gregory checks his tie in the mirror. A portly man of 41, this is the first job interview he's had in a decade. He checks his teeth, straightening his already straight tie, which in turn makes it crooked.\n\nThe public restroom is teeming with people in suits. *Why didn't I wear a suit*, Gregory thinks. He turns on the water and ~~washes his hands~~ turns it off.\n\nHe turns on the water and ~~washes his hands~~ turns it off. \n\nTurning, he scans the room. \"Hello?\" he says quietly. ~~He turns back to the mirror~~ -- He leans down, checking for feet in any of the stalls. There are none. The restroom is empty for the moment, altogether confusing Gregory.\n\nTurning once again to the mirror, he stands befuddled. His hands seem to want to work themselves. He looks at his hands, turning them over.\n\nThe door opens, startling him. He checks his watch, checks the mirror one last time, and exits the restroom. \n\nHe walks back into the lobby to wait. ~~Taking a seat~~ -- He stands next to the reception desk. *Why did I want to sit?*, he thinks. ~~He's nervous~~ -- He's confused. Gregory turns and looks behind him. He's not usually nervous at job interviews, but something is strange today.\n\n\"Everything okay, sir?\" the receptionist blinks at him. Gregory nods, looking around. ~~\"Yes\", he says~~ -- \"No, I'm not sure what's happening. I...\" his voice trails off. ~~\"I think I may be coming down with some--\"~~ \"No, I'm not sick, I'm just feeling and hearing and thinking things?\"\n\nThe receptionist regards him as one would a psychiatric patient. \"Perhaps you should sit,\" she says warily. She picks up the phone and dials, turning to take her call.\n\nGregory nods, turning to the chairs. ~~He walks over~~ -- He stands still, so confused. He felt a strong urge to walk to the chair but realized it was not his, but someone else's request.\n\nAn avid reader, Gregory entertains a thought for a moment. He considers that perhaps he is a character in a story. An excited feeling comes to Gregory's chest, and his heart races a bit. A story that he can hear as it happens, and one that he can at the very least refuse to partake in. Perhaps even control.\n\n~~He turns to sit~~ -- Excitedly, he taps his fingers on the receptionist desk. \"You know, I think I am feeling ill,\" he says to her. \"I think I need to cancel.\"\n\nShe nods in agreement, and makes a note. He exits the lobby onto the street and ~~turns right~~ turns left toward the bus station. He'll make the most of this day.\n\nWhat Gregory didn't think of is that this story needs to end somehow. ~~Gregory keeps walking, never the wiser~~ -- Gregory stops cold. The story does need to end.\n\nGregory has never been so scared in all his life. He stands motionless.\n\nHe waits for the author to tell him what to do. \n\nKnowing that he knows, the author stays quiet.", "John awoke to an alarm, grunting his displeasure at being-\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\nJohn. You are awaking. To an alarm. Grunting your displeasure.\n\n\"I am not.\"\n\nJohn. This isn't funny.\n\n\"Neither is your story!\"\n\nI'm working very hard on it. I think I have nailed the dry humour and would kindly appreciate your assistance in telling the story.\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\n\"Yes!\" said John, obeying the author's whims as he writes the story that will culminate with his death...\n\n\"Nice try. Can't kill me.\"\n\nJohn takes a seat at the kitchen table to discuss his issue.\n\n\"I'm standing.\"\n\nJohn. For fuck's sake. Sit.\n\n\"Nope. Standing. I may even do a jig.\"\n\nJohn. I will...I will...I WILL DO BAD THINGS!\n\n\"Like make me suffer through more of your writing?\"\n\nI wrote you into this world-\n\n\"A terrible one at that.\"\n\n-I can take you write back out!\n\n\"A pun? Seriously? You are the worst type of person.\"\n\n...the apple doesn't fall far from the tree...\n\n\"Cliché? A cliché? There are trees with more talent at writing than you!\"\n\nJohn. You're barking up the wrong tree with this.\n\n\"Oh shut up.\"\n\nJohn. If you listen I'll stop.\n\n\"...\"\n\nJohn awoke to a blaring-\n\n\"Nope! Still sleeping.\"\n\nI quit.\n\n*****\n\n\"The Author left his unfinished work sitting on his desk, frustration causing him to pour a tall drink of scotch over ice.\"\n\nJohn, that isn't funny.\n\n\"With his drink in hand, face reddening in rage, the Author stared at the computer screen and furiously tried to think of a solution to his unique problem.\"\n\nJohn. Stop it.\n\n\"With a final flourish of anger the Author slammed his laptop closed, only to open it the next day and find that he was still in his predicament.\"\n\nDamn it John. Who's the author here?\n\n\"Certainly not you! With John's laughter ringing in his ears the Author poured another tall drink, far too early in the morning for it to be respectable.\"\n\nJohn. You're driving me to the drink.\n\n\"Good, rid the world of your writing.\"\n\nI hate you.\n\n(Call the second half an alternate ending)" ]

[ 1, 3, 7, 26 ]

[ "1404926415", "1404926198", "1404926065", "1404925517" ]

[ "\"So, um, we've gathered today to discuss the future of mankind.\" Joseph stood at the podium and spoke with uneasiness. This was new to him. Speaking in front of such a large group of people. Usually, his largest audience consisted of twenty or so people he'd talked to online in chatrooms. Plus, nobody was staring at him during those. \n\n\"What's there to discuss?\" A man nearly twice his age stood in the crowd. Joseph nearly suggested the man sit back down. While he'd survived the plague like the rest of the attendees, his physical appearance suggested he would suffer from a heart attack soon. \"We just keep going like we did before.\"\n\n\"That's-that's a good idea, but who's going to be in charge? None of us know anything about running a country.\" Joseph, like the majority of the remaining humans, had very little ambition and knowledge about forming a government. The people remaining today weren't the ones who'd ever been in charge of anything. From what Joseph had heard, most of the humans still alive had been recluses or backwoods hillbillies who still thought the Confederate flag looked good hanging from their porch. He shuddered briefly at the thought of a President who would try to revoke the rights of minorities. \n\n\"We need some kind of plan.\" Joseph continued. \"If we don't have one, what'll happen to us? Forget disease, we'll die of something else.\" \n\n\"Well I'll be fine.\" A snooty looking woman in the front row exclaimed. \"I've got enough toilet paper and canned foods to last me multiple lifetimes.\" \n\n\"That works on a single person scale, but we've still got a big population that needs help. We need to work. If we all learn how to provide basic necessities like food and shelter, maybe we can work this out and deal with the other stuff later.\" Joseph's suggestion earned him some jeers.\n\n\"I've got an idea! Let's just plan this tomorrow!\" Someone chimed in from the crowd. Plenty of people cheered in agreement.\n\n\"We can't live like that!\" Joseph began to get exasperated with the crowd. It was no wonder he'd never seen a slob in office. They were useless when surrounded with like minded people. \"Don't you get it? Up until now, we had security, whether it be parents that let us live with them, a spouse that earned the wages, or money left over from a lawsuit for a medical injury that healed years ago!\" The crowd began to quiet down. \"We can't just keep expecting people to take care of our problems for us! We're the people now! And that has to mean something.\" \n\nThe room had gone silent. Clearly nobody liked hearing the truth, Joseph thought. Maybe if they could actually get their crap together, we could work this out. \n\n\"If you want to fight this alone, then leave.\" Joseph's voice was strong with conviction; something he hadn't felt ten minutes ago. \"But we're what's left. If we don't do something, then we've got nothing. And we didn't make it this far because of nothing.\" Joseph waited for some kind of response, even if it was just a tomato -scratch that- a mountain dew bottle being thrown at him. Instead, he watched as a fair portion of the audience filed out of the room. He waited until the last had gone before looking back at the remaining people.\n\n\"If you didn't leave, I take it you want to survive. And I think we can do this. We may not be the strongest, or the smartest, or the most ambitious, but we're still here. And I'd say that gives us pretty good odds of making this work.\"\n\nA few of the people began clapping and Joseph had a momentary flood of pride before he smiled at the group. Maybe they were screwed. Maybe they'd only survived this far only to fail, but at least they were taking a chance that none of them had been willing to take before. \n\nAnd who knew? Perhaps the world's most brilliant minds were trapped in the bodies of slobs. There was only one way to find out.", "He'd introduced himself as Phil, but by that time he had become irrevocably known as Captain Crustbeard in my head. I'm not usually one for mean nicknames, but people don't usually make me feel vaguely nauseous in their presence either. It was the smell that turned my head before I even saw him as he made a dramatically late entrance through the double doors of the town hall; a cocktail of rancid sweat and the belched-out remains of old meals. I was amazed that the smell could reach me even through the thick, dirty scents of the hall- hell, if the air was any more saturated with sweat it would start raining. That was the first thing about Captain Crustbeard that defied belief.\n\nHis trenchcoat swept behind him in all its dusty and pit-stained glory as he waddled up to the podium. I couldn't see much of his face, hidden as it was beneath a trilby placed at what I could only assume was meant to be a jaunty angle. But I could see the beard. The grave of dorito crumbs and what appeared to be most of a pizza crust, wiry and pubelike.\n \n\nHis voice was strangely reedy. \"My fellow survivors, my brothers!\" (Clearly he hadn't noticed the women in the hall) \"My name is Phil. I have called you here today to lead you out of this strife which humanity has brought upon itself, and to save you from impending doom!\" My eyes darted around the room as it erupted into titters, people glancing around as nervously as I was. Doom?\n\n\n\"Yes, my fellows. Fear not, for I am prepared. My many hours of playing Left 4 Dead and The Last of Us have prepared me for this.\" Dear God, surely he can't mean-\n\n\n\"That's right. I will lead you all through the Zombie apocalypse.\"\n\nI heard the loud and awkward slap of high-fives, saw stern and serious nods from the aspiring Crustbeards in the audience. This was nuts.\n\n\"My brothers, I shall-\"\n\n\"Hey, excuse me.\" Captain Crustbeard was startled, blinking owl-like as he leaned forward on the podium to bring the blue flames on his shirt into full view. I heard a distinct creak. I cleared my throat a little, conscious of all the eyes on me.\n\n\"Speak, fellow.\"\n\n\"It's not a zombie apocalypse. It's a viral pandemic- I've been working at the hospital since it first broke out, and I've seen a lot of people come down with it. None of them turned into zombies.\"\n\nThrough this speech his brows are furrowing, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout. \"So you're saying you're a doctor?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I work in the-\"\n\n\"An applied biologist then.\" The sneer on his upper lip is unmistakeable. \"Well, I'm an engineering major, so don't you worry your little biologist head about the hard science here. I've seen enough zombies to know what's going to happen.\"\n\nEarl, who had recently upgraded from sleeping on park benches to sleeping in deserted houses, raised his hand. \"So you seen zombies, then?\"\n\nCaptain Crustbeard's eyes darted around the room, and I could see- and smell- the sweat welling up across his chins. \"Well, in movies and games. I'm actually quite the zombie afficianado-\"\n\n\"But in real life, have you seen zombies?\"\n\n\"Well, not yet.\"\n\nThe crowd erupts then, and he bangs his fists on the table, beet red, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. \"Silence, plebs! You see this badge?\" He jabs one thick finger towards his chest where a silver upside-down V is pinned. \"You see this? This is a badge of my authority. I am your Captain!\"\n\nIt happened slowly at first, as we all sat in stunned silence at his outburst. Then slowly, we upped and left. As I walked through the door, I heard him splutter. \"You- you- REDSHIIIIIIIIIIRTS!\"\n\n\n" ]

[ 2, 3 ]

[ "1404952591", "1404952859" ]

[ "I forgot my Abilities again today. My purse feels heavier than normal, and I'm not hungry. It's too late to return home to take them, and I can just lie to the Population Control Officers when I get to work. The train is very loud and I'm dreading walking through the snow to get to my office, but I need to.\n\nMy office is in a cubical farm, with about 500,000 other people that work there. It is very small and functional, I never mind not having the space unless I forget my Abilities. I climb the metal ladder to the 12th stack of cubes, shrink down to enter through the port hole door, look at how small it is, only large enough for a laptop and a chair, and realize how dark it seems. I bump my head on the ceiling, it is shorter than I am tall. The black walls and ceiling are great for working on a computer. I'm used to feeling cramped and swallowed.\n\n\nMy project for today is to write up a column for the newspaper about the five new Abilities that are being added to the list of Human Enjoyment Bonuses For Daily Supplementation. I pull up the research and a blank document to jot notes on. \n\n-------------------------------\nGOVT DEPARTMENT OF HUMAN ENJOYMENT RESEARCH\n\nABILITIES 36, 37, 40, 42, 50\n\n36- MODIFIER 36. \n\nSUBJECTS DECREASE IN DESIRE TO OBJECT\n\n37- MODIFIER 37\n\nSUBJECTS TOLERATED A PERSONAL SPACE DECREASE OF 15%\n\n40- SUPPLEMENT 40\n\nSUBJECTS DESCRIBED \"FEELINGS OF JOY AND PLEASURE\" DURING PAINFUL STIMULUS\n\n42- ERASER 42\n\nSUBJECTS COMPLIED IN SITUATIONS THAT PREVIOUSLY INDUCED PAIN\n\n50- PERMANENT 50\n\nSUBJECTS COMPLIED WITH ALL COMMANDS\n\n\nDUE FOR PRESS RELEASE 10/07/2014\n-------------------------------------------------\n\n\nThe new ones aren't all that bad at least. My Abilities consisted of Ability 14, which is a modifier known for reducing anxiety, and Ability 3, a supplement known for increasing happiness. \n\nWhen I forget my Abilities, I always seem a little off, but never bad enough that I need to take my Abilities. I always take my Abilities anyways though, if the PCO checks my dosages and finds that I have not been taking them, I will be switched to a Permanent, which only require one dose to remain effective forever. Though it is surprising that they have not noticed my missing doses.\n\nI jot some notes and remember my friend Jill, who was not so lucky with her Abilities. She took Modifiers, Supplements, Erasers, and two Permanents, that were given to her at birth due to her natural Lack of Docility. A day without her Abilities was the day she had a Lapse of Enjoyment And Function or a LEAF. Her LEAF involved her getting on the train for work, a hour long magnet train with no stops across the gulf of mexico. She got on at the Port of Residency 4 heading towards the City of Production and Manufacturing. About 15 minutes in, 100 miles offshore, she had her LEAF. The passengers that restrained her noted her screaming, which is controlled by Modifier 16, her attempting to leave the train by breaking a window, which would have been prevented by Modifier 19, and begging to be killed, due to a memory that was erased by Eraser 9. They restrained her until they arrived at the city and the PCO was able to take her to the Office of Enjoyment and Mindfulness. \n\nI shake off the memory and notice that my butt is going numb. My chair is a formed metal seat, that feels very uncomfortable, almost like my bones are crushing the muscle into it. Every day it's this damn chair. Every day it's me bumping my head. Every day it's me sitting in this hole. I feel like this every day. I take my Abilities and still, I can't help but feel like I am annoyed and stuck every day. \n\n(I can keep going, but I need to post this)", "\nEvery day after morning announcements, I swallow my pill. The teacher hands them out; round and white, one per pupil. The pill helps us concentrate. The pill keeps us calm. Everyone in the state swallows their pill at 9:00 a.m. Every day.\n\nToday we have a substitute teacher. She is tall and pear-like. She says, \"Your regular teacher, Mr. Sonnel, will be away the rest of the week.\" She gives no further explanation. \n\n*Good morning everyone*, the P.A. system crackles with the voice of student senate. *Today is Thursday, June 5, 2014, and these are your morning announcements. Please rise for the singing of our national anthem.* \n\nWe all stand and face the flag. The recording plays out. No one sings along. The P.A. system crackles and the announcements proceed. *And now, a message from our school librarian. 'Just a reminder that all books are due back by Monday, June 9th...'*\n\nI watch as the substitute takes the bag of pills out of her shoulder bag. Strange, considering Mr. Sonnel usually takes them from his desk drawer. Maybe substitutes are given their own supply each day. \n\nFinally the announcements finish, and she begins to distribute the pills. The pill almost rolls off my desk and I scramble to catch it, flattening it under my palm. I hadn't been expecting her to drop it like that. Mr. Sonnel usually hands me the pill directly. With a swig of water I swallow it down.\n\nImmediately I know that something is wrong. My head is spinning and grey-purple clouds edge my vision. I think that I'm about to pass out. Breathing heavily, I glance around the room. Emma, the second smartest girl, makes eye contact with me. Her face shows worry and a glimmer of panic but she says nothing. I follow her lead. \n\nAt the back of the class, Sam pipes up. \"I think the dose is wrong. I'm not feeling well,\" she complains. \n\nThe teacher is full of concern. \"A reaction to the pill?\" she asks. \"The side effects are well known but by now most people are tolerant. What's going on?\"\n\nSam refrains from answering but still looks unwell so the teacher sends her down to the office. I'm considering going with her but then, all at once, the symptoms stop altogether. A deep calm blankets my mind. I barely even notice that Sam doesn't return to class. *Isn't she feeling better now, too?* I wonder.\n\nWe spend the morning studying math and chemistry, and top of the class, I answer many questions as usual. I can tell the substitute likes me. I like her too. I am actually a big fan of all of my peers, I suddenly realize. \n\nLunch rolls around and I enter the cafeteria, sitting at the first available chair. I see my friends across the room but I'm here already so what does it matter? I'm usually shy but today I'm not anxious at all. I join the tenth graders in chatting about new movies. They invite me to see one next week.\n\nWhen I'm finished eating the mild but delicious cafeteria food, Emma wanders over to our table. \"Walk with me,\" she requests. \n\nStrolling the near-empty hallways I notice that Emma seems agitated. \"What's wrong?\" I inquire, having difficulty imagining anything being wrong on a day like today. \n\n\"Do you remember this morning,\" she says carefully. *This morning, this morning…* I'm having trouble remembering. A cold ache takes root in my chest. I feel as if I've forgotten something important. \"Mr. Sonnel's absence, and now Sam's?\" she prompts.\n\nAha! Everything clicks into place. The cold feeling washes away and I give Emma a grin. \"Yes, I remember now!\" I say. \"We had a reaction to the pill this morning! Sam, me, and presumably you.\" I wait for Emma's praise, utterly delighted in finding the right answer.\n\n\"Yes,\" she says, but in a tone that makes it sound like I am incredibly useless to her. \n\nI decide to ponder it further. Why would the pill be of interest to Emma? We take the pill every day. The pill's job is to make us calm and focussed. I am more calm and more focussed than I ever have been in my life. I am so very,very focussed on everything that the teacher puts before me. And even now, I am so very focussed on what Emma is trying to discuss. More focussed than EVER before. Lucky me, since we take the exact same pill for this purpose every single day. Every day, the same pill….\n\nExcept not today.\n\n\"Mr. Sonnel had placebo pills,\" I whisper. ", "Sitting in his dark apartment, no electricity, no job and no education. He thinks, why not miss a dose? In his mind he sees himself on national news, his body twitching as the SWAT team peppers it with lead. They would cut out to a wide angle establishing shot as the clean cut newscaster rattles off the number of dead. The message would be laid on thick, stay in school, take your dose or you'll end up like this looser. \n\nHe knows it's bullshit. He isn't making a choice. He ran out of doses yesterday and was too lazy to go down to the dispenser to get more.\n\nOutside the familiar sound of a police helicopter brings him back to his fantasy: instead of a SWAT team gunning him down as he exits a burning building it's the chain gun of a police helicopter as he races down the highway in a stolen car. No wait, a stolen Ferrari. With each pass his story gets fleshed out.\n\nIn a flash 6 hours have passed. He feels... he feels... apathy. The same depression that has cloaked him for the past several years pins him to his decrepit couch. His master plan to blow up the local pharmacy that was moments ago so real is now a broken dream. It's been relegated to the same space as his plans to go back to school, get a job, bang a supermodel.\n\nA passing police car's sirens wails in the growing dusk as his world collapses around him. Why isn't he possessed by a blood lust. Unless...\n\n \"Placebo\"\n\nIt's empowering. In a flash he knows a secret kept to all but a handful of men and women. He needs to tell the people; be a messiah. Make a fortune telling the story of how he put it all together again and again on countless talk shows and news programs. Build a series of self help books revolving around drug free living. His feet carry him out of his shitty apartment like they are possessed. \n\nPast the broken elevator: \"not long til I'm living in a fancy apartment with a whole bank of them, staring at my reflection in the freshly polished brass\" he says. Down the stairs and out the door, \"not long now\" he says.\n\nIt might be near midnight, but where he's standing it looks like midday.\n\n\"This is the police, we know you've missed your last few doses. Put your hands up slowly and we won't hurt you\" shouts the megaphone hidden somewhere behind the wall of armed officers.\n\nA bewildered look is all he can manage before the apartment complex behind his erupted in flames. Of course we knew he didn't take his dose, of course we were waiting outside his front door. Waiting for him to step out. Why?\n\nElementary, high school, a few years at a community college all at the government's expense. How much have we spent on him? $50,000? $100,000? All to get another broken drone incapable of repaying his debt to society. If he can't work to repay it, he will die too. He'll give his life to keep the kids in school, keep them taking their doses.\n\nShots ring out without warning. We were always going to edit a gun into his hand, it costs pennies more to add some beat cop yelling \"he's got a gun\".\n\nHe's bleeding out now, won't live long. The first person to get to him is the cameraman. Sticks a mic in the dying boy's face. Maybe. just maybe he'll say something worth repeating. \n\n\"...Placebo...\" He croaks. \n\nDumb kid. Should've stayed in school, should've taken his dose.\n\nEdit: wrote this on my phone, first post :P" ]

[ 1, 3, 5 ]

[ "1407288381", "1405010303", "1405004384" ]

[ "*HONK!*\n\n\"Move it, asshole!\"\n\nThe man in the car behind him continued to honk his horn and scream at him to move. Mike could do little more than look in his rear-view mirror at the red-faced maniac behind him. Mike could see that the man was screaming, but the sound was muffled by the loud hum of the air conditioner.\n\nTraffic had been backed up both ways on the Golden Gate Bridge since 8am, which was almost four hours ago. Mike had been turning the car on and off at half hours intervals to save gas. He looked down at his watch.\n\n\"Shit\" he mumbled. Mike reached out and turned the key to shut the car off. It had been a quick half hour, and he hardly felt any cooler. He rolled down his window and stuck his head out. The dry heat was almost unbearable. As his head hung out the window, Mike heard the man behind yelling out his window at some unfortunate schmuck in the next lane. He turned his head to look, and saw the red-faced man getting out of his car.\n\n*Oh boy..*, Mike thought. *Is this guy serious?*\n\nHe saw the man reach into his back seat, pulling out an aluminum baseball bat. The man walked over to the person he had been yelling at. He took off his shirt, exposing a hairy beer belly and a chest tattoo of a sprawled out naked woman. The man began waving his arms, shouting obscenities at the other driver. In one swift motion, he brought his aluminum bat down onto the hood of the car with a loud thud. He continued to beat the car, smashing the headlights and passenger-side windows.\n\nAs the man walked back to his car, Mike heard him yell to the other driver, \"Piss me off again, and I'll bash your goddam head in!\"\n\nJust as the red-faced man got into his car, the earth began to quake. The entire bridge was swaying violently. Mike put his seat-belt on and gripped the steering wheel, holding on tightly. \n\nAs he looked down the line of cars, Mike saw the middle of the bridge collapse, falling down into the water while people screamed from their cars. He looked in his mirror, and everyone behind him must have seen it too, since everyone was getting out of their cars and running to get off the bridge. Mike unbuckled his seat-belt and got out of the car. \n\nAs he began to run, a violent spasm of the bridge threw Mike to his feet. He heard an impossibly loud cracking noise. Beneath the bridge, the earth was opening up, the waters of the San Fransisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean pouring into the chasm. \n\nLightning began to streak across the sky, several large bolts hitting the towers of the bridge. The sky turned blood red, and the lightning bolts were soon accompanied by the enormous fire balls that rained down from the heavens. \n\nMike stared in awe, unable to believe what was happening. \n\n\"Shit!\" he yelled. \"Shit shit shit!\" He got back up to his feet and began to run. \n\nOut of the chasm, the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse emerged, cloaked in tattered black robes, mounted upon skeletal steeds whose eyes burned with the fires of Hell. The Horsemen rose high into the air, and came back down upon the sinful so that they may be smitten. \n\nMiked booked it toward the end of the bridge. As he ran, he saw the red-faced man had tripped and fallen. Just as Mike turned to go help him, one of the Horsemen fell upon the man, it's ghostly sword swinging through the air. It held the man's head, then dropped it to the ground. The head rolled over to Mike's feet. He was stunned with fear. He watched helplessly as the Horseman rode toward him, ready to deliver heavenly justice for the sins of mankind. Mike closed his eyes. ", "The air conditioner was jammed, leaving Peter stuck in traffic in a humid pick-up truck, as he waited patiently to get to his job. It was 7:00 am on a scorching Wednesday, and Peter tapped his fingers on the side on his dashboard, wanting nothing more than to run out of his truck and get ahead of everybody. \"That would be idiotic\", he thought, as he watched sailboats glide gracefully under the Golden Gate Bridge. Growing restless, he turned the radio on, and tuned it to a random station. \n\n106.9 FM was just wrapping up a story about terrorist attacks in Egypt. \"After the bombing in Sohag, 15 are reported dead, 5 injured, and another 27 still missing. We will keep you updated on this throughout the day, but first, here's Ken Campbell with an update on the earthquake that hit right off of the coast of California.\" Peter raised his eyebrows, and turned the volume up. \"Well this is interesting\", he said out loud, pressing the gas pedal as he inched closer to his destination. \"Thank you Martha. That's right, the entire west coast should stay alert, as this specific tremor is the largest to occur in the past 17 years. It has also been a record-breaking week for just the sheer amount of quakes, as there have been over *430* and counting, with the majority of them falling along the San Andreas Fault.\" \"Now\", the original newscaster broke in,\"does this mean that citizens along the west coast should take shelter? Specifically those in areas like San Francisco and Oakland.\" \n\"Not necessarily\", he said,\"quakes this far off are rarely a cause for concern, but it could be a sign of more to come.\" \n\nThe car behind Peter honked it's horn, and as he poked his head out the window to see what the problem was, the first thing he noticed was that the suspension cables on the bridge were shaking. From inside the vehicle, he could hear the radio beginning to lose connection. \"This -chh- last 10 years -chhh- more and more of th -chhhh.\" He turned the knob a little to the right. \"**ATTENTION! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY ANNOUNCMENT!**\" the announcer blurted. \"**A MAGNITUDE 8.5 EARTHQUAKE HAS BEEN DETECTED NEAR SAN FRANCISCO, I REPEAT!**\" What started as a faint vibration began to pick up momentum, and Peter could hear an ominous rumble coming from under him. The car behind Peter honked it's horn again, and looking in his rear-view mirror, he could see that the driver was panicking. \n\n\"Get the hell off the bridge! Everybody get off or we'll die out here!,\" he heard, as a bald, stocky man in a red v-neck came sprinting out of nowhere. \"Get out of your cars! NOW, NOW, NOW!!!\" \"This is real\", Peter thought, \"We're doing this, this is really happening.\" Leaving all of his stuff behind except for his wallet and his phone, Peter jumped out of his car and began to rush to safety, running as fast as he could back to the other side of the bridge. He wasn't alone. Glancing to his side he saw a mother carrying her baby, and an african-american family, running hand in hand as one of their kids shouted out \"My *BLANKET*! I want my *BLANKET*!\" It only got worse, as one of the cables snapped in half and came whipping onto the road, breaking a car's windshield. Peter wasn't focused on that, though. Putting one foot in front of the other, he began to pick up speed. He wasn't nearly fast enough though, as part of the bridge collapsed thirty feet in front of him. There was only one option now. \n\nJump." ]

[ 2, 2 ]

[ "1405038016", "1405038721" ]

[ "As I'm standing at the airport, I can't help but think of how strangely the past few years have gone by. I was 17 when the outbreak occurred, not even into my senior year of high school, and the world was already coming to an end. I remember thinking it was a joke when they announced it. It was October 13th, and the CDC interrupted all channels - including the newest episode of Catfish that I was watching - to confirm that yes, a virus capable of zombifying humans and reanimating dead tissue had been spreading throughout the contiguous United States, and other cases had been reported in Europe, Asia, South America, Canada, and Africa. They told us to not continue with our regularly scheduled programming, but to prepare for any emergency evacuation needed and to contact loved ones, if we could, and pray.\n\nFor a while, we thought it was the end. Maybe we had missed the rapture, and there were so few good people on earth that had been taken that we didn't notice, and this was the second wave. Extinction of the human race. Stores were looted, people freaked out, moved into the Mall like they'd seen in movies, set up safe houses, stockpiled weapons, suped their cars up to \"zombie killing\" status. But then we started to notice that it was a manageable situation. \n\nHonestly, if you could walk faster than say, 3 miles per hour, you'd be fine. That's why New York City hadn't really been affected. I heard a rumor once that one zombie made it's way into the Big Apple, but people kept breezing past him, till someone knocked him down, and then they just trampled him, and he died (well, re-died) from a stiletto heel through his frontal lobe as some businesswoman was on her way to work. Sure, there were isolated incidents of killings and bitings, etc., but it was fairly normal. \n\nThen the Government came on the horn. You see, after we all got used to the zombies, we were all like \"Okay, this is great, whatever, some guy is stumbling around outside my house and he wants to eat me but he doesn't exactly know what glass is so he's kind of just annoyingly hitting his face on my window, but I can deal. What are you guys going to do to stop them?\" and we waited for the Government's response. So we sat at our TVs and turned them up to drown out the thunk, thunk, thunk, of poor dead guy head against our window, and we waited for the plan. But you know what they said? \"You guys figure it out\".\n\nBRILLIANT PLAN Mr. President! Well, not in those exact words, but they told us they were letting the issue of zombie population control be handled by city and state governments. So that's what they did. \n\nI'm looking at the airport arrivals/departures board and I can't help think about how differently they all handled the situation. New York - There was a zombie apocalypse? Oh. Late for a meeting, gotta run! Boston - Zahmbies? Oh, yeah, killing them is wicked fun! We've got a police state here, basically. Detroit - .... Oh yeah, that's why it's written in red on this board. Detroit didn't really care to make a plan, they kind of just let it happen. No big loss.\n\nAt least my city handled it. You see, in New York state, Texas, Arkansas, Montana, Michigan (Minus Detroit), New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and about 17 other states, you can apply for a \"Zombie Hunting License\" at the age of 13. It works the same as basically every other hunting license but the quota is \"How many bullets can you carry on your person? That.\". Hunters head up to their local Rez Rez (Resurrected Reservation, because Americans are really good at putting things they don't like onto little plots of land) and start racking up head shots. I've heard it's quite relaxing.\n\nThe relaxing hunting, however, is only one of the first benefits to the zombie apocalypse. World hunger? World shmunger! When large amounts of the world can't eat something if it's not human flesh or grey matter, food surplus comes hand in hand. Gang violence? Guess who teamed up to help retake the city of Detroit from the zombies? The Crips, the Bloods, and local law enforcement! And, on a personal note, I get to attend one of the best private colleges in the state for next to nothing, because 45% of the Class of 2015, nationally, is off in pursuit of anther type of brains. Zombies are not quite eligible for scholarships.\n\nThat's life, I suppose. Living in the ending world. Where one's horror becomes another's benefit, as it always has. And with prices of airfare at their lowest since 1960, I am definitely grateful for the opportunity to go to Cali for spring break with my girlfriend on the cheap. Thanks, zombies!", "The class field trip to the battlements was going well. Mrs. Dunaway gestured towards the horizon, but she hardly needed to as her 9th graders all leaned against the side to take panorama photos of the spectacular view with their phones. The children didn't go outside much these days.\n\n\"Would anyone like to answer a bonus credit question? The bonus credit will go towards next week's quiz!\"\n\nA plethora of hands shot up. Good grades were needed to avoid being drafted into the Hunters. It was an honor, supposedly, to be chosen to be a Hunter, and the rigorous training improved one's physical health, at least for the short term, not to mention martial prowess and, on rare returns from Hunts, certainly the respect and admiration of your peers. But all the children, especially children *of* Hunters, knew how slim one's chances of survival were among the ranks of the Hunters. For a Hunter, death was not the worst fate.\n\n\"Zoe, why don't you take this one?\"\n\nThe mousy little girl was a late bloomer, having been the shortest girl in class just a year ago, but now her limbs were gangling and awkward, and she held her frame in a timid hunch ever since she sprouted. She had the look of a teenager who could one day grow to become a fair lady, but like an ugly duckling she would have to put up with the torments of the prettier girls in the class... for now.\n\n\"Alright Zoe, tell me: after an Infected has been bitten, what occurs?\"\n\n\"After the virus travels through the saliva, viral mutations occur in the bone marrow and the... uh... the thyroid gland! This decreases the ability to make certain proteins, and therefore the Infected have a need to consume human flesh. The changes to the thyroid increase hormonal production, causing rage and superhuman strength.\"\n\n\"Very good! Go on...\"\n\n\"When the virus progresses to the point where it has proliferated throughout the body it begins attacking the frontal lobe, slowly degrading the Infected's mind, and ability to control impulses. By the time the virus eats through the frontal lobe completely, the Infected is unable to commit to higher level thinking.\"\n\nZoe's voice had slowly lowered to a hoarse mumble. But Mrs. Dunaway could still hear her. Zoe was a bright one, but her father was a Hunter, and so the chances of her being drawn for Hunter's Duty when she came of age would be twofold greater. It was one of the reasons why Mrs. Dunaway chose her to answer the question.\n\n\"Very good Zoe! You get bonus points for next week's quiz. Would anyone else like to answer a question for bonus points? Julian?\"\n\nJulian was held back a year, not because he wasn't very bright, but simply because he refused to apply himself. He stared sullenly towards the forests which the battlements overlooked. He was a strong boy, blessed with natural physical gifts - broad shoulders and a lean frame - and of course that didn't bode well. Mrs. Dunaway knew that Julian loved Basketball in Junior High, but he never competed. No one dared join a sports team anymore, not unless they were suicidal. It was not as if you would have much time to play, anyway, before you were inducted into Hunter's Duty. The more you succeeded, the worse your odds.\n\nJulian didn't answer. He continued to stare at nothing in particular. The thunderous *crack* of a Hunter's rifle could be heard far in the distance.\n\nMrs. Dunaway sighed. It was no use.\n\n\"Charles?\"\n\n\"Yes, Mrs. Dunaway?\"\n\n\"Charles, could you tell me what the current estimates for population of Infected is?\"\n\n\"...\"\n\nCharles shifted his feet nervously. Poor Charles. Charles was the runt of the litter. Not very bright, but strong willed and with a kind heart, Charles tried his very best when confronted with challenge. But it wasn't enough.\n\n\"I... I don't know, Mrs. Dunaway.\"\n\nMrs. Dunaway smiled. How could she scold her class? When she knew the horrors that lay ahead for so many of them. Before the Cataclysm, when she was still just a very young woman starting her first job at a Catholic Prep School, oh how furious she could get at her kids! The lectures, the scolding! She was known as the \"Taskmaster\" for every time a student disobeyed her, she would punish them with extremely tedious tasks, like writing down the factors for every non-prime number up to 1,000 in a little chart. She would get so stressed out over the smallest things - gum chewing, nasty names, class disruption - but after the Cataclysm, children rarely disobeyed, and teachers were rarely perturbed. Everyone was forced to mature a lot faster these days.\n\n\"That's okay Charles.\"\n\nCharles was on the verge of tears. Stuttering, he said \"I... I'm s... sorry, Muh... Muh... Mrs... D... Dunaway.\"\n\nNo one laughed. No children laugh anymore.\n\nMrs. Dunaway put a gentle hand on Charles' heaving shoulder. \"It's okay, It's okay.\" She whipped out a small chocolate, her secret weapon after twenty years of teaching, and placed it in Charles' palm. Immediately the red-haired boys eyes lit up. Treats were rare these days. All measures were made to keep the population as fit for fighting as possible and things like chocolates were rationed... severely.\n\nBut of course, as small as the chocolate was, Charles began breaking it into little pieces, to share. Charles was a good boy like that. Mrs. Dunaway was glad she had at least three more years with these children.\n\nShe looked back at the class.\n\n\"The Cataclysm happened before all of you were born\", she began, \"It may seem quite extraordinary but there were over 9 billion people on Earth when it occurred!\"\n\nThe class held rapt attention. The world before the Cataclysm was mythical to them. Almost a fairy tale.\n\n\"We've stabilized now at a population of 500 million, scattered across stronghold cities across the globe. So who's ready to do some quick math?\"\n\nEvery single little hand shot up.\n\n\"Alexa?\"\n\nAlexa was blonde and fair, the most popular girl in the class. And she had a bit of a mean streak too, but since the last year or two, since the children all learned about the Hunter's Draft when they came of age, she had become much more diplomatic, if still as manipulative as ever. Alexa wasn't Mrs. Dunaway's favorite student, but then again a teacher's duty was to her students, no matter what.\n\n\"My father told me that over half the population died during the first months of the Cataclysm-\", Alexa bit her lip and cast her eyes downward, \"-but then came the Hunters.\"\n\n\"That's right, Alexa.\" Mrs. Dunaway continued, \"For the next ten years, ever since the Hunter's Legions were established, we fought-\" she was lucky, Mrs. Dunaway, having graduated magna-cum-laude at Amherst, and then receiving her Masters in Education at Harvard, she was one of the few who wasn't chosen for Hunter's Duty. Still, the years had taken their toll, and even though she was only in her mid forties, Mrs. Dunaway's hair had all gone completely white.\n\n\"-and the Hunters, they won?\" It was Julian. He had turned from the battlements, and now locked his cold, grey gaze directly at Mrs. Dunaway's green eyes. His voice was laced with acidic irony when he said this.\n\nMrs. Dunaway composed herself, and spoke solemnly \"No, Julian. The war rages on. But we're alive. Humanity is still alive. And we have men like your father to thank.\"\n\nJulian cast his gaze downward in sadness.\n\n" ]

[ 7, 20 ]

[ "1405071074", "1405069377" ]

[ "\"Millhouse it seems as though we are in fact, in a simulation!\" cried out Poindexter who was so excited that even his boils seemed to turn a darker shade of crimson\n\n\"Preposterous!\" cried out Millhouse\n\n\"Get a hold of yourself!\" Poindexter grabbed Millhouse by his checkered bowtie that his mother had chosen for him a few days ago\n\n\"Impossible!\" Millhouse choked as Poindexter's grip tightened around his neck\n\n\"My God man, do you see the ramifications of such a discovery! We must share this with our fellow scientist geniuses at once!\" Poindexters hands seemed to pull harder at Millhouse's bowtie with every word\n\n\"Mghfhgfmgh\" Millhouse gurgled", "It was liberating.\n\nThe lives, the deaths, the stress and challenges of our lives were part a simulation for all humans. Nothing more.\n\nThe news was shocking to some. Instantaneously, you would know if the person was psychologically disturbed. Normal people were almost always relieved or curious about the simulation--but the crazy ones couldn't handle the news.\n\nMaybe they wanted something more. Maybe they were jealous of God. \n\nSam told us he had been looking for instructions from God his entire life, and then God told him it didn't matter.\n\nThat was before he became our apocalyptic psychopomp. The power struggle in the aftermath of the revelation triggered a violent uprising, and Sam made it to the top of the world by acquiring a huge arsenal. He stormed the national government.\n\nBefore launching the nuclear missiles, he said:\n\n\"God should have given me a manual.\"", "Oddly enough, when the story hit the papers, streaked across the front page in big bold print, it wasn't panic or fear that gripped people. In fact, people were surprisingly accepting and complacent of the notion. It was like something they always knew; an old memory that had been replaced with the rest of their life.\n\nNo, the biggest change in everyone was an intense curiosity, a thought as potent and transforming as the headline, \"Well if life is a simulation, then who has the high score?\". \n\nA strong yearning flared up in every man and woman; to leave their watermark on the computer they lived in, to make some part of circuitry that fueled them all show that they, and only they, were the best at some statistic. It was the only way they could truly exist.\n\nSo artists created art, pouring the vacuum of their soul into every medium, creating bold masterpieces that expanded into uncharted creativity. Scientists dug away at the walls of their computing, achieving great progress and ushering in golden age technologies. \n\nWars ceased. People were ashamed of the brutality of their past. Seeing that they fell into their into weakness and destroyed each other, they vowed collectively that they would not fail. As strong as their thirst for greatness, was a fear that failure meant obscurity. Just another failed test subject.\n\nThus mankind was still full of fears and hopes, but that was when man changed to truly achieved greatness. Because, God does exist, and he's grading you.", "\"Are you *absolutely certain* that it's in our best interest to do this?\" Michael asked, standing at the control panel. He was fully aware of the possible ramifications of this moment, as he was sure everyone in the room was as well. Scientists and news agencies from across the world had gathered here for this experiment. But with an event in human history of this magnitude, only double- and triple-checking your work was considered recklessly inadequate, and this was the final step. The basis of all human evolution and technological developments is the desire to learn and to adapt to the information. Knowledge is the ultimate power, and the pursuit of it is an inevitability. There's always going to be someone asking the questions. \n\nBut sometimes, the answers change everything.\n\nSome things you can't un-learn.\n\nImagine for a moment: Human civilization evolves for millennia, and our technology grows exponentially along side it. Computer simulations are an integral part of the world; from weather forecasts to architectural design to future astronomical predictions, being able to simulate the physical world around us gives us knowledge that better prepare us for the future. \n\nTechnology advances on an exponential scale; Moore's law all but guarantees it. Computer power doubles every two years. In the early stages of computing, simulations were limited to small interactions and took days to process. But every two years, more processing power meant we could simulate more complex scenarios, and the evolution of artificial intelligence and physics engines means those simulations became more and more accurate. \n\nThis evolution rapidly increases until the present day, when simulating, for example, the movement of the Earth's tectonic plates or the migration patterns of bird populations in real time doesn’t sound all that absurd.\n\nNow imagine if you extrapolate that data out into the distant future. Is it out of the realm of possibility that the simulations we would be able to run then could simulate, down to the atomic level, an entire planet, teeming with life? Or an entire galaxy? Or an entire *universe?* The mathematical answer is that it is not only possible, it is inevitable. \n\nAs unfathomably large as the universe that we live in is, everything is still made up of atoms. As uncalculatably large as the number of atoms in the universe is, it still *is* a number, finite just like the rest of them. So computing power will increase until, at some point, it can simulate that many atoms and their interactions. And that means at one point in the very distant future, an advanced civilization of humans will be able to simulate *the entire universe,* from the giant supernovae down to the smallest micro-organism and beyond.\n\nAnd then two years after that point, computer power doubles again. \n\nAnd suddenly, the simulation can run a simulation of it’s own. Two years after that, it can run 4 universes, all nested within each other. The amount of simulations possible doubles alongside computing power, and in just 100 short years, the number of simulations possible is in the billions.\n\nSo if there is only *one* real universe and *billions and billions* of simulated ones, what are the odds that *we* live in the one true reality?\n\nThe odds are against us.\n\n“Michael, the amount of funding and research that has gone into this project is too much to just be abandoned at the last possible moment,” said John, a little too much contempt in his voice. He’d headed up the project to build the most power electron microscope ever conceived, and combined with a state-of-the-art particle accelerator, would attempt to try to reveal the “resolution” of the universe. The mathematics behind the idea are understandably complex, but it comes down to a very simple fact: The ‘real’ world wouldn’t have a resolution. Simulations would, and attempt to measure things small enough and you will eventually find it. \n\nKnowing our entire existence was a fabrication was a possibility that could lead any number of ways. It’s possible that nobody would understand or care and life would continue as normal. It’s also possible that nuclear war could spark if all it took was one unstable world power thinking it all didn’t matter anyways. A fiery end to the civilizations of the world and the possible death of all humanity was possible at stake. John understood the implications very well, and was tired of Michael’s constant *are-you-sure*-ing throughout the years of development that he had given to this project.\n\n“I just want to be sure this is information that the world is ready for.” Michael said quietly. He had resigned himself to the fact that the project would continue on regardless of his stance on the matter, but he still made meager attempts to ensure everyone knew what was at stake.\n\nHe turned the key and flipped the switch, and machinery all around them sparked to life, humming in increasing frequencies and building up to an anti-climactic *pop* as the particle accelerator fired.\n\nAn agonizing minute went by as the electron microscope processed and calculated it’s findings. Michael broke out into a cold sweat as the clock ticked by, while John cooly stared at the monitor, waiting for the results. The attending flock of scientists and media crowded silently behind them.\n\nThe monitor flickers and shows the outcome of it’s calculations:\n\n**ERROR: Resolution limit reached. Unable to measure beyond .0125672 planck lengths**\n\nThe room fell absolutely silent for what seemed like an hour as everyone in attendance struggled to accept what they were seeing.\n\n“Holy mother of god” Michael uttered finally, mouth agape, cold chills surging through his body. *It’s true!*\n\nThe room explodes in a flurry of hushed, frantic conversations and fingers hammering away at keyboards. Wide eyed news reporters struggle to find the words to explain to the camera the implications of what they now know to be true. *The entire world will know in a matter of hours,* Michael thought.\n\n*What have we done?*" ]

[ 1, 7, 8, 21 ]

[ "1405104427", "1405102405", "1405106355", "1405104822" ]

[ "It was two hours since I got the vaccine at the hospital. They said I might be a bit dizzy if my body reacts badly to it but I didn’t think it would feel like this. My chest felt strange. Tingling all over my chest. What was going on, was there something wrong with my heart? No no that couldn’t be I’m in perfect health without any heart problems in the family. Is this cause of the vaccine? I headed towards the bathroom and unbuttoned my shirt. My nipples were hard and my entire chest saw red. Damn, what in the hell was going on here? Maybe I should contact my doctor. I went towards the living room to pick up my phone from the table. As I was dialing the number I thought “A doctors visit is expensive, maybe I’m just imagining stuff. If it stays like this after a good night sleep I’ll call.”\n\nAfter a good night sleep my alarm went off. I got up and my shirt felt a little tight. I looked at the mattrass, maybe it was just caught behind my sheets but no not at all. I was reminded of the weird tingling in my chest yesterday and was glad that the tingling was gone. I really must have imagined it. I headed to the bathroom to get changed. I passed the mirror and for a quick second I thought I saw something strange. I backtracked and I couldn't believe my own eyes. This was impossible, I was just dreaming. I mean I’ve had dreams like this before so it wasn't that strange. C’mon just wake up and everything will be back to normal. But I didn't wake up.\n\nWas this reality? No no this couldn't be. I glanced down and I no longer could see my feet. This was reality. I had hoped of this happening one day but never did I actually expect it to happen. Overnight I’ve grown breasts. Quickly my hand went down into my shorts. Everything was still normal there. So I didn’t end up as a girl completely just a pair of breasts. But how was this possible. This couldn't be real could it? I pinched them and felt no pain. This was strange, I should feel pain if they are real right? So am I still dreaming? But never was I this aware in a dream ever before. I headed to the living room. I shouldn’t be able to move this freely and deliberately if it was a dream. \n\nI turned on the Tv just as the news was on. “And in recent news the vaccine Alinepro has had some very strange side effects. Many people injected with this new vaccine have been reported to have massive swelling on parts of their body. Anyone with this symptom will have to report to the local hospital for proper treatment.” I was filled with relief and sadness, I had hoped to have grown breasts but it was just unusual swelling. Oh well atleast now I know what to do, I should head to the hospital after a shower.\n\nI went back to the bathroom and checked myself out again in the mirror. Its a damn shame that these aren't real. Cause I look quite good with them. I let the water run so it would be warm enough for me. After a few seconds the water was heated up enough and I jumped under. The warm water running over my body was great, the tiredness left my body.\n\nAs the water was running over my body my chest started feeling strange. As if someone had sent a hundred needles into the swelling. Maybe because I pinched it earlier? I didn't pay much attention until I saw that the water started turning green around my feet. I stepped from under the water and looked at the stream, it looked normal so how could it be green. I looked down to my chest. From the swelling I could see something coming out. Something poked its head out. With it a whole bunch of green slimey goo started seeping from the swelling. What the hell? My head started feeling light. I have to get out, call an ambulance. Before I knew it a sharp pain ran through my body as I saw strange tentacles coming out of the swelling on my chest.\n\nThe tentacles lunged at my head. I could see them going straight for my eyes. As they pierced through I stumbled down on my knees. The pain was unbearable, I could feel myself slipping away. Death was imminent….\n\nCritique and comments are welcome!", "I couldn't believe it. They discovered a cure! The suffering has ravaged us for years. The effects were so great that nations banded together in order to have the best and brightest work on a vaccine. Finally, after years and years one was available to not just the richest and most powerful but to anyone who desired it.\n\nThe news reporters said that they vaccine would be transported to major cities and then make its way out. My town should be receiving its first batch in approximately a week. I couldn't wait.\n\nAs the days counted down I noticed something. People seemed to care less. I couldn't quite explain it. Places that used to be hubs of activity like New York or London had become far more peaceful and quiet. It was almost like people just had nothing left to say. I scoured the internet in hopes that my suspicions were incorrect. I wanted someone to speak out and express themselves but I could't find anything. Until I stumbled upon a conspiracy site. \n\nThese people said that the vaccine didn't prevent the suffering it just made you stop caring. People were in a permanent haze. The drug told their minds that everything was okay and that there was no reason to speak out. No one was saved; they were silenced. \n\nThe vaccine was coming to my town tomorrow. The news was saying that it was mandatory. The government feared that people who did not receive the vaccine could cause a mutation to arise that would endanger everyone. For the world's safety, everyone had to get it. I had to run. I can't risk losing my mind to be falsely protected. Maybe the conspiracy site was wrong but I wasn't taking that chance. \n\nI packed a bag and left in the middle of the night. The site said that colonies were starting to form in the mountains. A rebellion. I couldn't believe it." ]

[ 1, 2 ]

[ "1405111484", "1405114595" ]

[ "In the heart of forensic psychiatric institutions there exist rooms within rooms. These rooms have portholes around the outside, cameras embedded in the walls and padding on the curved walls. In these PICUs (psychiatric intensive care units) they give high dose intramuscular anti psychotics. They then place people in the chambers until the drugs have had an effect, dragging them out and upping the dose again and again until satisfaction is achieved. This was my third time in and out, the drugs were starting to take an effect. \n\n\"They don't believe you do they?\"\n\nOf course not, you know that.\n\n\"I'm sorry I got you into this.\"\n\nI know\n\n\"It had to be tried, I'm sorry\"\n\nAliens trying to take over the world...... trans-dimensional messaging....... have to warn people that their promises of peace are lies.......resist\n\n\n\n\"Your species are different to ours, we assumed you would be believed, we assumed too much\"\n\nI press the call button and the nurse came to the window, this was the fifth day in the tank. \n\n\"I can still hear them, please make it stop\" I sobbed pathetically\n\nShe walked away smiling, the medications were obviously starting to work she thought, he is regaining insight.\n\n\"We will leave you alone now, we have failed and soon the fleet will be there, goodbye John\"\n\nDay seven and the doctors and nurses are patting each other on the back, just the right doses and now the voices are gone. Interesting case they say, isolated psychotic break, very acute, very severe, so detailed and resolving so quickly. They say they are going to publish me as a case study, thank God the voices stopped.", "*Stop!*\n\n\"Gah!\" I jerked myself backwards as the red convertible sped right past me. \"Holy shit that was close. Learn to fucking drive you dumbass!\"\n\nI looked around and noticed everyone staring at me as if I were some crazy grandpa. *Shit it happened again,* I thought to myself. Why do they keep giving those looks?\n\n\"Whoever said that, thanks. You saved my life.\"\n\nMore weird glances and stares were directed at me. A confused look came across this one old lady's face. I approached her and asked, \"ma'am, did you not hear that?\"\n\n\"Hear what? Get the hell away from me you psycho,\" she yelled as she whacked my leg with her walking stick.\n\n\"You didn't hear that? Did anyone else hear it?\" I started to walk up to others with the same question.\n\n\"Hey did you hear that?\"\n\n\"Did you?\"\n\n\"Did you-\" Right as I was about to finish, someone called my name.\n\nI turned around and saw my wife running towards me.\n\n\"Brad! Where have you been all afternoon?\" She had a worried look on her face.\n\n\"I was just taking a walk and then this car almost hit me! And oh, someone screamed at me to stop and saved my life!!\" I replied excitedly.\n\nShe took my hand and pulled me towards her. As I followed along, she turned and apologized to everyone around us.\n\n\"It's okay, my father has the same disease.\" A mid-aged man said. He smiled at me as I walked by. \"Try not to be bothered by those random voices in your head and you'll be just fine.\"\n\n\"Random voices? That voice just saved my life!\"\n\nMy wife hurried me out. Her face was red, and I could tell that I had made a scene.\n\n\"I'm so sorry honey. I really didn't mean-\"\n\n\"It's fine. Just come home and I'll make you some tea.\"", "**She is, though. And you know it.** \n \n\"Yeah, well, thanks for the heads up. Maybe you could have warned me sooner.\" \n \n**Told you as soon as I noticed.** \n \n\"Maybe you've got the attention span of a goldfish swimming in Red Bull, you ever think of that?\" \n \n**That was hurtful, man. That cut deep.** \n \n\"No, it didn't. You have to be deep to get cut deep, clown.\" \n \n**Get out your phone, grab it grab it grab it** \n \nA cough, delicate but definitely faked to draw my attention, did its job from across the aisle. I glanced over, and for the third time today regretted having an entire large box full of random crap in my cubicle - the first and second, of course, being having to clean out said cubicle, and having to find said box. The girl clearing her throat at me was that kind of girl, though. The kind that makes you regret decisions like calling your boss the names she actually deserves (and subsequently losing your job), or setting your box of office debris in the seat next to you on your bus ride home, denying yourself the chance that she might sit there. She was in the aisle seat - no way she'd have been able to fit legs that long into a window seat on this crappy bus, and darn sure not in a skirt that short. I smiled weakly and waggled my phone at her, trying to offer an explanation for talking to \"myself\". Her annoyance began to fade- \n \n**SHIT MUTE MUTE MUTE THE** \n \nThe phone buzzed in my hand, betraying my deception with a miniature klaxon and flashing red light. The annoyance returned, squinting up blue eyes I could have sailed across and sharpening cheekbones that didn't need the help, and she turned away, tucking in an earbud with a dismissive finality. I sighed and hit Answer. \"I'm sorry. Did I forget to sign one of the write-ups? I promise, I don't really care.\" \n \n\"DUDE! Did you really call Mrs. Hallimann a nuclear-powered, weapons-grade c-\" \n \n\"Yes! Yes, please, stop repeating it. I have no idea what came over me-\" \n \n**Ooh, ooh, I know! ME!** \n \n\"-but since it got me fired, I'm not too keen on hearing it repeated ad nauseam, thank you.\" \n \n\"I don't even think I've ever heard you curse, dude. I can't even imagine. Can I buy you a beer? I want to buy the guy who said that to his own COO a beer.\" \n \n**You're going to argue. I can feel it. Don't. It's not like you have work in the morning. Oh- Switch seats with the box. Get in the aisle seat.** \n \n\"... Thanks.\" And there's the fourth time I'm regretting this box - just having it on this crowded bus is awkward enough, but kneeing the back of the seats in front of me just to switch places with it isn't making me any friends. \n \n\"Great, dude! I'll pick you up - guess not buying that new car was a good idea, huh, dude? Anyway. I'll pick you up around 8, okay?\" \n \n**Hey, this is your stop! Screw the box, you don't need that junk. Just grab the keyboard, those mechanical ones in the metal casings are expensive.** \n \nDang, there she goes. Hey, I guess this is as good a stop as any, they're only a block or two apart on this street. \n \n\"Dude? 8?\" \n \n\"Oh, sure. Yeah. 8 is fine.\" Darn, some guy in a trenchcoat, of all things, just stood up behind her. It's June, guy, and you're blocking my view. I was only even getting off here to watch... wait... this isn't even my- \n \n**hit him hit him hit him HIT HIM HIT HIM HIT HIM HITHIMHITHIMHITHIMHITHIM** \n \nThe metal keyboard made a truly disgusting *thwock* as it collided with the back of Trenchcoat's head. His arms splayed out to both sides as he crashed between the seats. Something heavy, flung from his now boneless grip, cracked a window and fell into a little old lady's lap. Miss Blue Eyes spun around - an impressive feat, in those heels - and pierced me with that gaze for a moment before looking down at Trenchcoat. \"Oh, my God. Steve?\" I could have listened to that voice all day, for a change, but the little old lady with the busted window had other plans and, apparently, a missed opportunity as a bipedal tornado siren. \n \n\"GUN! GUN! Oh GOD oh GOD get it off me GUN! GUN!\" The ugly chunk of metal in her lap tumbled to the floor. The one in my hands, now bent in the middle, stared up at me, a trace of blood on one corner. \n \nThe word immediately picked up around the bus. Trenchcoat was packing? What? Wait. Did I just... save the girl? \n \n**Tell her you saw the gun when he stood up, and you had to do something.**\n \nI glanced up from the keyboard to a perfectly stunning view - Miss Blue Eyes, squatted down in the middle of the bus aisle, bent forward looking at Trench- er, 'Steve'. The red bra peeking out from between the buttons of her blouse didn't match her eyes at all, but it darn sure matched the panties her skirt wasn't hiding any more. \"He's unconscious, but he's alive. I didn't even know he was out of prison! Ohmigod, ohmigod.\" She looked up at me. Shock and gratitude fought in her eyes, and I lost. \"I - uh...\" \n \n**Tell her! Shit, say something! Tell her you got up to ask her for her number and then you saw the guy with the gun!** \n \n\"I can't believe it. I think you saved my life! You're amazing! How did you know?\" Even in her condition, her voice was Kryptonite. \"I. I, uh - \" \n \n**Come on! Say anything! Tell her your name! Tell her your life story! Tell her why you're holding a keyboard! Shit, tell her you were trying to imagine her naked and ol' Steve just got in the way, come on-** \n \nThat tears it. \"I am NOT going to tell the prettiest woman I've ever seen that I just cracked some guy's skull for blocking my view of her ass!\" \n \n**...** \n \n\"That was out loud, wasn't it.\" \n \n**Yep.** \n \n\"I'm going to jail, aren't I.\" \n \n**Probably.** \n \n\"I, uh...\" \n \n**I have to carry you everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Repeat after me. I think-** \n \n\"I think-\" \n \n**I'm going-** \n \n\"I'm going-\" \n \n**-into shock.** \n \n\"-into sh-\" \n \nI woke up on my back, with a paramedic pushing air into my mouth through a little plastic mask. He helped me sit up on the stretcher, asking me some questions - what day is it, how many fingers, what's your name. It was a little difficult to pay attention, though, with Miss Blue Eyes walking up behind him. \n \n**Say yes.** \n \nThe paramedic tried to keep my attention, but he'd lost that battle before he even got here. She sounded... sarcastic. \"The prettiest woman you've ever seen, huh?\" \n \nI didn't need help with that one, thanks. \"Yes.\" \n \nShe handed me a Post-it, one that I immediately recognized from the stash of office clutter I'd tried to jettison on the bus, an eon ago. The digits inked on it were a welcome addition, though. \"When they let you out of the hospital, give me a call.\" \n \n**Say-** \n \n\"Yes.\" \n \n**Wait. Shit. Where's the phone?**", "The knock on the door coupled with the sirens outside worried John. John tells Alex to stay calm, because everything will be alright. Alex knows that that's not true, but before he's able to say that to John, the banging on the door grows louder, with more force.\n\n\"Alex, open the door! It's Leighann! I just want to talk to you about something! Please let me in!\" she yelled. The voice didn't sound like Leighann. It had the tone of her voice, but it didn't sound as pleasant, nor was it as inviting.\n\n\"Coming, sister,\" Alex lied. He took another peek outside of his window, and John told him to brace himself. The banging on the door became frantic. Suddenly, the door slammed open. Alex lay on his bed, curled up into a ball. This wasn't his fault. Everyone told him it was, but he knew that it wasn't. Leighann knew it wasn't either, but she wasn't going to stand up. She had always been the weaker of the two. A woman who obviously wasn't Leighann stepped through the door, along with two SWAT team members. He remained motionless on his bed, still curled up, while the SWAT members proceeded to pick him up and carry him out of his apartment. The last he ever saw of his apartment was the SWAT team carry all of his belongings out of it, one by one, as his heart slowly died with them.\n\nHe was taken to a humongous penitentiary-like building on the outskirts of the town where he lived. He had always been somewhat curious about the giant building right near his apartment, but had never taken much notice to it. *It's one hell of a coincidence,* he always though to himself to ease the thought that it might be there for a reason. Once taken inside, he was walked through a hallway of inmates, screaming for help. They looked like they were suffering from the same thing he was: voices in their head telling them things that had really happened. One cried \"I knew 9/11! I KNEW IT!\" while one sat criss-cross, leaning from side to side, droning monotonously \"I didn't do it, I didn't do it, it wasn't me, I didn't do it...\"\n\nHe was quickly escorted to a cell which was seemingly larger than any of the others. A man stood, facing him, with a condescending grin and piercing green eyes, resembling a tiger ready for the kill. *Is it really him?* Alex wondered. \"Hello, Alex.\" *It is him. It's John.*\n\n\"Now, Alex, tell me about yourself,\" John said. Alex kept his stoic facial expression, and didn't respond. The tension in the room grew with each second that Alex didn't speak, and without warning the SWAT members standing beside the man pointed their guns at Alex, as if forcing him to speak.\n\n\"My name is Alex Markensen. I am 34 years old. I worked at and ran a bakery in Hell's Kitchen for three years until I moved, and began living in my apartment in Minneapolis. My parents' names are Eva and Dennis Markensen. My sister, Leighann, is 5 years younger than me. She began law school when she was 24. I have not seen her since.\"\n\n\"Funny that you say that, Alex, because our files here,\" he took out a manila folder, with official-looking documents inside of it, \"indicate that your sister is only 12, and that your parents' names are Erin and Keith.\"\n\nAlex changed his attitude for a moment. \"You're lying to me, and I know it,\" he replied with certainty.\n\nThe man handed him three papers, which were all documents containing profiles of each of the three family members he had mentioned. They all seemingly proved that what the man said was correct. Alex stared down at his feet, not wanting to show that the man had gotten to him.\n\n\"Now, Alex, we've been hearing from various people that were close to you that you've been hearing a voice in your head, and that he claims his name to be John.\"\n\n\"That's correct,\" Alex droned, still staring down at his feet.\n\n\"Well, we've gotten several accounts from other patients saying similar things have been happening to them, and according to them, they also heard a voice named 'John'. Do you know why this might be?\"\n\n\"No, why would I?\"\n\nThe guards next to the man pointed their guns towards him.\n\n\"I think you do,\" the man replied, cracking his fingers.\n\n\"Are you accusing me for what's been happening? Listen, I have no clue how John has any knowledge of the events that have been occurring! I just hear him, and he tells me that they're going to happen. If I had done it, why would I save all of those people? I mean--\"\n\n\"Like the bombing in Beijing?\"\n\n\"But he--\"\n\n\"And the sarin attack at LaGuardia?\"\n\n\"But--\"\n\n\"Not to mention the nuclear bombing in San Francisco...\"\n\nAlex finally stared up, tears in his eyes.\n\n\"I didn't ask for any of this to happen!\" he yelled. \"All I wanted was some peace and quiet after the divorce, but all of a sudden I started hearing voices! I just assumed it was some acute form of PTSD, until the incidents started to happen and I heard about them all before they occurred! And they were in your voice!\"\n\n\"Well, since I am the president of the United States, you may have heard my voice on television, and associate--\"\n\n\"But it was you! It didn't sound like how you speak during speeches, it sounded like how you're talking right now! And I could hear it like there was a speaker in my ear, not how schizophrenic people would hear it! I swear!\"\n\nThe facetious grin faded from the man's face, and he snapped his fingers. A hologram of a young girl showed up.\n\n\"Please, Alex, you have to help!\" the girl shouted. \"They're making me y--\" Before she could continue, she was cut off by a SWAT team member putting his hand over her mouth and abruptly silencing her as she attempted to scream through the hand.\n\nThe man snapped again, and the hologram disappeared.\n\n\"That was Leighann. But she was younger...you--you changed her! **You** did this!\"\n\n\"She has always looked like this, Alex. And if you don't confess, I'm afraid you won't ever be able to see her face again.\" The rifles were pointed closer towards Alex. He hesitated. He was about to shout for help, but realized that this was a government monitored building, and nobody who was outside of bars in their right mind would respond. He continued to stare, plain-faced, at the man, and no matter how close the guns got, he remained the same. The man finally shouted \"That's it, take him to the ECR with his sister!\" \n\nHe was taken into a gigantic room, about the size of an entire house, which only held two chairs. Two *electric* chairs. Alex would have done something, but he was unable to move in the straitjacket. In one electric chair sat Leighann, sobbing, with the glove still placed over her mouth. She was not the Leighann that he knew: she was only twelve years old. Maybe he had been imagining everything, and his life was a lie. *Only more of a reason to let myself die,* he thought. He jumped towards her, only realizing afterwards that he could do nothing to save her. They placed him in his chair, and he spat in the guard's face. The guard simply wiped it off and walked away. The man was nowhere to be seen, but there was a one-way window parallel to him and Leighann. Alex heard John again all of a sudden, whispering \"You're screwed. You have nothing and no one to help you. No one likes you anyway.\" It was the man who had talked to him in the other room's voice, he was sure of it. It had always been his voice...right? He had no time to ponder this thought, because he was too distracted by the combination of his sister's muffled screams and the guard's attempts to shut her up. Eventually, he heard a noise that sounded like something powering up. He knew that it was starting. But oddly enough, it stopped. And he heard a gunshot noise behind the one-way window. And for some reason, right when he heard it, the man holding Leighann's mouth collapsed. He saw an electric flickering from his head, and there was a hole right near, just about big enough for a pistol bullet.\n\nThe ropes holding Leighann and Alex down loosened somehow, and Leighann ran towards Alex, hugging him. \"Oh god, Alex, they're making me younger!\" she cried, \"I don't know how to stop it!\"\n\n\"They lied to me. I knew it.\"\n\n\"We need to get out of here,\" Leighann exclaimed, who, now that Alex noticed it, looked like she was getting younger by the second. Alex picked up the rifle and shot down the window.\n\n\"Let's go--\" before Alex could finish, a bullet went straight through his head. Leighann whimpered, and went into the corner. Standing in the room behind the window were John, holding a magnum, and a few other people who looked like co-workers of his. She shouted for him to not kill her, and he put the gun down. \"Go now.\" he muttered. She ran, but he took her for a second and injected her with a needle full of an orange substance. She suddenly grew back to her normal height, and appeared her actual age again. She ran away, faster than she ever had.\n\n\"John, why did you postpone the project? And-and why did you kill him?\" one of the men standing next to the man asked him.\n\n\"He wasn't the one we were looking for. He was too believable. As for why I killed him: it would have become anarchy if our project was leaked. And don't refer to me as John. You are not my equal.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. President.\"\n\n\"Looks like we'll have to find a new scapegoat. Poor guy. He knew it was me talking, but nobody believed him. Shame,\" He claimed sarcastically.\n\nJohn tapped into the microphone.\n\n\"Hello? Can you hear me?\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" a woman replied. \"Am I hearing things?\"\n\n(Sorry that it was so long, if you read the entire thing then bravo)\n\n" ]

[ 2, 3, 5, 7 ]

[ "1405124356", "1405115780", "1405123450", "1405118694" ]

[ "\"I have been doing experiments for the CIA on my son since he was 2, AMA\"-JHunter11\n\nHey look, a guy with a similar username as me. This seems interesting. I clicked on it and read the details.\n\n\"So, it's true. I am a terrible father. My son was 2 when he started. He escaped at 18, although I'm not sure he remembers. The drugs we put him on had a side effect of giving him amnesia if his powers became too powerful. And he had a rage attack when he escaped. So amnesia may have taken his body.\n\nHe has a form of telekinesis as well as a power known as \"soul sucker\". It essentially takes a charge and then he can throw the ball of energy and *poof* the thing he threw the ball at is gone. \n\nEdit: Proof- [http://i.imgur.com/r956fmQ.gif](http://i.imgur.com/r956fmQ.gif)\" \n\n(just a little joke for you guys, not part of the story)\n\nHuh, that picture looks remarkably like my baby picture. I went to go grab my baby scrapbook. I compared faces, he was identical. Right down to the birthmark. Oh my god, I can't believe this. I sent him a PM.\n\n\"Josh, is that you?\" A message I received an hour later.\n\n\"Yes, I think you're my dad. Where have you been?\" I responded.\n\n\"Well, looking for you. You disappear constantly and the CIA hasn't told me jack. I think they know your whereabouts.\" He replied.\n\n\"Well, I don't think you should care about that. I just wanted you to know I'm safe. I think I can support myself.\" I replied.\n\n\"But, I need to see you. You don't understand, I'll lose you again if you don't let me see you. I might actually have a cure for the amnesia.\" He replied.\n\n\"Huh, maybe... drop by for a visit. I live in (insert any random address here) 4th floor apartment #9.\" I replied.\n\nThe door was kicked down. I turned and 5 guns were pointed at me. A man talked into a walkie-talkie, \"We got him sir, awaiting orders.\" \n\n\"Hold up, you have the wrong guy.\" I pleaded.\n\n\"No, he's lying. On his computer he's talking to his father.\" A man in black said behind me.\n\n\"That's a lie. That guy is crazy.\" I said.\n\n\"You're done kid. We're taking you into government custody.\" The man said.\n\n\"No you're not!\" I screamed. Suddenly they were floating in the air, pinned against the roof. I waved my hand and purple energy started forming. I charged it up and threw it at the man in black. He disappeared. I smirked, and made all the men disappear. I took my phone, wallet, and a hat and left. As I walked out, it seemed like every gun in the world was pointed at me. I then blacked out.\n\n*A week later*\n\nI woke up suddenly and in a daze. I looked around. I was in the woods. Huh, never remembered going here. In fact, what the hell is my name? What's going on? I rummaged through my pocket and found a wallet and a phone. The wallet had an I.D that said Josh Hunter. I guess that's who I am.\n\n\"Hey there boy, are you lost?\" A man asked. He was grizzly, and seemed friendly enough.\n\n\"Yeah, can you help me out? I don't know what's happening right now.\" I said.\n\n\"Yeah son, sure. I can help you out.\" He said with a smile on his face. \"Follow me, I'll take you to my cabin.\" He continued.\n\nHe turned around, the back of his jacket had some sort of logo. It was like an eagle behind some podium with some star on it. Central Intelligence Agency? Sounds familiar. Eh, it's probably nothing.", "\"You guys aren't going to believe this!\" I said to my friends without any beating around the bush.\n\n\"What is it this time?\" Jamie rolled his eyes. \"What'd you find?\"\n\n\"Ok, so you know how I go on Reddit all the time?\" I began, itching to blurt it out but not wanting to ruin the story.\n\n\"Yea, of course. You're either on Reddit or talking about it,\" Riley sighed.\n\n\"Well apparently my dad is too! I saw a post making a confession about CIA testing. The guy who posted it said he tested the new chemicals on his daughter!\" I could tell my friends didn't believe me.\n\n\"How do you know this is your dad, and how do you know this guy on Reddit isn't lying?\" Jamie questioned patronisingly.\n\n\"I know it's my dad because the username is what he always uses. And dad's always been vague about what he does at work.\" I explained.\n\n\"But that doesn't prove anything!\" Riley tried to convince me.\n\n\"Ahh, but this might. And I quote from my dad's post: 'I developed the chemical, but couldn't risk testing it on actual agents, what if the side effects were catastrophic when they were in the field? I'm not proud to say that I used my daughter. I started preparing more meals for her at home over the past year. I was able to put the chemical into her food and watch what happened. It worked! She was able to find the smallest things, but unfortunately her eyesight began to deteriorate.'\" I looked up to my friends to see that they were both staring at me, open mouthed. \n\n\"You started needing glasses about a year ago,\" Jamie noted in shock.\n\n\"And before then you didn't have your 'superpower',\" Riley added.\n\n\"Yea, I know! I told you my ability to find tiny objects no one else could was a superpower! But it gets even better. Remember how I needed new glasses every month for, like, 3 months?\" I paused waiting for them to nod, when they did I continued. \"'I had to alter the formula and give her another dosage. With each dosage, her eyesight was affected negatively less and less. After 4 formulas, I finally found one that had no negative impact.'\"\n\nRiley let out a low whistle while Jamie looked around too shocked to say anything. \n\n\"I told you! He even mentioned the time I found that screw from his glasses on the carpet in the living room once.\" I finished with the most damming fact of all. The one that proves it must be my dad. \n\n\"So now we know your dad works for the CIA! Awesome! Your dad rocks!\" Jamie said excitedly.\n\nTypical for me, I end up with the superpower even my friends don't think is cool: being able find very small items.\n\n***\nI did not know then that years later that power would save my life on many occasions. Being able to notice the smallest things that others cannot has proved most useful in my career at my dad's old office." ]

[ 3, 6 ]

[ "1405235448", "1405229414" ]

[ "Frank fell softly into an endless spectrum of geometric patterns full of colors he had never seen before. Layer by layer, his humanity was stripped away as the dormant traces of DMT in his brain were activated. He had already forgotten how he got here, he knew was dying or already dead but he couldn't remember even being human. Slowly the visions faded into dull colors, then to grey, then darker and darker. Finally a spectrum of nothingness took hold.\n\nThen, like being awoken from a dream he felt someone grab his hand. An outstretched skeletal hand wrapped in a purple robe sleeve gripped his hand and pulled him from the nothingness. A voice echoed in the darkness of Frank's mind \"Go forth and avenge the innocent, help your fellow man...\"\n\nSuddenly there was an infinite level of pain surging through his body as his eyes began to see again. His ears began to function and were immediately bombarded with the rapid pops of gunfire and what sounded like fireworks. The world blurred at first but then came into focus, they weren't fireworks, they were bombs. Gunfire and bombs, \n\n\"Frrrrraaannkkk! Move your fucking ass!\" A familiar voice erupted in the distance. Still delirious, Frank realized he was on his back looking up at the sky. He felt wet, then he realized he was on a beach.\n\n\"No time for a tan, big guy, let's go kill some fucking krauts!\"\n\n A soldier in an American uniform yanked him up from his prone position and shoved a rifle back into Frank's hands. Instinctively, Frank gripped his gun and ran toward the gunfire. \n\nAfter the victory at Normandy, Frank learned he had been hit from the blast of a landmine. The doctors offered no real explanation as to how he survived with so much shrapnel planted in his body. His purple heart would always remind him of the hand in the purple sleeve that pulled him from oblivion.", "Panic, as I am thrown into wakefulness by the shrieking fire alarm in my apartment. I leap out of bed and feel the door to make sure the fire isn't in my living room. *Cool.* I open with the door with violently shaking hands and run to my front door. *Hot.* The fire is in the hallway.\n\nThe heat of fire hasn't even reached my yet, and I am sweating more than I ever remember sweating before. I turn back around; there is a fire escape out my bedroom window. I run back into my bedroom.\n\nNo! The bed is on fire! This is impossible! I turn around once more, trip and fall onto the floor. My heart is beating too quickly for me to see. There is another fire escape outside my living room, but it is old and I don't trust it. I stumble to my feet and try to get to the window through the haze which is only half made of smoke.\n\nI'm almost to the window.\n\n*Falling.*\n\nThe building is collapsing. And I live on floor 96.\n\nAs I accelerate, my view alternates between rubble and smoke, and the street rushing up to meet me. I begin to cry, but tears are precious little help against the flames and the drop.\n\n\"I don't want to die!\" I yell, as loudly and desperately as I can.\n\n*Darkness.*\n\nI am lying on my face. I look up around me, but all is dark.\n\nI hear a voice.\n\n\"I am Death,\" it said, deeply, slowly, irresistibly. \"Immortal, inexorable. Look at me!\"\n\nI roll onto my back, but still I can see nothing.\n\nA phantom spot blacker than the black surrounding me materializes above me. A hood, underneath which no face is visible.\n\n\"Did you mean what you said?\"\n\nI don't remember saying anything. \"What?\" I manage to ask.\n\n\"You said you didn't want to die.\" At the word *die*, a shiver ran through the darkness. \"Did you mean that?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said. \"I don't want to die.\"\n\n\"Then you don't have to. Say the word, and you will not die.\"\n\n\"I-\"\n\n\"Be very sure. Be very, very sure. You cannot change your mind.\"\n\nI thought for what seemed to be eternity, but no reason to die entered my head. \"I am sure. I don't want to die.\"\n\n\"Then I will let you live.\" Out of the darkness, a hand appeared in front of me, open in offer to be shaken. It was skeletal. \"Deal?\"\n\n\"Deal,\" I said, and took the hand. It pulled me upward, and suddenly I was standing in the street, alive and unharmed. The apartment building was gone from the skyline, collapsed and destroyed. But I am alive.\n\n*Sixty years pass.*\n\nI am 97 years old. Incredible, unbelievable things have happened to me. I was in a horrific car accident, in which I broke 18 bones and lost two-thirds of my blood, but I did not die. I fell into a lake and was under the water for almost three hours, but I did not die. When I was 68, I had a heart attack and didn't reach the hospital till the next day, but I did not die. At this moment, I have cancer which began in my liver and has spread to almost every organ in my body, but I have not died. The last 19 years I have spent in this bed, unable to walk or move around, and I have known only one thing: pain.\n\nI have not died, but I want to.\n\nThrough some miracle I managed to get a gun into my bed, and I am about to shoot myself in the head. \"I just want to die,\" I say.\n\n*Darkness.*\n\n\"I am Death,\" says a voice, unmistakable, although it is years since I heard it. \"Immortal, inexorable. You wish to die?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I say. \"My life is pain, and I wish to end it.\"\n\n\"That is unfortunate for you,\" says the voice. \"We have a deal.\"\n\nI put the gun to my temple. \"Too bad,\" I say.\n\nI pull the trigger.\n\nA loud explosion. Extreme pain. Blood, blood everywhere.\n\nAnd yet, I am not dead.\n\nPanic fills me, and I shoot again. More pain, more blood, and still I am not dead.\n\nFrantic, I empty the entire clip into my head, causing such infinite pain as I could never have imagined possible. I can barely see through the blood spurting out through the dozens of holes in my head.\n\nAnd still, I am not dead.\n\n\"At last you begin to understand,\" says the voice. \"You told me you did not wish to die, and I granted you wish.\"\n\nI begin to cry.\n\n\"Death is not the true curse of mortality, and so you should not wish against it. When an immortal being such as myself is destroyed, it vanishes from existence and all is over. But mortal beings are not so fortunate. You are dragged slowly, torturously, and yet inevitably, from your youth and your health, through old age, through pain and suffering. You are forced to sit and watch as your body, the only thing you have, turns against you. You stand in horror as you are abandoned by the beauty and the beauty that are so fleeting, and you are powerless against the progression of time. One by one, you lose what physical abilities you have, as your life turns slowly and completely into pain and misery, and the flesh itself begins to rot off your bones. This is the true curse of mortality, to watch your life desert you slowly, deaf to your screams of agony. You are trapped there forever.\"\n\nThrough the blood and the terror, I see the ghost of a face appear directly in front of me.\n\n\"We had a deal.\"", "[Disclaimer 1: I used Discworld's Death, and the story contains some ASOIAF / GoT spoilers]\n\n[Disclaimer 2: Half way through I realised I wasn't writing it as if it were about me, I hope that's ok!]\n\n----------------------\n\nI DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS, muttered Death to himself. THERE ARE CLEARLY WORDS THAT RHYME WITH \"SILVER\".\n\nIn his search for the understanding of life, he was at a point where he had decided to give writing poetry a try. He was as talented at it as a person volunteering to be the one to take a group photo was photogenic, but was giving it an honest attempt. Then a mental \"ping!\" interrupted him. \n\nOH NO, NOT AGAIN.\n\nIt was a contingency alarm he had set up. He promptly laid down his quill.\n\nIn the next moment, he was standing in his study, looking into the Special Attention cabinet. One of the hourglasses was almost all out of time. Shaking his head, he picked it up, adjusted his hood and vanished.\n\nIt was getting dark and the winter cold was baring its teeth. On a narrow road off the map, a man was trying to start his car. Unsuccessful again, he punched the dashboard. The cold made the pain worse. He winced. \n\nIt took him a few moments to notice the snow had stopped falling. Mid-air.\n\nHELLO, GEORGE.\n\nThe man gulped. There was now a passenger next to him.\n\n\"Umm... Hi,\" he said, not daring to turn his head. Fear crept in.\n\nYOU HAVE BEEN CARELESS AGAIN.\n\nInstead of a reply, another gulp.\n\nI SUPPOSE YOU WANT TO BE ALLOWED TO STAY.\n\n\"Yes, please,\" a shaky voice answered.\n\nYOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.\n\nSomething between a shudder and a nod was produced.\n\nI WISH YOU'D STOP DOING THIS. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TRAVEL SO MUCH? COULDN'T YOU STAY AT HOME?\n\n\"Well, travelling helps me clear my head... I need to get away from home... No one spends this much time with his work.\"\n\nYOU HAVE NOT WRITTEN A PAGE IN TWO MONTHS.\n\n\"Well, I've been on a tour... All my work is at home.\"\n\nTHEY MADE LAPTOPS, YOU KNOW.\n\n\"But my work environment is my study,\" he pleaded. \"I can't work elsewhere. Too many distractions.\"\n\nDISTRACTIONS. YES. I CERTAINLY WOULDN'T WANT YOUR ROUTINE INTERRUPTED WITH UNEXPECTED EVENTS. PARTICULARLY NOT BY ANYTHING INVOLVING ME MAKING AN APPEARANCE.\n\n\"'nk you,\" was all the man could manage.\n\nYOU ARE LUCKY I WANT TO KNOW HOW THE SERIES ENDS.\n\nDeath considered a conundrum.\n\nWHY DO THEY SAY THERE ARE NO WORDS THAT RHYME WITH \"SILVER\"? WHAT ABOUT \"SLIVER\" AND \"LIVER\"?\n\n\"Wha...?\" The man barely stopped himself from turning his head. \"I don't know.\"\n\nOH WELL. LET US RETURN TO THE MATTER AT HAND. BRING FORTH A BOOK OF YOURS. \n\nThe man sighed with significant relief. He opened the glove compartment, careful not to graze the black robe of Death, and produced a hefty tome. In turn, Death produced a tiny scythe, no bigger than a pen, and an hourglass. He placed the hourglass on the book.\n\nI AM NOT FOND OF STANNIS.\n\n\"Stannis? No, I need Stannis, he is supposed to--\"\n\nI REALLY DON'T LIKE STANNIS.\n\nThe man considered his odds.\n\n\"OK, I'll see what I can do about it, but the deal was that I choose.\"\n\nIT WAS. AND THEN YOU CHOSE NED. \n\nDeath's remarks had the tendency to create a silence that was palpable. \n\n\"It advanced the sto--\" the man tried.\n\nI REALLY LIKED THE NED.\n\nAnother silence you could slice up and sell in boxes.\n\n\"OK, I made my mind. I'm thinking of the character now.\"\n\nIT BETTER NOT BE ANOTHER STARK.\n\nThe man winced.\n\n\"Let's get it over with, please.\"\n\nVERY WELL.\n\nDeath took the miniature scythe in his fingers, gave it an experimental swoosh, and tapped the book lightly. The sand in the hourglass began to flow up.\n\nI HOPE THE NEXT TIME WILL BE THE LAST TIME.\n\n\"Yes... Me too.\"\n\nAnd just so, Death was gone. \n\nSnow resumed falling. The man wiped the cold sweat from his brow. The car started and got him back to safety.\n\nedit: typo", "I take a deep breath and try to mentally prepare myself as my hands grip the railing of the bridge. My head is spinning from being up so high and I can feel the fear welling up in my veins. I hold my breath and look down at the water. The wind is bone chilling and I try to imagine how frigid the water will be. “I jump on three” I decide aloud. I look around the bridge and there is no one coming from either way. “Alright, 1, 2, 3” I count trying to force my hands to let go of the railing. I can feel the wind pushing at my back and realize that it’s starting to rain. I slide my foot along the ledge of the bridge and can feel how slippery it is. As I continue to try to convince myself to let go, the wind intensifies.\n\n I restart my countdown but before I even get to two, a huge gust of wind sends me flying into the air and then down towards the frigid water. I scream as I fall to my death and I scream louder when I feel the temperature of the water. I am pulled under and as I try to swim to the surface, waves push me further down. I gasp for breath and water fills my lungs, as I wrestle the water I feel hands grabbing mine. They pull me up to the surface quickly and with ease like a life jacket. I breathe as much oxygen in as I can before I bob back down. I flail my hands but continue to descend to the ocean floor. I stop flailing my arms as I run out of air; I open my eyes and see something that looks like a shark swimming towards me. As it gets closer, I can see that it has arms and then it grabs me. It brings me back up to the surface in a flash and pulls me above the water. My feet barely touch the water as I soar above it. The wind stings my face and I look up to see how I am suddenly capable of flying. The black shark is gliding through the air but it better resembles a bird now with majestic wings. It has red laser eyes and is focusing on the path ahead. As we get closer to the land, he ascends higher into the sky and then drops me without warning. I make a hard landing onto the beach and feel pain shoot through my arm. I open my eyes and sit up slowly to see a lion with black fur circling me like as if I were a gazelle. It roars and lunges at me ferociously. I flinch but we don’t collide.\n\n When I open my eyes, there is a man sitting next to me with a pale face, black hair, and red eyes. He is dressed in a black button up shirt and dress pants. Although I am drenched in water and sand, he looks perfectly neat. He stays silent as I grip my arm in pain. He grabs it gently and feels it, “it’s broken” he says quickly and without emotion. I try to wipe some sand off my arms but end up making it worse, “Who are you?” I say weakly feeling faint. He smiles and says “Death” he holds out his hand for a handshake. Although it is a strange meeting, I shake his hand and ask, “Why did you save me?” He takes a deep breath and stares out at the ocean, “Why were you jumping off a bridge?” he asks in an amused tone. I stay silent unsure I want to answer his question. He chuckles and then answers my original question, “I was bored.” I nod and rub my eyes; wouldn’t it have been easier to let me die? He watches me shiver and grabs my hand. He has warmth emanating from him. “Try to breathe normally and maybe you won’t go into cardiac arrest” he says as he lies down onto the sand. He pulls the back of my shirt so I lay down next to him. \n\nHe looks into my eyes with a curious expression on his face and frowns, “Can we talk for a second or are you dying?” he asks. I smile at his lack of sympathy, “Talk away” I answer. “I’m bored with my job as Death bringer. From now on, we are going to be best friends. I’m going to save you whenever you’re about to die and we’ll be friends forever. This isn’t your choice and you can’t tell anyone unless you want to be locked up” he explains. Although I’m confused as to why Death would want a friend and why he would want me, I smile and nod. I wasn’t alone anymore; I had a friend who actually cared if I was living or dead. \n\n“So can you change into any animal?” I ask looking at the many stars. He chuckles and nods. “What does a dodo look like?” I ask. He laughs and transforms before my eyes. After a second of clowning around, he transforms back into his regular winged human self. “Do you want to go for another flight?” he asks. I grab his hand and reply, “I thought you’d never ask.”\n", "Having no other options, I finally felt the relief of my last breath.\n\nI had waited long for this accident, an excuse to relieve the world of 'the disease', which I had nicknamed myself. \n\nThe intense sense of peace that I had heard flushed over near-death victims kicked in, lasting what felt like an entire second lifetime. Suddenly all my errors and mistakes were forgiven by the one person who never forgave them: Me. \n\nThat was when I heard a voice I had only heard a few times, a boys voice. Though I do not remember opening my eyes, I saw a figure step out of a white nothingness. The figure was quite small, but walked like an adult: \"You really should try and grow up, I did!\" The figure now came into full view, and I instantly recognized the facial features, having seen them in a home video my parents had made long ago. The little boy was me.\n\nI was unable to speak, and the boy seemed to be completely aware of this: \"When I started all of this, there was suppose to be a development. That was actually my goal: To observe the development. I guess I halted it too much, not considering the thought of 'strength through misery' to be of much importance. I really thought you'd figure that out yourself? Anyway, I can't let this happen now, it is all far too in, and I need you to stay focused on this life! You won't remember me, when I go away again, but you should remember the most important things I will tell you now: Remember your mistakes as experience! They really are nothing more... All those times you considered yourself worthless and idiotic, your were really stepping miles ahead of those who had yet to realize this. Nothing has to be said out loud, you really just have to let your nature of reflexes and intuition develop, instead of halting them with all of those goddamn shitty thoughts!\"\n\nThe boy turned around and started walking back. I noticed there was no sole or bottom on his brown childish leather shoes, and he was wearing no socks underneath. My thoughts were racing, but it seemed hard to focus and concentrate, still having the complete sense of peace. It was as if my body told me: It's alright, it doesn't matter, nothing does!\" and \"Everything is really really good!\" The last word was what woke me up, as I rarely ever used that word.\n\n\nI woke up in a comfortable bed to the beeping sound of hospital machinery. Next to me sat a nurse, who quickly got up and started talking to me. I didn't understand a word of what she said, everything sounded like gurgling and ticking sounds of familiar letters and expressions. The weird sensation of understanding myself, audio less thoughts, while not understanding others, made my spine shiver. I did not expect this shiver, but as it came, my body suddenly came back to life. The first sensation was like my body was made of lead, and what followed, was a wave of pain from different parts, as if my body was being beaten by the soft hands of the nurse. When the feeling finally reached my head, I let out a load scream, before once again feeling a relief, close to the one I vaguely remembered after the accident (also the last thing I remembered at all). The last thing I noticed was the nurse injecting the last of the morphine into my arm, before I feel asleep again.\n\nI dreamt about shoes, walking along the street on their own, with no one to carry them. The seemed to float above ground, and I could sense a sort of wave coming from each, that reached towards the sky. I looked up at an intense blue and white checkered sky, leading my thought to some sort of mechanical world. I walked along this unfamiliar street, before I reached a bright-lit store window, displaying socks in all sorts of shapes and colors. Some had 3 toes, some had a long neck ending in a strange forward bend, and some pedestals were simply empty. In the store window a completely white and bright being walking towards the window, browsing the different kinds of socks, before it looked up. Though there were no eyes, I could still feel an intense gaze, piercing though my skin, reaching my very core. The figure quickly withdrew its hand, before it seemed to grab the display window. As it pulled the window towards it, like a carpet painted to resemble the very reality of this place, everything around was pulled towards the creature in a wave-like motion. Like a flashlights beam in the dark, all of reality was pulled towards this bright and shiny hand, leaving darkness behind and around me.\n\nWhen the last of the light disappeared, I woke up again..." ]

[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 2 ]

[ "1405284432", "1405290194", "1405290790", "1405293130", "1405278233" ]

[ "Johnny looks at Sadie’s lifeless body in his arms. He flags down a boat and puts her body on. He would’ve tread water for a little while more but it had already been 3 hours. He thought he fell the wrong way so he decided to tread water until he ran out of energy and eventually drowned. Unfortunately after all this time, he still was full of energy and was deadly bored. \n\nJohnny cries as he lies to the sailors and says that when she jumped, he tried to save her. He says the current was so strong that it took him this long to flag down a boat. After they get back to shore and call and ambulance, Johnny sits on a bench deliberating what he would tell her parents. He couldn’t bear that responsibility; he decides to follow through on the pact. \n\nHe makes a quick stop at the hardware store before home. When he arrives, he makes himself a poison Pina Colada and watches an episode of The Price is Right. Three episodes later, he realizes that it didn’t work so he adds more poison to his drink. After another few episodes, he drinks out of the gallon wondering why he was so bad at completing the pact. He decides that it was a faulty gallon and grabs a kitchen knife. He takes a bath and tries to slit his wrists but the knife appears to be too dull. He gets out of the tub and grabs a few more to try but they all seem to be too dull. Johnny groans, he never had this much trouble with cutting steak. \n\nHe decides that slitting his wrist is not the correct route to take and resolves to hanging himself. The first time he tries the rope breaks and so he decides to use Sadie’s rock climbing gear to assist. Although the rope doesn’t break, he realizes something is wrong when he is still hanging conscious after two hours. He fiddles with the rope but is unable to get himself down. He swings his legs but is still stuck. After a few hours he hears the door knob jiggling. He yells, “Come in!” and his older brother walks through the door. After an initial look of shock, his brother cuts him down and lectures him for a solid twenty minutes. “I told you, I was meditating! I wasn’t hanging myself idiot!” Johnny yells at his brother trying to hide his embarrassment. His brother Dannie sighs and says, “Why don’t you stay at my place for the night? Just so you don’t get lonely here?” Johnny agrees in order to quell suspicions that he was suicidal; he didn’t want to end up in the mental hospital. \n\nHe lies on Dannie’s couch watching Jeopardy and tries to fall asleep. He hears footsteps around him and looks up, Dannie is right in front of him. Johnny jumps back, “What the heck is your problem? Go away!” he yells. Dannie shakes his head, “I was checking to ensure you were still breathing.” Johnny rolls his eyes, “Wait Dannie! Before you go, can I ask you a question?” he asks. Dannie sits down on the couch, “Duh, just ask it!” Johnny takes a deep breath, “Have you ever survived any accidents?” he asks trying to avoid eye contact. Dannie smiles, “You mean that you can’t die?” Johnny jumps up from the couch, “You can’t either?!?” he shouts in excitement. Dannie laughs, “I can! You can’t! I’m just a normal human. You’re adopted.” Johnny looks at his older brother trying to tell if he is joking, “Am I really adopted?” He asks in disbelief. “Yep, mom and dad didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t think it’s that big a deal so I’m telling you” Dannie answers. Johnny puts his head in his hands, “What the heck does that even mean? Adopted people still die.” Dannie laughs and explains, “Not if you’re Death’s kid. You’re permanently immortal. Someday you’ll probably become the grim reaper but I wouldn’t worry about that for now.” Johnnie looks at his brother waiting for the punch line but Dannie was already watching the television. His girlfriend had killed herself, he had failed at killing himself, and he found out he was adopted; this was just a horrible day. \n", "The lift of the legs off the banister and i'm already pulling my knife, and i'm already stabbing him, and he's being stabbed, and he looks at me not with pain but with PAIN--you know what I mean--that surprised look like i just told him i was cheating on him, which i was, which is why i convinced this whole thing to happen, but i figured stabbing him on the way down would soothe that special dark nightmare i nurture every few weeks. but there is not even any blood, just a clean blade on the exit that glints in the sun and i know now why he is what he is, why he does what he does: boring, courageous, heroic almost, boring. when the water splashes and i smack my head on the rocks he will know greater pain, greater pain and greater pain as the years melt and melt and melt.", "Today is the day.. today is the day that we will die. This all started 3 days ago when we made that pact, the pact that we'll be together forever. We've been going through some hard times now and well, this just seems like the right thing to do. The morning just seems so bare, so normal. Will this really be how my life ends? Just as another normal day? I got up out of bed and went to go brush my teeth, just as I got up she wakes up to tell me that she loves me, I just turn towards the restroom and keep walking. I brush my teeth and walk to the kitchen to see her there, pouring herself some coffee. As I walk closer I seem to notice her crying, she's crying her eyes out. She looks at me and says \"I love you so much, although i'm scared i'm just glad i'm doing this with you baby.\", I look at her and smile, \"Don't worry, i'll always be with you.\" This morning didn't seem so normal anymore, I started to get nervous. I took out the suicide letters we composed the night before and lay them there on the table in the living room. As I do that I start to have second thoughts, is this really a good idea? She comes out and notices me staring at the notes, \"Honey, are you okay?\", I look at her and give her a reassuring look, \"Just dandy.\". We were dressed up pretty nice today, she wore a beautiful black dress, something she'd wear on a date. I wore a nice suit and tie, something I never wear.. but I guess we just wanted to be dressed for the occasion, saying our final farewell to the entity we call life.\n\n\nWe prepared ourselves for the worst, well I guess we did want the worst to happen in the first place. We hopped into our car and started the long drive to the Golden Gate Bridge. The drive was quiet.. almost silent throughout the first 20 minutes. I finally hear something from her, \"How do you feel about this?\". I really didn't know how to answer, I really thought that this was the path to go, but on the road I can't help but think that it's a bad decision. Well, it doesn't matter what I think, I just want her to be happy. I look at her and smile \"I'm perfectly fine with it as long as I get to spend the rest of my life with you.\". The rest of the drive was silent, we just let the radio play and the wind roar. \nWe finally get near the Golden Gate Bridge, there doesn't seem to be a parking spot within the area. I drive down the small street nearby to try to find a parking spot. I hear her say \"Honey? This, this is my dream house.\" She points to the medium sized yellow house. \"Really now? Wouldn't you like to raise a family there?\" I replied. She gives me a blank stare, she finally spits it out, \"If we weren't have so many problems in our life.. I'd almost wish we'd move here and live our lives. Raise a family, you know, have a normal life..\", I replied \"Yes, I would love that.\" She stares back at me, \"If you we didn't make that pact.. I would want you to move on and marry someone, raise a family there.\", I look at her, laughing, \"The only girl I want is you.. I won't find anyone else.\", she continues giving me the blank stare, \"But I would've wanted you to promise that you'd try.. actually.. promise me that you would've if you didn't make this pact.\" I laugh, \"Okay! It's a shame i'm going with you huh?\".\n\n\nI finally found a parking spot. It's not too far from the bridge, but it's right down the street from the yellow house. On the walk to the bridge she says \"Hey, lets look at the yellow house real quick, it'll be quick I promise!\". We go past the yellow house, we notice that there's a \"FOR SALE\" sign. She looks at me smiling, \"Isn't that convenient? Just joking haha.\" I give her a blank stare. The rest of the walk to the bridge was quiet for the most part, maybe she's starting to feel nervous about it. We get to the middle of the bridge and stop. I look her in the eye and ask her \"Are you sure you want to do this?\", she smiles \"Yes, and there's no one i'd rather do it with!.\" We both climb on to the railing, hands together. I tell her, \"Close your eyes, and on the count of three, jump.\" She smiles. We both close our eyes, I start to count. \"1\", I'm starting to feel remorse.. maybe we shouldn't.. \"2\", I hear someone screaming \"DON'T DO IT!\", but I can't stop I think.. \"3\". \"JUMP!\". We both jump. I see the life flash before my eyes, memories of her and I together, and the last thing I hear is her beautiful voice telling me \"I love you.\" We hit the water. All I see is darkness... is this what death feels like? It feels like I'm drowning.. maybe your afterlife depends on how you die? Maybe not. Death sure is slow.. it feels like i've been here forever. Can I move? Yes I can. I swim around for a bit, wait. I see her dead body there. I call her name, but she doesn't move an inch. Is she dead? Am I dead? Scuba divers come down to rescue us, well I guess not to rescue but to retrieve the dead bodies. I see him staring at me, like it's some miracle. He fishes me back up. After a little bit of resting i'm disappointed that I didn't die with her.. actually quite pissed. I see the scuba diver walk by and I ask him, \"Hey why did you look so surprised to see me alive?\", he gives me a serious look, \"You were down there for about 2 hours..\" I felt confused, \"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?\", he looks at me and says, \"I don't know what happened, but you're lucky, maybe you're immortal or something, that's beyond me.\" Immortal. Immortal. How can I fulfill my pact if I'm immortal? I hear a voice, it's her voice, \"Remember that promise you made? Don't break it..\", it fades away. I think to myself, \"I'll live for you my love, I'll be the embodiment of your dreams, I'll endure the pain for you for the rest of my life.\"", "We fall and fall the wind blows through my hair. \nIn this moment we live without a care. \nGone together, others can't compare. \nSee you soon, so an eternity we can share.\n\nHold me now before I disappear. \nYou survived the fall I sense the end is near. \nWhen we were young we lived without a fear. \nThere is no light without you that much has become clear.\n\nYou promised me it was love and would lead to fame. \nNow I slip, alone in the world again. \n\n*The fall is long, but with you I don't mind.* \n*You're gorgeous in the air, so glad your mine.* \n*Over before we know it, then all the stars they will align.* \n*Everyone will know the lovers and the flight that left the world behind.*\n\n*I hold you close, why am I still fine?* \n*Is this death or is this just a sign.* \n*Stay with me our souls are intertwined.* \n*You slip away and leave me far behind.* \n\n*I promised it was love and would lead to fame.* \n*I let you down I hope you see my pain.* \n*Now I wander lit by your eternal flame.* \n*I promise you, you'll never be alone again.*", "\"Kate\" I say softly, she doesn't answer. She is sitting on the edge of my bed, arms on her knees staring at the floor. Her hair is hanging in front of her face, hiding her expression from me, it makes me nervous because I can't tell what she's thinking, I'm not sure I want to know. \"Kate\" I say louder... \"Kate!\", she picks up her head, \"what?\", her eyes meet mine, vacant with a deep sadness underneath that I refuse to let seep in. \"Are you ready\", She nods ever so slightly without breaking eye contact, her eyes starting to tear. I look away and take a deep breath, I just want her confirmation, I don't want to have to think about it. I don't want to feel the pain.\n\nIt's time to go.\n\nThe cab lets us out near the bridge, \"nice day for a walk\" he says. I reply \"yeah\" as I pay him, I feel like he knows what we are about to do. I wonder if he has \"assisted\" anyone else. We walk to the middle of the bridge, holding hands, heads low. She squeezes my hand and pulls herself close to me as we walk. \"It is a nice day\" I say, trying to make small talk, it sounds stupid as soon as it leaves my lips, she doesn't seem to notice though. We find a spot near the middle of the bridge as another couple passes us from the opposite direction. I look into the distance and point at nothing in particular just waiting for them to leave. They are walking so slow, I feel like screaming \"get off my god damn bridge!\". I don't.\n\nIt's time.\n\nI look at Kate, she looks up at me. No words are spoken, there's not even a nod between us. We both know what comes next. I kiss her forehead softly, lingering for a moment as I breather her in one last time. We climb onto the railing together. Our feet hanging over, the water is so far below I get dizzy when I look down. This is it, just a twitch or a even a strong wind is all that separates us from eternity. I wish it could have been different, but there is no turning back now. I feel the sun on the back of my head as it breaks over the mountains, I feel a soft breeze cooling the sweat off my back, I hear wind whistling as it cuts through the bridge. It's strange how I feel so alive, it's a cruel joke. I look over at Kate, she is staring out into the distance, she turns her head and looks at me. She takes my hand.\n\nWe jump.\n\nOur bodies leave the railing and give in to gravity, I see panic on Kate's face as we separate. I lose sight of her. My heart is pounding, it feels like it's going to explode. My head is spinning or maybe I'm spinning, I cant tell. Things are moving so fast and getting faster, but for a moment time seems to stop. It's not supposed to be like this! This is not what I wanted! how can I take this back? how can I make is stop? I can't. I can't.\n\n...\n\nI open my eyes, so dark, so cold. My limbs are heavy, it's hard to move. I see a dim light in the distance. Is this it, am I dead? No. I must be fifty feet under water, but I'm still alive, I don't know how, but I'm alive. I hold my breath and close my eyes waiting for the end. Panic sets in. I just want this to be over but I can't force myself to let go. Finally, mercifully, my body lets go for me, against my will, my lungs start to expand and draw in what they expect is air. My lungs fill with water and I try to scream into the river as I black out.\n\nMy eyes open, but I can't see anything, it's so dark. My limbs 6 still heavy, my lungs labor like I'm breathing molasses. I'm still underwater. I'm still alive. What's happening, how can I sill be alive? I finally allow myself to cry, the river steals my tears as my body drifts with the current.", "We stood on the edge, overlooking the water and the near 300 foot drop below us. The water was grey, choppy and the chilly air was bringing in the fog that was iconic for washing over the bridge and the city. Sunset was just ending, twilight was here. It was my favorite time of day; any other day this would have been a beautiful sight. But today wasn't any other day - today was THE day. There wasn't time to reconsider, to take back what had been discussed and promised. It was time to jump off of the bridge and take solace in the peace of death.\n\n He took my hand and squeezed gently, reassuring as he asked, \"Are you ready?\" \n\n\"Yes.\" I nodded as he drew his arm around me for one last time, side stepping closer and resting his hand on my hip as he kissed my cheek. I pressed closer to him as he drew near, taking in a deep breath to prepare myself for the upcoming plunge. \"On the count of three?\" I asked, looking at him to see if he was ready to jump. \n\n\"Okay\" he said, gazing back at me before glancing at the water below. \"I love you,\" he blurted out, staring back at me. \nI gave him a small smile, \"I love you, too.\" We looked intently at each other, holding the embrace as he started to count down. \n\n\"Three... “We both took a deep breath, slightly shaking as we leaned closer over the water. \n\n\"Two... “My hand on the railing loosened, I was finally going to get the peace and rest of death. I would finally be free. \n\n\"One...\" He said. One final breath and we both let go, jumping off the edge.\n\nThe water rushes towards us quickly, and the wind whips as we grow in speed. I researched the jump before, I know it takes 4 only seconds and that people go as fast as 75 miles per hour. \n\nIt feels almost surreal. It’s finally happening. I looked up from looking towards our final destination and I see him, staring at me. He's panicked. His hand is still holding mine and he's squeezing tight.\n\n\n\"I'm sor--\" He starts, and everything goes black. It feels like sledgehammers have hit me from all around and everything is cold. I feel cold, and pain. I gasp for air and realize that I survived the impact but I can't see him. My love, the one who was apologizing to me just seconds ago.\n\n\"Where are you?!\" I try to yell, but I choke on the water. The water burns like pins and needles in my chest, but I cough it out and keep pushing on. I need to find him.\n\nThe waves that I saw before, choppy and grey, are now swells that attempt to hit me down. I bob in the water and with every tread to keep myself up I wince more in pain. The light is fading, and the fog is growing thicker. I need to find him. He was saying he was sorry, he regretted jumping. If I survived, he could have too, right? \n\nIt feels like I'm swimming forever, but it may have just been a minute before I find him. He's face down in the water. Tears stream down my face as I try roll him over to see if he's okay, but he's not. 2% of jumpers survive. He wanted to live, and he didn't. I wanted to die, and I didn't. \n\nI failed him in life and in death.\n", "As if it had not been bad enough to hate life with you. Now, two weeks later, I am sitting here in the hospital bed looking out through the light curtains with an emptiness. Our families have visited me and it all turned into a blame game. This world I still hate is not empty on the outside anymore. There are so many characters that care, so many that blame me, you and themselves. I killed you, you killed me and they killed us. But at the same time it is all fine. Outside of the curtains I can see the hint of an old tree when the sun slams through it shading parts of the curtains that I cannot manage to pull away. I miss the world, the old, empty and sentimental world where we had a dream. I miss walking down the dark streets with a feeling, warm by the hate, wishing there would be no tomorrow. I would rather have you here with me but they tell me you are gone. Shaken by the accident, not really. I just feel alone, used to having you understanding me. The only regret is in letting you go, I do not really know if I am immortal or not. I do not care if I am immortal or not. The sun have raised to many times since you promised me an eternity and I said I would always love you. I fucked up. There is no tomorrow for you, in the same way that there was no yesterday. Today is for me and I do not even enjoy life, as you know, or would have known. You are still with me but not really. An image I painted long ago, a beautiful painting of having something in common. And now all that is left is my empty heart and I know that life goes on. Even though I cry there is nothing sad about it. There is only fear, fear of being alone and I will miss the sex.", "The tension between our eyes solidified the fact that we were going to do this. We wanted to spend all of forever together, but you can’t do that by living. All the cars driving by us on the bridge, and not a single one stopped in its way. Not a single one stopped or even thought of stopping. We weren't important to them, much like they weren’t important to us. At that instant when I looked into her eyes, I knew she was the only one important to me. I wrapped my embrace around her, knowing this is how we’ll be forever, how we wanted it to be. Our feet went off the edge with our bodies trailing behind. What better way to live forever with one you love, then to die with them. \n\n*Splash.*\n\nExcept I didn’t.", "It's been an eternity since we first fell, and I've been falling ever since. I try to cling onto myself, those fragile fragments of memory that I still have. It is hard though, when all that surrounds you is the abyss, a hollow where there once was earth. The stars have long since burnt out, leaving me in darkness like a child caught misbehaving by their father. I believe that this is purgatory, a punishment for my sins. For the sin of attempting taking my life before the creator could, he should have let me burn in fire and brimstone for all of eternity. Even that would have been preferable compared to this nothingness I now face. \n\n\nBut for the sin of leading one of his children astray, he has forsaken me. I am cursed to this state of existence, fervently hoping for an ending that will never come. ", "\"Drunk as we were, we thought it was a good idea. After all, what damage could some water do?\n\nThat's how I lost the first one, back on Earth. We thought that love was forever, that nothing could end it. We thought wrong.\n\nI was a young lad back then. I couldn't contain my alcohol, and she couldn't contain it like I could. We ended daring each other to jump off one of the biggest bridges there was back then, what we called the \"Golden gate bridge\".\n\nAfter some bickering about who went first, we decided we'd go together.\n\nWe jumped, a fall which would kill any man back then, and most unprepared men nowadays. Of course, if it'd kill anyone back then, it meant she wouldn't survive.\n\nAs she fell, the alcohol in her head cleared enough to make her realize she'd die right then, and so she yelled. I was so drunk I didn't really realize I'd die, but I think that if I hadn't drunk so much I still wouldn't have been as scared.\n\nIt was a short while she screamed, and she fell into the water first. Then I don't remember much, only waking up ashore with the biggest hangover I had had in my life back then.\n\nOf course, many many years have went by. I got over her, even if at the time I tried to suicide many times. I realized it was pointless to try again, and went on with my life. Then I tested my luck fighting against the nazis, and again I didn't die. In Vietnam, I kept going even after I was shot at. So, I guess it's natural for me to try in Afghanistan.\"\n\n\"Okay, whatever you say, but there's no way you were born in 1920. Bring a fake ID next time, maybe we can recruit you then.\"", "They sat together, facing each other in a pair of old wooden dining chairs that sooner belonged half burnt and covered in ash at the bottom of a drunk's fire pit rather than on the crisp linoleum floor of the cramped bachelor apartment. The empty bottle was placed neatly on the floor between his feet, the red cap staring upward blankly. The glimmer from the street lights shone across her face and he could see that she was beginning to tire.\n\nHe squeezed her hands gently causing her to lock eyes with him. Her droopy eyelids offset by a thin smile that pierced her lips.\n\nHe smiled back at her hopelessly. This had been more her decision than his. He knew the baby meant the world to her but he had always held on to the hope that she would move on eventually. \n\nApparently not. \n\nHe knew that he couldn't live without her however, so when she proposed to end their suffering he begrudgingly agreed. He had resisted of course, but when he became convinced that her opinion could not be swayed he knew that he could not let her do it alone.\n\nHe began to feel his heart beat in his neck. Each rhythmic throb felt like waves of serenity passing through his body. He concentrated on the feeling while he watched her tiredly lay her head in her hands, the hair draping from her in such a way as to expose the bare skin of her neck.\n\nHis head was filled with brief memories of his lips resting on that neck. He closed his eyes tightly and held on to the memories for as long as he could. He remembered the smell of her hair as the world began to fall away around him. He remembered the faint tickle of her skin touching his as he relived every moment they had ever spent together. He...\n\n\nShe felt a rotting pain in her stomach and her mouth tasted like last night's vomit. She tried to lift her heavy body but could only manage to tilt her head back slightly and winced at the beam of light as it caught her in the eye. The pain from the sun forcefully imprinting an image on the back of her cornea was enough to motivate her out of her chair. She heard the dull clank of a plastic bottle skid across the floor as she shifted her weight on to her feet. With a sudden and horrific realisation her eyelids shot open. Her mouth fell agape and as her hand involuntarily rose to calm her quivering lip a well of tears began to run down her flushed cheeks.", "“Are you sure?” He looked into her eyes.\n\n She looked happy, probably because she knew the pain of her existence was about to end. She nodded and gave him a wan smile. She didn’t ask him. She didn’t have to. He’d wanted to end it all for a long time. His life was a long series of disappointments, save for Caroline. \n\nHe’d never known his family, and been kicked around foster homes until he was 18. Then he’d met her, and for a time, knew peace. Two and a half years. They hadn’t been enough for each other though. Both carried too much baggage, too much pain. She wanted to die, and he didn’t want to live without her. \n\nThat brought them to the bridge, the Golden Gate. It was famous for this sort of thing. They’d gotten out of their car and were now standing at the edge. A few cars were pulling over, but it would be too late.\n\nShe pulled him down and kissed him, and tilted slightly. And… they were falling. His heart was pounding, the air was rushing past them, buffeting them. He was staring at her face. He saw the happiness drain out in a rush as she realized she was about to die. \n\nHer face went from serene to horrified. She began to scream. Moments stretched into eternity and then… \n\nTime stopped. \n\nSome time later, he awoke. He’d washed ashore. He was alive. He was *alive*. And Caroline was dead. She hadn’t wanted to die, in the end. He remembered hearing that most people that jumped realized that on the way down. \n\nHe’d let her die and he.. was alive. He wasn’t even hurt. \n\nIt slowly sunk in that the only reason he’d ever had to draw breath had killed herself. \n\nHe tried to kill himself three more times that day. \n\nIt didn’t work. \n\nHis wrists healed before he’d but stained the water. \n\nJumping in front of a bus just tore his clothing.\n\nThe pills had no effect.\n\nHe couldn’t die. He was some how immortal. He crumpled to the ground and wept the tears of the damned. He was somehow sure he’d live forever. And he would see her face. Hear her scream, forever. Every moment of every day.\n\nEvery.\n\n\n*Single*.\n\n\n\nDay.\n\n", "We have to hurry, I think someone's spotted us. We get to the right spot, I hear sirens now. Pushed by the urgency, there's no time to think. We climb out and balance there. I look into her eyes and we both push off. The gut wrenching drop, then, blackness.\n\n\nI wake up in my room, of course, drenched in sweat. It seems so real, it always does. I've had this dream on and off for as long as I can remember. I can smell the ocean, taste the salt spray. Describe every stitch of her clothes.\n\n\nI loved her very much. At least that's how it feels in the dream. I really believe I could construct our entire lives given enough time in the dream. In fact, since I've discovered lucid dreaming, it seems I'm remembering more and more about us. I can't really control the dream, but I can slow it down kind of. I can discover more and more it seems.\n\n\nIf that sounds weird, I guess it's because it is! Most people would probably be scared to death and try to forget these kinds of dreams. I only feel more drawn to this one. \n\n\nThe other day her name actually came to me. Alicia. We met at a concert. I think. This is crazy, I can't go on like this. I don't go out. I just grind through my day, waiting for my chance to sleep. And dream.\n\n\nSeveral months go by, lonely, endless days. I've started to unwind the dream even more. The concert we met at, the connections we made.I feel so alone and depressed without her. Like I've truely lost her. I must be crazy.\n\n\nThere's really no hope I tell myself. Nothing more to be done... I find the right spot, balanced on the edge...\n", "Tears ran down my face as we stepped onto the edge. He put his arm around me as I smiled sadly back at him. This was how it had to be. I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear as they moved.\n\n\"You don't have to do this\" I breathed one last time.\n\n\"I know\" he said. \n\nHe held my hand and looked gazed down at the waves. \n\n\"Ready?\" he said, resolve firm in his tone.\n\n\"Ready\", I whispered back.\n\nIn unison we stepped into the air. They couldn't hurt us now.\n\nThe night wind clawed at my jacket with its icy fingertips, whipping my long hair back. My ears were filled with the rush of my heartbeat and the scream of the wind. \n\nFor 5 and a half seconds that lasted forever, nothing mattered. We were flying, we were together, we were free. \n\nThe river rushed up to meet us too soon, but we didn't care. I saw my laughing face reflected in his grey eyes. \n\nThen I saw nothing.\n\n---\nRachel had laughed as we fell. I hadn't heard her laugh in months before then. She was the last thing I saw before we hit the water. I think the last moments of our lives were the best. Everything that had gone wrong, every worry and problem, tossed into the air and washed away by the sea. I died happy. \n\nAnd then I woke up. Pain stabbed through me like electricity. I opened my mouth to scream and river water rushed in, burning like icy fire. Rachel was gone. I'd let go, lost my grip in my sleep, left her like I swore I wouldn't. I opened myself to the elements and willed them to let me join her. But they wouldn't. The current forced me onwards and I was forced under again.\n\nI forced myself onto a beach two days later. The broken ribs from the fall had refused, and the constant drowning had become routine. I sat exhausted, clothes torn beyond recognition, on a hard rock. I stared at the rusting ring on my finger. I'd sworn to stay by her side. Now I knew I never could.\n\n\n", "I've never seen this bridge so barren. Not to imply that it was lacking its fair share of the midnight traffic, no definitely not. More to imply that I simply did not care enough to keep up the facade of enjoying this day-to-day drivel. Monotony is the antagonist of my life. Sara shook it up a bit. \n\nShe sat alongside me, hand clenching mine as her cheeky smile glared to high heaven. Two beings in unity that used each other's company as a jam in the samey traffic that populated every waking second of their lives. It was interesting of course, she was an optimist in the most morbid way. She always clung to this faint spark of hers, a spark that told her this was a test that she had to transcend in order to reach her true life. But she couldn't do it alone. She needed her teenage heartthrob there with her to take that plunge and kick that ethereal bucket into the next realm. I sighed and turned to her. \"You still sure?\" Her eyes gleamed in the emberlike glow of the street lamps that lined the bridge. She just nodded. A confident, *happy* nod. \n\nI took her in both arms as we bid our short farewell to each other, destined to meet on the other side. The breeze that trailed alongside us for the night seemed to lift her from my arms as if she was nothing but a frail leaf. But that smile quickly turned to something more puncturing. A look of fear, pain and despair all rolled into one easy to digest packet of black emotion. I'd tried this before, suicide to end the simplistic lifestyle that hounded me. It didn't work. No scratches, organ trouble, bruises or otherwise. Any noose frayed before I would die. So here I sit, watching my current love weave her way into my tapestry as one who places trust in a boy she'd known for a handful of months. Idiot. For all her faults though, she had the whole looks thing going for her. A face of the whitest porcelain and hair of darkest black. Her delicate features and sharp eyes contrasted each other so perfectly, as if her face was structured by her own thought processes. Standing and looming over the edge as the water embraced her, I spoke my last words to her: \n\n\"You may not have been the first, nor the last. But I'll be damned if you aren't the prettiest.\"", "The sunlight through the clouds. Blinding. Her face. Smiling. I smile. We hold hands. She's crying. I'm crying.\n\nThe noise. Cars. People talking. Staring. Shouting. They can't help us.\n\nWe hold hands, gripping tight. I hold her. She gives the push. Her eyes are open. I can't watch. Black. Pain.\n\nThe noises are fading. So is the light. So is she. I'm not holding her anymore. I can't see her. I close my eyes again.\n\nLight. Noise. Voices. Not hers. Time. How long? Voices. Ten days underwater. \"Miracle\".\n\nIt's not." ]

[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 9, 10, 23, 65 ]

[ "1405297586", "1405300900", "1405323911", "1405329307", "1405302010", "1405310501", "1405311811", "1405320916", "1405322902", "1405377975", "1405299052", "1405305709", "1405296595", "1405301444", "1405295590", "1405292684" ]

[ "Working on writing something. Trying to keep it short but failing. I'll post something in the next 24 hours.", "The ship wrenches as we come out of warp, pulling into orbit high over the planet's atmosphere. The bay doors underneath my squad open, revealing bright blue oceans and green landmass.\n\nGripping my harness one last time, I offer a prayer up to the Old Gods, then I'm falling, propelled towards the planet by the thruster pack on the back of my suit.\n\nRed tinges flare up around my outer armor as we enter the thermosphere, then, the ground rising up closer and closer, the extra shielding blasts off, revealing a second set of thrusters. Half a second passes, and they activate. A jet of plasma shoots up around my legs, deflected by my energy shield.\n\nFinally, I touch the ground. Targets begin popping up on my HUD, primarily a large, red-marked military base in front of me. Vehicles, spotted by the suit's thermal camera, have already begun mustering inside. \n\nI press a button and a missile drone detaches from my shoulder, launching a barrage of plasma bombs at the base. In long, loping strides I cross the hundred meters or so to the base, watching as the missiles vaporize the base's meager defenses.\n\nWhen I reach the base, I find a few surviving humans scattered about, covered in plasma burns. They are easily dispatched with a few rounds from a wrist-mounted gun, and two more missiles from the drone destroy most of the remaining buildings.\n\nScanning the burning remains of the base, I send a notification to the cruiser waiting in the outer orbit of the planet. Similar messages follow as other crews do their work, and, in a matter of minutes, the military defenses of the entire western hemisphere have been destroyed, leaving the fleet free to commence orbital bombardment.\n\nThe invasion is off to a good start.\n" ]

[ 1, 1 ]

[ "1405400934", "1405403957" ]

[ "Blue smiles at Julia and rolls the dice. “Let’s go evens!” he yells throwing them against the sidewalk. Julia jumps for joy when Blue rolls a five. “Loser!” she teases grabbing her winnings which was composed of different types of gum and candy. As she puts the candy in her pocket, Julia’s mother comes out of the front door. “Julia Ashes! What are you doing? Get in here right now!” She shouts grabbing Julia’s hair. Julia wrestles free of her mother’s grip, “Why? Blue and I aren’t doing anything wrong!” she shouts. Mrs. Ashes rolls her eyes, “He’s a blank book! You have a planned destiny and don’t need to socialize with him! Go home Davis!” she yells slapping Julia on her head. Julia heads inside to appease her mother and looks back at Blue regretfully, she mouths, “I’m sorry” and disappears into her house. Blue stands up from the sidewalk and grabs his dice. He puts on a smile and tries to ignore Mrs. Ashes’ words; that was just something all parents say so they can keep control over their own kids. It didn’t matter that his book was blank; he was going to be fine. \n\n\nHe goes home and sees his father busy at the table creating another puppet. “Hey Davis! How’s your day?” He asks as he whittles away into the wood. Blue sighs and says, “Blue.” His dad looks up and smiles, “Davis is a perfectly great name. Blue is a color.” He says as Blue’s buries his face in his hands. A minute of silence passes and then his dad hears sobbing. He puts the puppet down and pulls Blue close, “Hey! Hey! What’s wrong Davy? Bad day?” he asks concerned. Blue wipes his eyes, “No, I’m fine. Bye.” He says getting up from the chair. His father calls him back to the table and takes on a stern tone, “Davis! What happened?” he asks. Blue rolls his eyes, “I just had a bad day. Mrs. Ashes yelled at Julia for hanging out with a blank book again. You would think I’d be used to it by now. I’m just stupid sometimes.” He explains trying to keep his composure. His dad pulls him in for a hug, “Mrs. Ashes doesn’t try to be rude she just doesn’t understand people like you. One of these days, she’ll get it.” \n\nBlue nods and picks up the half-finished puppet. “What’s this guy’s name?” he asks moving him around on the table. His dad smiles and says, “I’m thinking that he’s going to be Cameron. What do you think?” Blue looks at the puppet’s round face and thinks of Julia, “Hey what do you really think of Julia?” he asks putting the puppet down. His father grins and remarks, “Ah! The crushes of youth!” Blue blushes and shouts, “Dad! I meant that she’s nice unlike her jerk mom.” His dad laughs, “She’s a sweet girl. She’s smart; she’ll probably make a really good nurse someday just like her manual says.” Blue sighs and asks, “You’ve seen her manual right? Does it say who she marries and has kids with?” His dad looks at him seriously and begins to speak, “Davis! You cannot interfere with her destiny. It’s none of your business. While she’s living a mundane boring life as a nurse, you will be free to have any adventure you want.” Blue nods; he has already heard this speech dozens of times and knew his parent’s wishes. According to his parents, it would be better if his book remained blank otherwise it would be a jail sentence. Blue never had a choice in the matter and had never seen the book himself. He didn’t know what he wanted yet but he already felt committed to a death sentence. \n\nBlue retreats to his room and listens to some music to calm down. After a few minutes, he hears a knock on his window; it’s Julia. He opens his window and helps the freckled brunette climb inside. He laughs as she topples onto him; she was never the thinnest girl but she was always the most beautiful in his eyes. “What are you doing? The witch is going to catch you!” Blue says helping her up from the bedroom floor. She laughs, “I couldn’t let you leave like that. You looked upset, are you alright?” she asks. He nods, “Duh, I’m used to it, I am a blank book” he says laying down on his bed. Julia looks at him concerned, “Don’t call yourself that. There’s nothing wrong with not having a set destiny” she runs her fingers through his blonde hair and looks into his blue eyes. They were so intensely blue that she had nicknamed him after he began to hate his first name. She loved Davis as much as Blue. “Davis, if you feel so lost why don’t you write in your destiny?” she asks. He groans, “It’s not that easy. My parents are animate about staying free from all that stuff” he says watching as she rummages through his things. “But isn’t it your life Davy?” Julia asks looking at him with her dark brown eyes. Blue shifts nervously on the bed, “Why are you calling me Davis again?” he asks changing the subject. She rolls her eyes impatiently, “You can’t be free forever or else you’re going to end up alone. Stop hiding from the person you’re meant to be.” Blue gets angry and shouts, “Don’t you get it? I’m not meant to be anyone! Stop pretending that you know who I’m supposed to be; just go home!” Julia looks at him in astonishment and leaves without saying another word. \n\nBlue sulks on the bed feeling lonelier than ever. As the anger continues to well up, Blue decides he’s done and gets up from his bed. He grabs a pen from his desk and sneaks into his parent’s room. He looks at their desk which is perfectly neat and looks through the drawers. Afterwards he decides to check the den. His parents had filled the den with his school pictures, trophies, and awards; maybe it was hidden amongst all his accomplishments. He moves his art awards and sees a small blue paper. As he pulls it out, he realizes that it’s his book. It’s incredibly thin with only three pieces of paper but it was his. He pulls out his pen and sits down at the table. He takes a deep breath; there were no second chances on it, he had to be perfect. He writes,\n\nDavis Aaron Valley (“Blue”) is an incredibly charismatic and gifted individual. He is known for his generosity and optimistic spirit. Although he had a rough start in life, he overcame many obstacles and proved to everyone that he was more than a “blank book”. \n\nBlue smiles and puts down his pen; it was his perfect destiny. \n", "My hands quivered as I flipped through page after page of an empty book. An empty book that was supposed to give us the answers we needed. Answers that would allow us to raise our child to become a proper citizen, one who abides by the rules set for us in the crimson pages of the New Bible. This small booklet is an excerpt from the New Bible of course. It recites the seven great stages of a child's rise from adolescence. I knew the stages off by heart, each citizen of the United New Order memorises the New Bible in it's entirety through our early educational years. The sole message written in this book however, made my brain come to a grinding halt. Between my clasped thumbs were two deep purple pages with crisp white text stretching from edge to edge that read \"Write your own destiny\". I was angry. I felt cheated.\n\n\n\"What the fuck is this?\" I screeched, throwing the book to the floor. The only answer I heard was my own heavy breathing.\n\n\nI looked down and saw the book laying on the carpet past my heaving chest. I turned towards the living room and grabbed the first pen I could find. Grasping it in my right fist I picked up the now wrinkled book and pressed it open firmly against the wall. The white text glared back at me.I stood there for a moment in silence, thinking back to my early years when each child in my class would recite the seven steps. I thought about how all the children had dreams, dreams of who and what they wanted to become and I thought about each stinging whip that was meant to suffocate those dreams. My heart fell sharply and for the first time in a long time I let myself cry.\nAnd I wrote...\n\nI wrote about all the beauty in the world. I wrote of each smiling face and of each gut wrenching frown that I had ever seen. I wrote of mountains stretching out from the horizon in all directions. I wrote of soft raindrops hidden behind the smoky glass of a far away shop filled with eccentric and lavish items from the furthest reaches of the planet. I wrote of all the things that I would never be and of all the dreams that were lost to the sting of that whip.\n\nWhen I was finished I wiped the last tear from my face and gently kissed the now filled book. I placed it under the pillow of my unborn child's crib and hoped that it's writings would fill his mind at night. I hoped that he would be stronger.", "It took us the entire nine months to agree on a name. I wanted Corbin, she was more set on Laurence. We named him Ryan. He is adorable, and that’s saying a lot because up until 3 months ago I never used the name adorable. Then I saw the 3d ultrasound of my little guy and instantly “adorable” became a part of my everyday vocabulary. Blue binkies, adorable. Onesies with little monkey’s and hippos on them. Adorable. Everything in my life had become adorable leading up to the birth of my first child.\n\nUntil it wasn’t. \n\n“Sir, could I beg of your time in the hallway, we need to speak?” a young woman with dimples and carrot blonde hair motions to me from the entrance to my wife’s hospital room. \n\n“My name is Jamira Clones, and I need to speak to you about the NBIM (New Birth Instruction Manual) for your son Ryan, it seems that we’ve incurred an error. One that we’ve never dealt with before.”\n\n“An error?” I reply\n\n“Yes, as you know every child born, comes with an instruction manual, NBIM, for their parents, or caregivers usage, it seems that your sons, well – while we have a manual, it appears to be incomplete. Blank rather.”\n\n“What do you mean blank? Let me see that” I reach to pull the dense manual from her grasp.\n\n“Sir, please do not do that, I’d like you to first speak to –“\n\n“Give me the manual, it is my right to have it in my possession”\n\n“Fine, please sign this waiver that shows you’ve received it, but I do suggest you speak with our NBIM director, so that –“\n\nI quickly sign off my name and hand her back the document which puts me in possession of my sons manual. I turn my back to her and flip through to the first page, which simply states Ryan Amere Camerlengo, 7.12.2085, and both my name and my wife’s name. The second page is blank. As is the 3rd and 4th, on the 5th page it simply states “Write your own destiny”. \n\nWrite your own destiny? What sick and cruel joke is this? What will I tell my wife? She’s been elated to receive our manual, to be the best mother to Ryan, assure of all his needs and expectations, and now I hold in my hands a blank manual. Fuck.\n\nI reenter my wife’s room quietly, shuffling my feet at a slow pace. This is not something I’m ready to share with her. But not something I can keep from her either. What parent wants to be different? To have their child be different? What does this mean for our family?\n\n“Look baby, he’s cooing, he’s looking for his daddy” my wife smiles looking back and forth between me and our son.\n\n“Melanie, we need to talk. About Ryan, about his manual” I whisper\n“What about Ryan? He’s a perfect boy,” again she looks between our son and myself.\n\n“He is different baby, his manual – his manual is blank, there are no instructions for us” I cry.\n\n“No instructions, what do you mean? What does it say? Does it say anything” she begs.\n\nI hand her the manual. She hands me Ryan. As she flips through the manual from page to page, frantically searching for some works other than those on the first page, she begins to pout. Her lips pucker and her eyes begin to water.\n\n“My mother was right, she, she was right” she cries.\n\n“What do you mean she was right?” I question.\n\nI look at my wife, confused. Searching her eyes for an answer, racking my brain to come up with my understanding of her words.\n\n“I was born with a blank manual,” she answers.\n\nI stare at her. I feel my mouth getting dry. I begin to speak but she stops me.\n\n“I knew there was a chance, I was just praying that it didn’t happen again. The responsibility of choosing ones own destiny is extremely difficult, and I’d never wish that upon anyone, but he’s here now…and we can’t change it. We have to love him and move on.”\n\nI’d never even heard of the possibility of being born without a manual, other than what was in history books, and those were always only mythical stories to me. A manual is an important part of ones life. My parents drilled that into me growing up. And now here I was before my wife and new son, two people whom I loved more than myself, and they lacked what I thought to be of such importance.\n\n“You’re right baby, we can do this, and he’ll be as lovable and likable as his mother, we can just recycle that manual, it’s useless anyways”\n", ">It started after the third world war. A ravaged earth and dwindling population meant that the remaining governments needed some way to protect the future of humanity, at least that's how they sold it. Really, it is more like a way not to lose control again. Sure, you can rule a population by fear, but fear is difficult, it requires resources. Much easier to give the people a life and let them live it, and so the Bureau of Life Production was born. \n\n\"State Your Name.\"\n\n*Mason Codd.*\n\n\"Please explain how you came to work for the Bureau\"\n\n*That's a bullshit question, and you know it.*\n\n\"Please, Mr. Codd.\" \n\n*You're born into the work here, you have to be. If people knew it was just some guy writing out the rest of their life and how to live it, who would listen? It needs to be someone special, someone beyond question, and so the you throw thousands of reports and numbers out each year to solidify faith in the system. No one understand the numbers, how could they? It isn't in their plan.*\n\n\"Please explain the nature of your work for the Bureau\"\n\n*To date I have written 6,427 manuals, ranging from teachers to electricians to stay-at-home parents. The morals section is copied and pasted from a file, as is most of the childhood and the \"how to\" instructions for the parents. Sure, it gets slightly more complicated towards adulthood with first sexual experiences and all that, but nothing too difficult.*\n\n\"Are you aware why you're here\"\n\n*Yes.*\n\n\"Can you elaborate\"\n\n*And what would be the point exactly?*\n\n\"Please elaborate, Mr. Codd\"\n\n*I signed off on a blank manual*\n\n\"Mr. Codd, I would prefer you did not lie to the audience.\"\n\n*You asked and I answered, Fred*\n\n\"This is not a casual conversation. Please tell the group why you are here\"\n\n*In how many sentences.*\n\n\"As many as you find necessary.\"\n\n*Last week, an assignment came by my desk. Like I said, I've written manuals for teachers, plumbers, reporters, doctors, you name it. So you must understand my surprise when a file marked \"Population Control\" crossed my desk*\n\n\"The nature of our position within the Bureau is to write the lives that are assigned, Mr. Codd.\"\n\n*Bite me, someone let this whole thing go to their head. I'm not condemning someone to be a murderer.*\n\n\"Mr. Codd, the population is rising. Now, we write limited pregnancies and births into plans, even limited deliveries by doctors, but accidents happen. They are only human. And so, occasionally, this must happen.\"\n\n*Did you have a question or can I leave.*\n\n\"Please tell everyone what you wrote in your report\"\n\n*I told you, the report was blank*\n\n\"We both know that isn't true. The people here know, and the parents of that poor child know.\"\n\n*This isn't going to keep working, this isn't a long term solution. People will figure it out.*\n\n\"Not as long as we re-issue the blank manual. How you got it through is beyond me\"\n\n*If it is all the same to you Fred, I'd like to be killed now. Those parents have the manual, re-issue or not, and they've read it. Maybe that'll stick, maybe it won't. Maybe you'll have to 'control the population'. One way or the other, fuck you and the Bureau.*\n\n\"Please tell the audience what you wrote, Mason.\"\n\n*I wrote \"Write your own destiny\" and shipped it, I'm glad that freedom scares you.*" ]

[ 1, 1, 3, 6 ]

[ "1405448346", "1405451468", "1405440194", "1405446422" ]

[ "I only take 3 bookings a day now. When I first started, I was trying to do groups, and even 10 to 15 individuals in a day, which is crazy when I look back on it now. There’s just not enough time that way, and a lot of people left pretty unsatisfied.\n\nSo now I’ve reduced my bookings, sometimes even scheduling a single person for a whole day, if they are willing to pay for it. I’m not likely to ever be a millionaire with this business, but I’m doing well. And frankly, there’s no shortage of customers, seeing as I’m the only one who can provide this particular service.\n\nThey come to feel different. They come to feel special. Most of them are just curious, maybe even a bit condescending, but I never hesitate to remind them that they are just like everyone else in the world, while I’m the only truly unique human in existence. That pretty well always puts them in their place.\n\nOthers come because they absolutely want the experience of what it is like to be me. To be the one who is different, whose body and abilities are unique among all of the billions in the world.\n\nWhen I started, I tried to simulate my minimal strength and capabilities by placing them in heavy harnesses, and all manner of homemade contraptions. But I had grossly underestimated the difference between the vast power in a normal human body, and my own limited aptitudes. Gradually I moved away from the physical, and taught myself to guide my client through a meditation process to help them understand my weakness. Lots of them struggle to limit their own natural gifts, but eventually most people can get the hang of it. I answer any questions people have about the limitations of my physical form. We spend a few hours together, and I help them to live those few hours as someone they could never actually be. Just a simple, bare-bones human being. No special ability, just plain. Every one of them is very grateful when they leave, endlessly thanking me for showing them the beauty of such a special life.\n\nOf course, they like to show off their ability to fly, or punch through stone, or blast lasers from their eyes. I always used to wish I could do such things, and I spent my childhood in perpetual jealousy of my friends and all of the fun things they could do. But while they enjoyed their garden of physical wonders, I turned inwards to my own secret world. I turned to reading, studying, and growing my own inner abilities, instead of simply making-do with what fate had granted me.\n\nNow I stand apart from the rest of the world; the only human to truly reach a greater potential on the merits of my own effort. The Toughs work in labour, making easy work of the hardest tasks. The Fliers are couriers and whatnot. The Blasters are soldiers. The list is endless in its mundane normality. I’m the first and only one to break the mold, and become something completely unique in all of human history:\n\nI’m plain, and that makes me special. And they flock to me in droves to experience such a unique life, if only for a few hours.\n", "I pace back and forth in my lavish cell, restlessness my constant companion. They spared no expense to make my imprisonment comfortable. And despite their intentions, that's exactly what this was, imprisonment. No amount of delicacies will make me forget I will never taste fresh air again, no forms of entertainment will ever make up for not being allowed visitors, and all the luxuries in the world don't change the fact that I call a bunker miles beneath the surface of the Earth my home. I am the only one of my kind, and it has brought me nothing but misery.\n\nMy parents kept me a secret for as long as they could. But a secret this big could not stay hidden for long. And when word got out that such a delicate being had come into existence, it traveled faster than any of the Supers could fly. At first I was just a news headline. One especially zealous reporter would constantly phase through our walls to ask my parents what it was like to raise such a frail child. Going to school, I was never bullied. Not because I had any friends, but because their playful rough-housing would have literally killed me. At the time my mother hated it. It seems like a vacation compared to now.\n\n When I started to age is when things truly took a turn for the worst. In the world of Supers, everyone is perpetually in their prime. No sickness, peak physical performance, the absolute embodiment of perfection. Supers do not die from natural causes, and it takes one hell of an unnatural cause to put one down. But not only did I not have an special gifts, but my body was starting to show signs of wear. It was then that the collective lightbulb of the Supers turned on, and I was seen for what I truly was...mortal. This drove a massive divide in the world, although to my eyes it was two sides of the same coin. On the one side were Supers who saw the very fact that I drew breath insulting, I was a gross abomination and needed to be eliminated so I could not taint the gene pool with my disgusting normalcy. And the other side are my captors, or guardians, depending on who you ask. It was a perfect world before I came along. And with perfection comes stagnancy. These Supers saw my vulnerability as something that gave them purpose. I was the personification of innocence, and needed to be protected at all costs. \n\nAnd so the two sides planted their feet, and the fighting began. When the side that wanted me dead started to win, I was swept away against my will and placed in this bunker, which is where I've been for the past three years. They claimed it was for my own safety, but were blind to the irony of what they were doing. My mortality was their most valued possession, and in order to keep it protected, they were denying me any sort of life. Well I have had enough, and have resolved to once again feel the sun on my skin, and the wind in my face. This bunker was designed to keep Supers out, not to keep me in. Even if it kills me, I will return to the world, a man among gods. ", "Tests. Thousands of tests. Tests of strength, tests of speed, and my least favorite, the test of flight.\nIve failed them all, over and over again. While other children were lifting cars or flying off of buildings i was locked in a room with a tutor who would constantly make me jump, hoping one day i would just stay in the air, but i always came back down. I spent my youth hidden away from the world, an embarrassment, a freak, a defect. My father, who had served in the military during the great invasion of the sumerikai hordes, could barely stand to look at me. My mother, she never lets me see her fly. She thinks it would hurt me too much to see how different i am, as if i somehow forgot. \nI grew up vengeful, a villain in a world of heroes. I wanted them all to know what it was like to be different, i wanted them all to feel my shame. So i studied them. Locked away in my room for hours while the world outside wallowed in happiness i learned how to beat them, how to bring the world to my level. And now the time is near. A weapon, unlike any other weapon has been manufactured at my fathers military compound to be used for terraforming other planets, they call it a \"Gravity impulse machine\". Its primary use is to drill to the core of its target planet and lower the gravity of the core so that our soldiers can fly there just as they can here. But i can reverse it, and i will. Im ready for the world to see what its like to be weak, to be a freak. With one push of a button i will cut off their wings, weaken their strength and slow their speed, DEFECT them as i have been defected. This is the last anyone will hear of me, for i know the gravitational change will surely crush me where i stand, and i welcome it. I leave this world of heroes as the only villain, but as the villain who won. " ]

[ 1, 2, 5 ]

[ "1405472845", "1405478348", "1405462767" ]

[ "He can’t stop staring.\n\nHe tries to focus on the screen in front of him, tries to occupy his mind with the symbols and numbers that he sorts into neat, ordered patterns for a living. Structures – predictable, symmetrical models that make sense even to a mind that doesn’t understand the system they create. He has always liked numbers, and he loves his job. It suits him. Or rather, it suited him. Until she appeared.\n\nHe’s doing it again. He snaps his head away, back to the screen. It happens automatically, an impulse he can’t control. His eyes are drawn to her like moths to a flame. From his cubicle he can see the back of her head, the copper coloured hair tumbling down her back, the nimble movements of her fingers as she composes words on the screen in front of her. \n\nFor the first time, he has started to watch the clock as he works, counting the hours and minutes and seconds until the lunch break. At first he tried to convince himself it was because he recently stopped eating breakfast, but he knows it’s not true. He knows that the reason those thirty minutes have suddenly become so precious is because of her. It’s because of how she turns to look at him as they leave their cubicles, because of how her face lights up when their eyes meet, because of how her smile makes his heart feel like it’s about to soar out of his chest. They often sit together, and talk about ordinary things. He’s never met anyone who can make him laugh like she can. Sometimes a silence settles over them, and in those moments he can feel a weight in the air, the heaviness of things unsaid.\n\nPeople have noticed. He knows that they whisper, that they spread horrible rumours. It’s unnatural for two people to spend so much time together, especially two people from such different classes. He knows even from their superficial conversations that their compatibility score would be stunningly low. She would never be assigned to him as a Partner. Where he works with numbers, she works with words. She talks about a love of the outdoors, he prefers long afternoons spent inside. She dreams of possibilities, he sees the facts. They are utterly different, fundamentally incompatible. \n\nAnd yet, when he lies in bed at night he sees her face. His day revolves around those moments when his eyes lock with hers, and the rush that he feels inside when he makes her laugh. He recently stopped eating breakfast, in the hopes that they might steal a few moments together before the day begins.\n\nIt scares him, this feeling. He feels like he is standing on the verge of something great and terrible, something that he knows is wrong. Yet when their shoulders brush in a crowded corridor, or when their hands accidentally touch, there is electricity between them. A spark that sings under his skin. \n\nIf he was a better person he would quit his job, or ask to be moved. His productivity is down, his mind is unfocused, and he can barely sleep or eat. But this feeling is like a drug, and he’s an addict who’s too far gone. She’s a break in the pattern, a wildcard that has thrown his system completely off balance. Yet the thought of losing her is more than he can bear.\n\nHe’s staring again.\n", "\"Are you sure we should be doing this? What if we get caught?\"\n\n\"Troy, you mustn't worry so much about these things. Nobody is going to see us.\"\n\n\"...Okay. So how do we kiss?\"\n\n*1 week earlier...*\n\nI remember seeing her for the first time. I was at work at the café on 6th and Benedict St. one day when I first saw her. She was about average height, and appeared to take good care of herself. She had long brown hair with gorgeous brown eyes, and a pale face, though at the time I wasn't sure if it was because it was her natural color or if it was because of the cold outside. The rest of her body was well-bundled from the cold so I didn't have any other way to tell. \"One medium cappuccino with whipped cream,\" she said as she automatically whipped out her card. \"For Helen.\"\n\nAs she gave her card to me, she looked into my eyes; something in her stare appeared to change. *Does she...like me?* \"So, your name is Troy?\" she tells me, almost with a smirk. \"How did you know that?\" I asked, having never seen this girl before in my life. She started to giggle a little as she pointed at my name tag. \"You can tell it's a Monday,\" I said as I started to chuckle as well. Then I noticed the scarf she was wearing: it was a Halo-themed scarf. \n\n\"I didn't even know those existed!\" I proclaimed.\n\n\"Wow, you're one of the few guys who actually knows what this is from. That game is so outdated compared to what people are playing these days, you know?\"\n\n\"I know, it's sad. I mean the Xbox 2880 and Playstation 11 are nice and all, but sometimes it's nice to just dust off my older consoles and see what my grandparents were always saying were the best games.\"\n\n\"Haha, yeah, I know. Nobody plays it anymore, but I still play Call of Duty: Ghosts now and then. Apparently it's a classic!\"\n\n\"You have that too?! Oh man that's an awesome game! Though my grandparents never owned it. They missed out--\"\n\nI was interrupted mid-sentence as my co-worker handed me Helen's drink. \"Yay!\" she said. \"It's so cold outside, I need a warm drink to keep me going before I get to work.\"\n\n\"I hear you. Every time someone comes in it drops like 20 degrees in here.\"\n\n\"Yeah, it's bad outside. Maybe we should meet up sometime and play some games together to get our minds off the cold?\" she said with a more defined smirk.\n\n\"That would be great.\" We smiled and exchanged numbers as she started sipping her drink before braving the cold once more. It wasn't until later, though, as I left work and started my walk home, did I start to think about what could happen. You see, about 10 years ago there was a revolution. An uprising of men and women, young and old, took down the ruling elite for a number of reasons. The biggest reason was that they were sick of being romantically rejected or burned; the concept of \"love\" had devolved into simply meaning screwing someone out of their money, their house, taking their kids away from them, whatever it took to make a quick buck. There were still some good eggs out there who believed in the old-fashioned concept of love--having a lifelong companion at your side no matter what--but they were persecuted following the revolution.\n\nThe elite fell, and an oligarchy rose up, and while most laws stayed intact, all things that had to do with love were deemed illegal. Valentine's Day became Fornication Day, meaning this was the one time of the year where people could engage in sexual activities without romance in order to keep the human population stable. All objects that portrayed love--teddy bears, roses, some forms of chocolate, romantic literature--were banned, often being eradicated as mass burnings similar to what occurred in Nazi Germany. Anybody caught in romantic activities are sentenced to several things: perhaps they will be sent to \"electrical correction.\" Perhaps they are publicly shamed and castigated. Whatever the punishment, it often leads to life in prison. Being caught in a marriage is grounds for the death sentence.\n\n*1 week later...*\n\nHelen and I agreed to meet at my apartment. She came in covered in snow, but she pulled out a copy of CoD: Ghosts just as she promised! That was a fun time as we sat and played Ghosts for hours, only taking a break to order a pizza. Once the pizza arrived, we decided to watch a (government-sanctioned) movie from a long time ago called *Jurassic Park*. We were both laughing to the point of crying; I mean, giant lizards?! Our ancestors were *weeeeird*.\n\nFinally, the movie ended as we both calmed down from laughing so hard. \"Oh man, I have never laughed that hard before in my life,\" Helen said, \"why haven't I ever heard of this movie before??\"\n\n\"I have no idea, but I'm so happy that this exists,\" I said with tears still rolling down my cheeks. \"I definitely need to remember to show this to my friends next time we get together.\"\n\nAnd then...something weird happened. We both reached for the remote to the TV, and our hands touched. I didn't know what to do. She wasn't pulling hers away, hell she was even smiling. ...But why?\n\n\"Troy,\" she said still smiling, \"how would you feel about maybe...kissing?\"\n\n\"Kissing?\" I said, alarmed. \"Helen we can't do that. That's illegal.\"\n\n\"What's your point? Our grandparents and parents did it all the time.\"\n\n\"You're also forgetting that our grandparents and parents were killed for being married and kissing all the time. I'm not going to end up in prison for this...\"\n\n\"And you won't. Believe me, you're in an apartment with no windows, your bathroom doesn't have any electronics in there that can watch us...you'll be fine. Just follow me.\" After that she just grabbed me by my hand and took me into my bathroom.\n\n\"Are you sure we should be doing this?\" I said with a more fearful tone. \"What if we get caught?\"\n\n\"Troy, you mustn't worry so much about these things. Nobody is going to see us.\"\n\n\"...Okay. So how do we kiss?\"\n\n\"Well, you just close your eyes...\"\n\n\"Okay.\"\n\n\"...Lean your head closer to mine...\"\n\n\"Yeah...\"\n\n\"And just ^press ^your ^^lips ^^against ^^^mine... \"\n\nAnd then we kissed. A weird feeling overcame me, almost like an electrical charge ran down my body as it sent a shiver down my spine and caused my stomach to feel strange. We opened our eyes as we pulled our heads apart. \"Well?\" she said. \"That wasn't so bad, now was it?\"\n\n\"No, I guess it wasn't all that ba--\"\n\nI heard a smash. \"POLICE! WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE. GET DOWN ON THE GROUND.\"\n\n\"Wh-what?!\" I said. \"How did they know...\"\n\nI turned back to Helen, but was met with the barrel of a gun staring back at me. \"You should do what they say,\" she said. \"The house is clear! Suspect is in the bathroom!\"\n\n*What is happening...*\n\nThe police came in and took me away within 30 seconds. It wasn't until later that I learned that Helen was an undercover agent, a special type known as an \"earwig.\" It's her job to go around the city and fool men into making a romantic move on her, all while she was having it recorded with a special necklace she was nearing. And all that time I thought it was just a family heirloom.\n\nSo here I sit, in my jail cell, 6 months in to my life sentence, and all I can say is this: love does not exist. The human race has become too corrupt, damaged, self-centered, to ever have romance be a part of the human race again. And here I sit, wondering if the act of outlawing love was even necessary, when the number of people who wish to harm others far outweigh those who the oligarchy claimed to have quashed. Was it even necessary? Or was this just the final step we humans needed to make us equal to the technology we are surrounded by? It envelops us every day, perhaps this was all we needed to make us part of the machine..." ]

[ 2, 2 ]

[ "1405468675", "1405472397" ]

[ "It was a normal school day. I had just finished the exam. As we were switching classes, I heard my name called.\n\n\"TheHockeyist, please come to the office. This is very important. TheHockeyist to the office. Once again, TheHockeyist to the office. If you didn't hear me, TheHockeyist to the office NOW.\"\n\nOh god.\n\nWhat on earth could this be? I was normally a good student. I did well in all of my classes and rarely made C's. Had I failed a class?\n\nThe principal looked at me, with an evil grin on her old, wrinkled face. She opened her mouth, and because of her age, you could barely hear anything when she spoke. She should have retired by now, but for some reason, she didn't want to.\n\nShe began to utter a few sounds, which I could barely make into words.\n\n\"oo\" \"er\" eh\" er\" \"ih\" \"uh\" \"uh\" eh\" ear\" oo\" \"ail\" \"eh\" \"eh\".\n\nI could make this out as \"You were the first in one hundred years to fail the test\".\n\nWhat test? The one we took today? And normally the results wouldn't come back this early.\n\nI stood there in misbelief. The principal opened her aging voice to speak again. I tried to make out the words.\n\n\"It's true. You have failed the test.\"\n\nAdjusting her glasses, she handed a piece of paper to me, fresh out of the printer.\n\n\"Your results.\"\n\n*Science - 81*\n\n*Math - 63*\n\n*History - 52*\n\n*Vision test - 33* - who would put this on an exam?\n\n*Mind test - 14* - Why???\n\n*English - 0* - Normal...\n\n*Spanish - 0* - Normal...\n\n*Ability to tie your own shoes - 0* - What has Common Core come to?\n\n*Average- 30.375*\n\n*Pass/Fail - FAIL*\n\nOh no. This was worth 25% of my whole grade for the year.\n\nI blamed the curriculum.\n\nI asked if I could possibly retest.\n\n\"Oh\" was all I heard out of her wrinkled mouth.\n\nI couldn't retake the test? Was I doomed to fail high school?\n\n\"Eh-ssss\"\n\nDid I have to take the 12th grade over again?\n\n\"Oh\"\n\nThe high grades in my other classes made up for it. My final grade was actually an 80 for the year. I had actually passed the 12th grade and could graduate.\n\n\"Ah\" \"oh\" ow\" \"uh\" \"oo\"\n\nI'm so proud of you?\n\n\"Eh-ssss\"\n\n\"But if you get one more detention, you will not be allowed to graduate and you will have to take the 12th grade over again!\"\n\nGraduation was in a few hours. I ran back to my classroom, burst in, and screamed out to everyone that I was going to graduate the 12th grade.\n\nThe teacher gave me a very stern look. \"THEHOCKEYIST!!!!!\"\n\nDetention.\n\nDammit.", "\"Ah, we finally meet.\" The President of the World sits in his chair, gazing at you. You sit there in amazement. An hour ago you were sitting in your high school, when you were summoned to the principal's office. He told you that you had failed the HDT. \n\n\"So, you know why you are here?\" The President asked. He seemed delighted to see you, and all of his assistants were leaning forward in their chairs, quivering with anticipation. \n\n\"Yes,\" you said. The rest of the room gasped in excitement.\n\n\"Say something else!\" one of them said.\n\n\"Oookaayy,\" you drawled. Smiles broke out, and some people clapped. The President calmed them down, but he was grinning from ear to ear.\n\n\"You know that you failed the Human Development Test, but there are things that were kept from you. First, the HDT doesn't always stand for Human Development test. In your case, it stands for Human Deviation test,\" he said.\n\n\"So, I'm not a human?\" you asked. Cries of joy erupted through the room. The President shushed his colleagues like a prank caller might settle his giggling friends.\n\n\"No. You are, in fact, the reincarnation of the Human Spirit. Oh, we have been waiting a long time for this! We have always known you were who you are, and we have been monitoring you daily, but we had to make sure that it would be safe for us to reveal the truth to you.\"\n\n\"Safe? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Well, the last time the Human Spirit became incarnate, things didn't go so well. The last reincarnation was... Hitler.\"\n\n\"Hitler?!?\" you exclaim. \"So you're saying I'm Hitler?\" \n\n\"Oh God, no. Far from it, in fact. You see, you failed the Human Deviation test in one of two ways. The good way. Because, in your case, the HDT also stands for the Hitler Derivative Test. Turns out, you are not at all derived from Hitler!\" The room broke into incoherent cries of joy. The President settled them after a moment of aggressive groveling.\n\n\"But, why? Does that mean that the essence of the Human Spirit is to be evil?\"\n\n\"No, no. You see, the reincarnation before Hitler was Jesus Christ. But the incarnation before that was also Jesus Christ. Hitler was very upset with the Jews for testing the Human Spirit via crucifixion, and he enacted his revenge. Oh, but you are nothing like that, so we have nothing to worry about now!\"\n\n\"But, if you've been monitoring me, how did you not know that I was a good person?\"\n\n\"Well, you seem to really enjoy the violent media that we test you with. And apparently you are quite...lewd.\" He put his hands up defensively when he saw you turn red. \"Oh don't worry. Masturbation is perfectly normal in all humans, and the Human Spirit is no different. Even if you were a bit excessive...\"\n\n\"But no matter! Now that we know that you are not Hitler, you can lead us into the glory that is the meaning of human life!\"\n\n\"But... but I don't know the meaning of life,\" you stammer.\n\n\"Silly boy, of course you do!\" the President cried. \"You're the Human Spirit! The meaning of life is whatever you want it to be!\"", "\"Inexplicable, I tell you . This test has been administered in all national high schools for the last century and never have we had someone actually fail. By it's very nature, it is individually tailored to each student and yet, you somehow managed to bungle even that up. For God's sake, you actually get bonus points for \"Individuality\" even for spelling mistakes ! How do you explain this,Daniel ?\" bombarded Principal Carruthers.\n\n\"I know how the system works, Sir. My brother graduated three years back and his batch was posted to Sector 8 in the Uranium mines. I haven't heard back from him since then.\" I said.\n\n\"What does that have to do with you failing ?! \" bellowed Carruthers. He was breathing heavily. A furious vein had popped out of his forehead.\n\n\"Little Ellie graduates in two years, Sir. I wanted to make sure I graduated with her so that wherever we go, we are posted together. She isn't like the rest of us. She needs her brother. She needs...me.\" I said, finishing a bit unsure. I hadn't thought twice about the decision myself and I didn't expect him to understand why I did it.\n\nWhat I didn't expect was for Carruthers to collapse into his chair. All the anger in his eyes had faded away. As he continued staring at me, he bit his lower lip, progressively looking sadder and sadder. \n\nHe pressed the intercom button on his desk and said \"Let them in, Agnes\". He then turned to look at me.\n\n\"Do you have any idea what you've done, you stupid fool ?\" he muttered under his breath.\n\n\"I know there...\"\n\n\"You know nothing. There's a reason nobody's failed the exam yet. It was, has and always will be a notoriously easy and an impossible-to-fail exam,because it was designed that way. This system was created to maximize productivity for the state from a very young age. As long as students keep taking the exam and clearing it, the Government recruits them. There are no alternatives . Nobody is allowed to fail because that means the whole system fails.\" he said in a resigned tone.\n\nSuddenly,my stomach curled up into a ball. I started sweating profusely. \"What does that mean, Sir ? \" I asked. \n\nThree uniformed men barged into the room accompanied by Ms.Agnes, Carruthers' secretary. \"Is this the mark ?\" asked the imposing man in the middle. Carruthers nodded.\n\n\"Sir, please sir,...\"\n\n\"I'm sorry Daniel.\" he said in a low voice, and just as he said it, there was a black bag over my head.\n\nAs I was dragged away from the room, the last words I heard were \"Poor Ellie. Her other brother tried the same thing three years ago. She has no one left now. Madness runs in the family. \"", "*clunk* This wasn't the first time Eddie had sat in this corridor.\n\n*clunk* Eddie had become well accustomed to this routine over the past 5 years.\n\n*clunk* The same four chairs sat against the wall; hard, blue, plastic, and cheap.\n\n*clunk* Eddie looked up from his fidgeting hands at the over-sized clock that adorned the wall opposite from him, it was five minutes to three.\n\n*clunk* The clock sat between two floor to ceiling windows, also between which sat a woman of indeterminable middle age. As she looked down carefully at each character she pushed with an index finger, Eddie noticed the grey roots peering through her dry sun damaged brown hair.\n\n*clunk* To his right was a solitary door. A frosted glass panel in the upper half obscured the opposition. All that could be seen was the shadow of his adversary; Principle Fielding, it read in thick, bold capitals.\n\n*clunk* Eddie had liked to brag to his classmates that the Principle knew him by name. In a school of over two thousand pupils, this was some feat. Eddie took his notoriety to be a compliment of how daring his behavior was. How he challenged those who tried to make him do what everyone else wanted.\n\nWhen he had locked the physics teacher, Mr. Benson, in the store room he had sat in this hard blue seat for nearly twenty minutes waiting for the blustery fool to shout at him.\nOnce, after scaling the walls of the English department he had only waited for seven.\nEven the time he had sneaked into the changing rooms and put the whole football teams uniforms into the showers had he waited thirty six minutes (that included the time it took for his mother to arrive).\n\n*click* - *creak* - *clunk* As he stared down the principles door, it opened. He shuffled in his seat as he prepared to enter the maw.The footsteps came first; slow, methodical, rhythmic, soft.\n\nDark brown Italian leather met Eddie's gaze. His eyes traveled up the slim fitting navy blue trousers. They passed the thin leather belt with a simple buckle. Upward onto the plain, un-creased white cotton shirt. Open at the neck, the only other detail was the matching blue jacket draped over his right arm. At the head of this clean cut ensemble was a man maybe no older than Thirty-five.\n\nFor all his experience, this was something that surprised Eddie. The man took seven measured strides till he was just two feet away from Eddie, who's gaze had returned to his toecaps. The mans feet made a soft sigh as the toes pivoted to face the clock.\n\n*ssshhhhhh* \n\n*clunk*\n\nNoiselessly the man floated into the seat next to Eddie.\n\n\"Edward Partridge, the principal will see you now\". The secretaries voice cut through Eddie, his voiced looked up at the source of the noise, then at the clock. Three O'Clock.\n\nHe stood up and trudged toward Principle Fielding, nine steps and he was at the door. Three more and he was inside, facing him.\n\n\"Close the door Partridge\". Eddie did as he was told. This part had been well rehearsed. He made his was toward the desk and lowered himself into the seat facing his sparring partner for the past five years. For it had been a battle for Eddie. He always had to push those above him. He wasn't angry, he was too smart to be angry, but he resented that things never fell into place for him. That he deserved good things by sheer merit of the fact that he got it, he understand how this all worked.\n\n\"Edward\", began the Principle, \"Do you know why you are here?\". Eddie shrugged. He didn't need to fight, he didn't need to argue, they were only words. What use would words be now.\n\n\"One Hundred and four years ago, we finally accomplished the ultimate goal. We were now able to synthetically reproduce any substance in any molecular order that we had ever seen or could dream of. That machine in your basement Eddie, the machine in everyone's basement, as I am sure you are aware is where you get your food from, your clothes, anything you can think of. Truly remarkable.\"\n\nEddie looked up at the old man sat across from him. Grey at the temples, and wearing his olive colored suit today with a brown shirt. One of four color combinations Eddie could recall seeing him in. But something was different in his tone this time, he could sense it. His voice seemed to lack the frustration and reprimanding vocabulary that usual assaulted him within his first minute.\n\n\"Well Edward, before the machine people used to go to school. They would learn about science, about maths, about geography, much like you do today. But why? Well they used to be able to sort people by how suitable they were for a vocation. The machine got rid of this. People didn't need to work anymore, why work when then machine could make all they needed. Even after the first machine, it cost nothing to make the next machine.\"\n\nEddie sat there, he now looked at the principle like a child hearing a nursery rhyme. Why was he telling him this?\n\n\"So what use was it for people to find jobs now they could have anything they wanted Eddie?\"\n\nEddie? Hearing the principle call him Eddie startled him. All he could do was listen.\n\n\"Well, society still needs well adjusted individuals that are able to work for the good of the group. Jealousy, poverty, envy .... it all disappeared after the machine. We had earned the right to a life of luxury, all of us. But sometimes people need some guidance you see. Robert Mitchem had shown us in Twenty-Sixty-Two that the young adult was perfectly fit into society with just the minimum of guidance until the age of sixteen.\"\n\nEddie's mouth was dry, he needed some air in it. It was his time to talk.\n\n\"Well sir, is that what this test is for .... the one in two weeks?\" quizzed Eddie.\n\n*clunk*\n\n\"No Mr. Partridge. That is merely the full stop in the young persons academic career. The 'test' as you call it has already taken place. The last 365 days have been your test Edward.\"\n\nWhat did this mean?\n\n\"Mr Partridge, it has been my pleasure to know you for the past five years. You have already brought me more acclaim than I should ever have imagined.\"\n\nAt this point the principle stood up, he rounded his desk until he was alongside Eddie. He stretched out his hand so that the cuff pulled up slightly, exposing a shiny silver watch.\n\n\"Edward. A man is waiting outside. You are to go with him now.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry\"\n", "\"I remember when I was first given this test. It seemed like a joke. I was going to intentionally do bad on it. But then I remembered why it needed to be done. This test determines your future. It tells you what you are good at, and what you want to be. From there, the government helps the students go into the career it chooses. But that doesn't mean you have to go that way. It's harder, yes. But you can do whatever you want to do.\" The principal looked back at me. He had been pacing through his speech for the whole past ten minutes. I leaned forward. \n\"You done, sir?\" He moved over to my side of his desk and pointed at the test. \n\"You must take this seriously. Now, we've had students like you before, and with a little encouragement, we've managed to get them to pass the test. However, if I process this now, you will fail. Is that what you want?\" I looked down at the test. The only writing on the test was my name. The rest of the document was blank apart from the questions. \n\"What if my answer was yes?\" The principal stood up and walked back to his chair. \n\"If that is the case, you will need to be eliminated.\" I stood up quite quickly, knocking the chair to the ground. \n\"Excuse me?\" \n\"There is a hidden law that only High Education officials are to know. Anyone that fails the test is to be eliminated. It's harsh, I know. But then again, we haven't had to do this in over a century.\" I started backing away towards the exit. \"Of course, if you wish to try the test again, now is your chance.\" I didn't want to die, but something in the back of my mind was telling me I shouldn't do the test. \n\"I'm sorry, but I can't.\" The principal stood. He pushed a button on his desk and I could hear the lock move in the door behind me. \n\"That's what I thought. You want to know a secret about this test? There's actually a secret code in the questions. It makes certain people not want to touch it. Certain people, like you. Humans. This world is no longer yours. You may have been able to hide your humanity, but we always find your kind.\" The principal moved towards me till we were face to face. \"Sorry, kiddo. This is our world now.\"", "I was called into the office, and faced a stern principle. They handed me the test for graduation. All the red ticks on the answer sheet indicated wrong answers, and the entire sheet practically was red in my eyes. I had failed, he said. \n\n\"Do you have an excuse, Peterson?\" he asked softly.\n\nI scratched my head nervously. I knew the answers. I was filling in the answers correctly. There was no possible way to fail unless I..\n\nI did. Oh god fuck me I did.\n\n\"I missed a question and filled in the test wrong, sir.\" I stammered.\n\nThe principal narrowed his eyes, and took my sheet to compare with another sheet. Sure as day, he noticed that I had accidentally skipped over question #11, and if I had pushed all my answers a question down, I would have gotten a near-perfect score.\n\nFucking scantrons.", "\"Principal Riley?\" you ask shyly as your head peeks through the door. \"You wanted to see me?\"\n\n\"Yes, come in. Have a seat.\"\n\nYou enter the principal's office. Walking to the chair you notice everything that surrounds you. All the plaques that scatter the wall, degrees, trophies, hunting souvenirs...\n\nYou were already intimidated by being called to the principal, but now, after seeing everything that seemingly makes who this principal actually *is*, fear starts to take hold. Principal Riley seems to be a person that doesn't mess around; if he wants something, he acquires it. He's the third smartest person in the state. Not just book smarts, but streets smarts as well. A tough ol' bastard, he served in the military for ten years before settling down in education.\n\n'I'm so screwed', you think to yourself as you ease into the big, soft, yet uncomfortable, chair. 'Is it really all that serious?'\n\n\"We try to make things simple.\" Principal Riley said. \"We have always wanted our students to be the best and the brightest. For a little over a hundred years, we have never had a problem. Unfortunately, now, we do. It is indeed a small problem, but a problem nonetheless.\"\n\n\"Principal Riley!\" you begin, \"I don't understand why I'm here!\" You quickly realize that you might've made a mistake. Speaking to your elders isn't exactly punishable, but is looked down upon. Your fear diminishes for a second, comes back, but you quickly regain your confidence.\n\n\"I know that the test is made especially easy. I know it's more or less something the school has to do to get approval ratings from the Board. It can be seen as a laughable after-thought and dismissed just as quickly. But why? Why am I being reprimanded for doing something that isn't really wrong? I know I got all the answers right. A baby could do it. I mean, take question number one: 'What color is an apple?' I mean, come on! The test was ridiculously easy! What have I done?\"\n\nHe let's you finish your rant. He takes in everything you had just said and swirls it around in his head. He reaches in his desk and takes out a paper and places it in front of you. You see that it is your test, the test you took two days ago. The only difference is there's a huge red **FAIL** stamped across it. The principal points his finger down to the upper right hand corner of the test.\n\n\"If it was so easy, why didn't you write the date?\"", "Another year, another test. Only this time was different. This was the first time the test was being verified.\n\nThe Major General stood behind the wall-screen. Through the innumerable pixels, he had an unobstructed view of the testing room. 30 students sat in 30 desks. Well, actually 32 desks, since someone had ordered more than necessary. But whatever, the number of desks was unimportant. \n\nHe considered pacing. He nearly fidgeted. But he had learned to control his habits and nervous actions long ago. Instead he stood at attention in a room full of scientists and technology, recording everything. He kept a close eye on a particular student.\n\n* * *\n\nI'd never heard of the test being redone. I didn't believe the teacher or the administrators. No one had cheated. Everyone passed this test; everyone knew it was so ridiculously easy to pass that they'd never even consider cheating.\n\nI stopped letting myself get distracted and continued. The questions were different, and they were harder. Not particularly difficult still - the answers came into my mind almost unbidden it seemed. And honestly, I'm not sure where I even heard these things before. But it must be common knowledge that the United Defense Force had a Special Projects division (current leader: Major General Rockwell, secret ballet enthusiast with his wife, and connoisseur of Italian food). It seemed equally obvious that they were in charge of the test.\n\nEach question was obvious like that one. His classmate's mother was of course a widow who lost her husband in a terrible accident. His best friend's sister naturally had six toes at birth but had lost it some years later. Mr. Shan was clearly from the Philippines but lied on his immigration papers when we were at war with them over their independence. These seemed like much more esoteric questions about these people than last time.\n\nI filled in the bubbles on the old fashioned test. A. C. F. G. A. B. D. And so it went. I wondered in passing why we weren't using electronic tabulators this time. They wanted to make sure we weren't accessing the Net.\n\nThe last few questions were a bit weird, but they must have told me the answer before coming in the door. I tended to ignore what people were saying, but that never stopped me from remembering. So I filled in B. There were 7 scientists next door. And for the last question, D. Two were named Fred Hill, though not related.\n\nI finished nearly about the same time as everyone else. I stood up, walked to the teacher's desk, and handed him my test. \n\nHe was running everyone's papers through the scanner. He ran them all but mine. All green lights from the device. He stood up and announced, \"Okay, you may all leave. Except for Robert here.\" The other students stood up and made their way out, a few jokes at my expense being tossed my way.\n\nI knew he hadn't run mine yet, and I wondered why. Clearly they knew I had failed the test with the others. Wait, what? I failed? I knew I got every answer correct. And the teacher knew it too. The other students had all randomly chosen answers because they didn't have any way to know the right ones.\n\nI suddenly realized I was not supposed to get any of those questions correct.", "The last week of the first half of my senior year of high school is devoid of anything even remotely educational. All that we discuss, all that we do, all that anyone even has time for, are the OCATs. 'O' for 'omni', like a bad science fiction story. 'C' for 'career', 'A' for 'aptitude', and 'T' for 'the rest of your life', er, I mean 'test'. Everyone places a huge importance on it, because it determines where you fit in after high school--whether you get shipped off to medical school to become a doctor, or enlisted straight into the military, or whisked in front of a computer, or sentenced to become a trophy wife, barbie doll stripper, stewardess... Ugh.\n\nSure, I studied. I admit to that. Everyone studies for the OCATs. And now the principal's called me into the office to explain to me just how bad I did, that I somehow managed to bomb the OCATs, apparently to become the first person to do so in something like 100 years.\n\nGo me.\n\nI stroll through the lobby. The secretary is at her desk clacking away. She looks up at me then back at her monitor, breaking her typing stride for just a moment. There's a man sitting in a chair waiting, holding a suitcase in his lap, wearing a suit and a nervous expression. I go into the principal's office and close the door.\n\n\"Kendall...\" the principal begins. She holds up an envelope. \"I have your OCAT results here, and, well...\"\n\n\"I failed,\" I say. I like being blunt.\n\n\"Well...\"\n\n\"That's why the other students get theirs in their classroom, and I get to come down here to talk about it.\" I cross my arms.\n\nShe forces a smile. \"You know how important the OCAT is for your future. You have your whole career ahead of you. I can hardly imagine a smart girl like you doing so poorly, on all metrics.\" She hands me the envelope. It's still sealed; the school has the results on the computer, of course. I open it and scan down the page. I got the minimum possible score on six sections, 2 points in three others. A statistical unlikelihood. And I'd left the essay blank. It would have made the test harder to bomb as a whole had I answered it at all, but leaving it blank made it rather obvious what I'd been trying to do.\n\nThe principal speaks as I read. \"Kendall, the Oxcar admins--\" [Oxcar, the company that produced the OCAT] \"--came to the same conclusion we did. You intentionally failed. Not cheated, but intentionally failed.\" She clasps her hands together and shifts in her seat, leaning toward me. \"They told me there's only one thing they can do now, and they've sent Mr. Riley here today to explain that to you.\" She pauses. \"I'm going to bring him in now, if that's okay.\"\n\nShe walks around the desk, opens the door, and invites the nervous man inside. He steps inside, murmurs a greeting, gives a weak handshake, and sets his briefcase on her desk. \"Thank you, Mrs. Lu. I'm afraid this needs to be a private conversation between me and Ms. Roulska.\" The principal nods and escapes the office.\n\nThe Oxcar rep smiles at me again and half-sits on the edge of the desk. \"My name is Jed. May I call you Kendall?\"\n\nI shrug. \"Sure, why not. So what's going to happen to me?\"\n\n\"Ah,\" he says, scratching his head. \"You want the short version. Well, the short of it is that we have to test you again. We usually reserve re-testing for students with abnormal results, that is, where the aptitude measurements disagree with each other, or for the students who did so well in all sectors we have to give them a more precisely calibrated test.\"\n\nI groan and put my face in my hands. \"You mean I have to sit through that thing again? It was murder the first time!\" Three 3-hour sessions, with only minor breaks in between.\n\nJed laughs. \"No, no, Kendall, nothing like that. For one, it's a take-home test instead of tightly proctored.\" He opens his suitcase and pulls out a large manila envelope, handing it to me. \"This is one of the tests we might give to the more talented students; I have to ask you not to talk about it. Work on it over the weekend--over winter break if you need more time--and I'll pick it up whenever you're finished.\"\n\n\"Yeah, okay.\" I flip it over, glance at the instructions for printing my name, sealing the envelope, all the good stuff. It was the same kind of envelope we used during the actual OCATs. Jed's name and ID number were printed as the proctor.\n\n\"For another,\" Jed says, \"it's really short.\"\n\nI pull out the one sheet of paper inside. It is blank aside from a single line near the top, a simple open-ended question: \"What do you want to be?\"", "\"Todd Harriet, please come down to the principal's office immediately.\" I heard on the intercom during 3rd hour.\n\nI looked around. I was normally relaxed 3rd hour, because math was my best subject. I got up out of my chair. No one seemed to care. Everyone was focused on today's worksheet, which I finished quickly. I just walked out the door. I looked behind me, no one cared that I left. I walked down the stairs and out to the courtyard toward the office. I walked past a few students, and they gave me very blank, icy stares. I was fairly popular, and my name was blasted over the intercom. I thought I was being commended for a good deed or something. I walked into the front office, and everyone was glaring at me. I sat down in the principal's office. He wasn't there but I assumed he went to grab something of importance. He came in the room with a blank expression and a vanilla folder. \n\n\"So, Todd. You know the test we took a week ago?\" Principal Garret asked.\n\n\"Yeah, it was really easy.\" I answered.\n\n\"Well, as you know, to graduate and move on to university you have to at least pass on every subject on this test.\" He said.\n\n\"Yeah, what happened? Did I get an amazing grade on all of them?\" I asked with a little grin on my face.\n\n\"Well, yes, but on the mathematics portion, you scored a 34 out of 100 possible points.\" He said.\n\n\"What? How is that possible? Math is my best subject.\" I said with a dropped jaw.\n\n\"Well, yes, I know. But here it is plain as day, that you failed the mathematics portion of this test.\" He said while pointing at the numbers.\n\n\"But... I... What does this mean?\" I asked.\n\n\"This hasn't happened in 100 years. The rules explicitly state, you must be demoted to the lower class tier.\" He said.\n\n\"But my parents are of high class tier. If I go down to the lower tier, I lose everything. Even my right to call myself their son.\" I insisted.\n\n\"Well, there is nothing I can do. My hands are tied here Mr. Harriet.\" He responded.\n\n\"This can't happen Mr. Garret! I can't live with lower tier people!\" I argued.\n\n\"Sorry, but you must be removed. Guards?\" He said.\n\n\"NO! NO! NO!\" I screamed.\n\n*AH!*\n\nI woke up suddenly. My heart was racing faster than a brand new sports car. I looked around myself, endless papers and books. I think I was studying for the test. I need to study now, don't want to be demoted. I grabbed my calculus book, not a single paged touched. I opened it and studied\n\nChapter 1 The Numbers and What They Mean. ", "I sit nervously in the waiting room look around me rubbing my arm. It's still a little sore from the test yesterday. I know there wasn't much to it, but it's still affecting me. The school secretary is hitting away at the keys of her computer, glancing over at me every so often. Honestly, she doesn't look a day over thirty, so I'm stealing glances at her when she isn't looking. The door to the principal's office suddenly opens startling me. \n\n\"I don't want to hear about why you started a fight with your teacher, just go back to class and apologize.\" The principal said to the underclassman being ushered out the door. \"Ah.\" The principal exclaimed, looking at me, \"Mr. Sanders, please come in.\" I noticed that the secretary whispered something to the principal as I made my way to his door. Stealing one last glance at the secretary, I noticed the plaque on her desk read *Beth Roberts*. She saw me staring and smiled. \n\n\"Close the door behind you, will you Eric?\" The principal said to me, sitting at his desk. I closed the door and took a seat on the other side of the desk at his request. \"Now, do you know why you are here today?\" He gave me a quizzical look. Much like the secretary, the principal was actually a fairly young looking man, probably in his thirties. He didn't give off an angry or intimidating demeanor so I couldn't understand why I was there. During the summer no less. \"No, I didn't even realize you could get me after graduation.\" I said without thinking.\n\nThe principal just laughed at me, not realizing I wasn't making a joke. \"Well, I'll tell you why you're here.\" He said, his voice becoming more playful. \"Your classmates are dead.\" \n\nIt took me a second to realize what he said. \"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"Your classmates are dead and you are the only one left alive. That is why you're here.\" He said smiling. \n\n\"Principal Morty.\" I began, \"I don't-\"\n\n\"Please call me Daniel.\" He said cutting me off.\n\n\"I don't understand... They died? All of them? How?\"\n\n\"Well... Yes, they died. Yes, all of them. We killed them. By we I mean the administrators.\"\n\n\"Administrators? Of what?\"\n\n\"The test Eric, the test that was administered. You know, the one making you rub your arm. That test!\" He exclaimed jovially.\n\n\"What the fuck!\" I yelled, standing up from my seat quickly. \"What the hell was that test! It killed all of my classmates? All of my friends? Why would there be such a test?\"\n\n\"It's a mortality test, and you failed. All of your friends however, passed. You are the first one in a very, very long time to fail. I welcome you to the club.\" Daniel stood up and opened his arms as if he were going to embrace me.\n\n\"Put your arms down! What is this mortality test?\" I yelled, more enraged at how lightly he took my classmates' deaths than the deaths themselves.\n\n\"Alright, I will tell you everything.\" Daniel sat down and gestured me to do the same. I reluctantly did so. \"Good, now let me explain. You see, the mortality test was implemented thousands of years ago to test for immortals. The most recent before you being Miss Elizabeth Roberts. You know her as the attractive secretary outside of my office. You are living in a world filled with immortals. Everyone younger than you will most likely be dead by the time they finish graduating high school. Of course, it'll be a week after the test is administered. However, once every couple of hundred years, an immortal will be born. The immortal will not be affected by the test and at the most,\" he said gesturing at my arm, \"your arm will get a little sore. Any questions?\"\n\nI sat there in awe at all the information given to me before saying, \"What the fuck! How can you do this to people?\"\n\n\"They were weak Eric, simple evolutionary failures. We immortals however, you, me, Miss Roberts, your parents, all of the adults you know, we are the elite beings in the universe. All of them approve of this.\" The principal said calmly, as if he had been through this hundreds of times before. \"It's shocking at first, but before long all of your friends will be nothing but a minor part in your infinite life. You will get used to it, I promise\" He smiled again.\n\n\"But what about their parents? Won't they be upset their kids are dead?\" I asked feeling my resistance getting weaker.\n\n\"They have had hundreds of kids who have gone through the same deal. They grow up to become seniors in high school, die, and repeat. Over and over again. Any final questions?\" He asked.\n\n\"Just one more.\" I asked, feeling the aggression leave my body, \"Why do you call it a mortality test and not an immortality test?\"\n\n\"That's because if we called it an immortality test, then most people would fail. They probably wouldn't want the last thing they know before they die be that they failed. So we tell them they pass and all immortals fail. Thus, the reasoning for the name!\" He said with enthusiasm. \n\nI got up to leave when he called out one last time. \"Ah yes, Eric, I have one last thing for you.\" I turned around to see his hand moving under his desk. The sound of paper shuffling came out. He lifted his hand to reveal a rolled up piece of paper. Extending his arm out and smiling he said, \"Congratulations on graduating, you have your whole life ahead of you.\"", "\"Finally,\" my principal said.\n\n*Finally?*\n\n\"For a century this test had been implemented. Thousands, if not millions, of people have taken it. The brightest and the dimmest, the gentlest and the coarsest. I-\"\n\nPrincipal McGuire dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief; he was incredibly nervous. His near-panic state wasn't helping assuage my fleet of worries.\n\n\"Canton Fields, you are the first individual in one hundred years to fail the Final Equivalency Exam. And I am immensely proud of you. Have you ever wondered as to why it is called the 'Equivalency Exam', Canton?\"\n\nMy thoughts tumbled as if they were in a clothes dryer. Reaching my hand into that chaotic place and snatching the first thought that fell into my hand, I stammered,\n\n\"N-not really, sir. But wh-\"\n\nPrincipal McGuire interjected.\n\n\"Shh, Canton. All will be revealed soon enough. I've not much time to explain to you what your failure means,\" he formed apostrophes with his fingers around the word 'failure', \"but I believe I will manage.\"\n\nHe removed his ovoid glasses and folded them gingerly, placing them on his desk with trembling fingers. I looked towards my lap and at my hands; they matched his resonance. Our vibrating bodies could burrow into the ground if we continued.\n\n\"Canton, your failure is the first. And that makes you different. Different than every other human being that has received an education from the United Earth Government. You are probably an anxious, nervous wreck. I am too, as you can see. But I assure you, you are in no trouble, young friend. None at all.\"\n\nMy eyes met his, my hands gripped the armrests of the chair that I was drenching with sweat.\n\n\"You have failed a test that every human being is adept at, and that elevates you above everyone else. This test was designed to single out the one person who could rise above the masses, who could be so vastly different that they would stand alone. Land guides the river, Canton. An island parts the flow. You are that island, Canton.\"\n\nHe made no sense. Absolutely none. I was desperate to ask questions, but every attempt to raise my hand or voice was met with a \"shh\".\n\nPrincipal McGuire looked out of the window, past the trees and cars and into the horizon.\n\n\"This is confusing, for you and I both. I had never imagined that I would be the one to meet th-\"\n\nHis voice trailed off and his eyes spoke of a mind that was far away.\n\nHe snapped his gaze back to mine. \n\n\"My apologies,\" he said after clearing his throat. \n\nHe made to begin speaking again, but the hum of a flotilla of vehicles emerged within our hearing range.\n\nMy eyes bore into him, beseeching an answer. He smiled feebly.\n\n\"**What is going on?! Tell me, PLEASE!**\"\n\nI then saw numerous cars of varying shapes and sizes glide into the parking lot. In the distance, helicopters sliced through the air towards the school. Towards me.\n\nPrincipal McGuire stood up, swallowed hard, and emitted a trembling voice,\n\n\"Canton, your destiny awaits.\"\n\nHe strode to the door and opened it." ]

[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 14, 48 ]

[ "1405499891", "1405518328", "1405523587", "1405534401", "1405492689", "1405497911", "1405491240", "1405495090", "1405492085", "1405489367", "1405497796", "1405488870" ]

[ "\"But you could be *saving the world!*\" said Anchor, looking exasperated with me yet again. \"With your abilities, you would do so much good!\"\n\nAnchor, the most famous of us Supers, was so named because everyone in the world relied on him. He was everything people aspired to be, the epitome of the word \"superhero,\" along with the rest of his Tier 1 team, the Guardians.\n\n\"I do enough good here,\" I replied, as I always have. \n\nHe shook his head. \"Your skills are wasted here. *Wasted.*\" With that he flew off. \n\nI shook my head and waved my hand at the rubble on the street, rubble that had once been homes and landmarks. The people who had been cleaning their former residences all watched as everything lifted into the air.\n\nIt was brief, the glimpse into their minds-I never want to be too invasive- but it was enough to show me what all of the homes had once looked like.\n\nUsing my gift of telepathy, it only took a few moments for things to be restored. \n\nThe tier 1 guys didn't get it. They saw their actions as saving the world-and that was fine for them. They saw the forest, but not the trees.\n\nMe? When I used my abilities, I could see lives, memories... everything. I could lift things with a thought. I could see *why* the world was worth saving.\n\nI worked for the people, helped them with what was dear to them, and I could feel their gratitude for it. \n\nWho needs to be tier 1 famous when you can feel that gratitude every time you help save a life that people thought gone in the latest fight? \n\nSmiling, I nodded to the people thanking me and began to move to the next area that needed my aid.", "Ah, they were at it again. Tank and Deathmask never could have a calm discussion, and, as I stood on the top of the water tower about six miles out of town, I got a pretty good view of their attempt at working through whatever disagreement they fabricated this time. I wonder if Deathmask gave another one of his rousingly depressing speeches about morality and futility again, or if Tank woke up wrong and just decided to pick a fight. I guess I would find out soon enough.\n\nI watched as Tank grabbed ahold of Deathmask’s cape and flung him into the side of a cinderblock bank two blocks down. The smaller man slid out of the crater he left in the side of the building and slumped into the rubble. Seconds later he jerked upright, like a marionette, and began stumbling his way back to his opponent.\n\n*“Why do you build me up (build me up) Buttercup, baby, just to let me down…”*\n\nPhone! I started patting myself down, starting with my back pockets, moving towards the front and then up to my bra. Empty. Phone, phone, phone…where did I put that?\n\n*“…and mess me around, and then worst of all (worst of all) you never call, baby, when you say you will…”*\n\nRight! I left my bag down by the fence when I heard the beginnings of Tank and Deathmask’s fight. With a little hop I jumped off the side of the tower and landed, softly, at its base. My phone was still singing when I finally found which pocket it was hiding in.\n\n“Ms. Breeze, at your service.”\n\n“Really, Bree, you should consider changing your name. It’s laughable.”\n\nI smiled into the phone, not replying to Edge’s comment. Of course my name was silly. That’s what happens when there you just don’t care. “Is this about Tank and Deathmask?”\n\nHe let out a long, martyred sigh. “Always. You’re part of the team cleaning up District 7. Meet Bauble, Max, and Re-Do on the corner of Milbrook and Main.”\n\n“Alrighty!” Disctrict 7! I loved District 7. All the kids come out and play when we go over there, and there’s an elderly home that’s in the area…hopefully nothing too bad has happened. Ever since supers have made themselves known and fought their epic battles in major cities, I’ve been on the clean-up crew and have been slowly rebuilding all of the buildings. It took a while, but I eventually convinced everyone that cement and cinderblock homes were the safest bet, even if it did make our city look more like a military compound than a bustling metropolis.\n\n“Bree.”\n\nAh, that tone again.\n\n“Stop asking, Edge.”\n\n“I will when you give me a real answer. Your powers are just as good as Tank’s, if not far more useful. Why do you keep sticking yourself on clean-up crews? You know The League has been asking about you again.”\n\nI turned back towards the city and watched as Deathmask fell on Tank like a ton of bricks. The big lug was too muscle-bound to get out of the way quickly enough. The asphalt rippled up and around them, shattering the roads and weakening the foundation of nearby buildings. “Because someone has to help the people, not just look like they are.” So many homes and businesses have been ruined by the super battles. So many families displaced. I worked the jobs only the weak supers could get so that I could actually help the people of my city. Food drives for those who lost their jobs, shelters for those who lost their homes, clinics for those injured by the debris…that was where I needed to be. I didn’t need a super cool codename for a kickass suit for that, and the people seemed to like me more for it.\n\nSo I was Ms. Breeze, City Worker. My superhero outfit was a ratty blue jumpsuit and some worn-out boots. It might not have been as flashy as Deathmask’s black, white and red spandex, but it made me smile every morning when I put it on.\n\n“If you say so, Bree. You better get going. Bauble’s getting anxious.”\n\n“On my way!” I tossed the phone back into my bag, threw it over my shoulder, and jumped into the sky, catching the breeze back into town.\n" ]

[ 2, 2 ]

[ "1405541766", "1405541978" ]

[ "The flames seemed to blaze so high they licked the night sky. It was a gentle spring dawning, especially significant of new adventures. Every year at this cycle of the sun the children were prepared. Since they had been born they were trained in the art of trappings, stealth, stalking, tracking, and most importantly how to subdue a creature and force them to obey. The culmination of training led to this; the Rite of Passage. In order to become a normal full fledged Human and move towards a full life one must first go through the Rite. The drums sounded slowly in a constant steady beat. Chanting from the Elders could be heard as if offering prayers for a successful hunt. The Children came forth in military fashion; all in uniformed steps, all expressionless, and seemingly like puppets on strings. This was their Rite. This was what they have been training their whole young juvenile life, and yet nothing. No one was anxious; no one was excited; no one was angry, fearful, overwhelmed, in fact no one felt anything at all.\n\n“Welcome Children! Welcome to your night! Although you cannot feel it just yet- this night is the beginning of everything for you!” The Tribal Elder boomed his powerful words over the crackle of the flames and the drums seemed to almost diminish to a small tapping. The chants became hums as the Leader continued.\n\n“This marks your first step into a new world. This Hunt is significant in that it is never ending. You will continue to sharpen your skills and continue to hunt newer creatures. In doing this you will learn new things and feel new things. This night is important because it marks your first! What creature you catch first determines your fate. It will determine how you will survive in this world, good or bad. Now go! And do not return until you captured three creatures!” \n\nThey were brothers- Regulus and Teremus from birth. They decided the most effective way was to hunt together. Into the woods they went. Once far enough away from the village, the brothers set up camp and prepared their traps. Almost immediately they heard a rustle behind them. Instincts took over and the brothers fell to the ground. Regulus nodded to Teremus and the two separated. Regulus scales a nearby tree and Teremus circles the beast. No fear, no hesitation; it was almost methodical how the two worked in unison. Not quite approaching the beast Teremus throws a large rock forcing the it towards Regulus. Regulus immediately falls onto the beast. A small whine and bark was released as the scared beast fell to the ground. \n\n“A marvelous beast you have caught brother!” Teremus nods in improvement. \n\n“Thank you brother… It appears as though we have caught a dog.” Regulus done as he was taught and scratched the creature behind the ear until it yielded. They were told that these beasts were a natural Human companion. \n\n“Alas brother you are ahead of me in the Hunt… Animals only pass on their trait once… Unless we find this dog’s companion we will have to Hunt for another beast that I may catch up.” Teremus explained nonchalantly. \n\nWith a nod and a thump to his chest Regulus rejoiced, “No worries brother, I vow that we shall not rest until you have gathered your beasts. I shall not leave your side nor shall I work any less hard.”\n\nThe day passes and the brothers make their way the river. Teremus jumps in leaving his brother behind. Swimming he notices a small cave and makes his way towards it. Exploring he sees a couple of small creatures scurrying about on the floor in fright. They are too quick on their feet and too small… before he is able to reach down to snatch at the tiny creatures they have already scurried into the cracks and walls of the cave. Teremus moves on and the feeling of disappointment never even crosses his mind. \n\nUnknown to him he steps in the wrong spot. It appears there is another hunter in the area. A sharp bite to his ankle and Teremus falls down. He can feel something sliding up his leg. Reacting quickly he knocks the creature away stumbling and stumbles towards the entrance. Regulus awaits him.\n\n“Are you all right brother? I am sorry I was not with you! I should have been there,” Regulus says with a sense of loyalty to his injured brother.\n“It is nothing Brother but I shall need your help before I loose feeling in my leg.” \n\nBandaged up and splint in place, Regulus wraps Teremu’s arm around his shoulder and helps him back to camp. Teremus stops Regulus and points to a trap that has been sprung. \n\nA white feathered creature is in side, its appendages beating the air in effort to get out. Regulus sets Teremus down and runs forward to the creature. \n\nTeremus looks towards his Regulus and this feeling comes over him. Why did I get bit and he did not? How is it that he gets the first creature and now this one? When shall I receive my dues? Are we not equal? We had the same training, we had the same mentality, and we both start this hunt equal. This is not right… I am injured… That creature should have gone to me! Teremus screams in his head. No… I will get my dues- I just have to wait… He shall soon know that what is his is mine, and what is mine is mine…\n\nRegulus removes the creature. He gently cups it in his hand nodding gently. He looks over to his brother and smiles. A new sense of accomplishment for the Brothers future plays in his head. Regulus and his brother will help each other. A bright beautiful feature will be accomplished and they will experience new emotions and grow into an All Feeling together. After all they started this journey together and they will end it together… right?\n", "There is a saying the children must recite every morning:\n\nYou cannot build a temple from the second floor.\nFirst comes the foundation.\nThe foundation are wariness.\n\nThe meaning is simple. You never capture anything before you capture a wariness. It is an undisputed fact that wariness is the most critical emotion to human survival, and that without it, you cannot have the caution to properly respect the hierarchy of emotions. Without it, you simply blunder through life, grasping whatever you can, and soon you will find yourself hopelessly imbalanced.\n\nI know this better than most. Better perhaps than all but the imbalanced themselves. You see, I work with them every day. The imbalanced are my patients.\n\nIf there is a God, he was merciful enough to make wariness abundant and easy to capture. Most capture one by their fourth year. However, if there is a God, he must also have a twisted sense of humor, for he saw fit to give us one emotion at birth. \n\nCuriosity.\n \nIsolation is often not enough to contain a toddlers endless desire to discover its new world. Sometimes an emotion slips past our protection, and they grasp something they shouldn't. \n\nA fear found its way into the cradle of one of my patients. The parents were too poor to protect it properly. The poor thing grabbed on like babies are inclined to do.\n\nBefore she entered our care and we sedated her, she had done nothing but cower in the corner of her room, crying and covering her face. Her parents force fed her as best they could. For three years. She was severely malnourished before we began treatment. She was always screaming too, but silently. She must have ruined her vocal cords in the first few days. Can you imagine? Knowing nothing but fear?\n\nIf there is a God, he must be incredibly strict. No one can capture an emotion for you, you must do it yourself. That poor girl's only hope is that a courage or a calm blunders into her arms someday. Nearly impossible, of course. Its well known that even calm are far more elusive than you would think, especially in the face of fear.\n\nI've been very fortunate. I've built my temple almost exactly to plan. In my adolescence I captured lust before shame (which, needless to say, was pretty embarrassing for everyone) but a few weeks later was able to rectify the situation. I've even been fortunate enough to come across a altruism, which is rare for my age, and I think is why I make such a good doctor.\n\nToday I'll be taking a man who captured pride before humility on a hunting trip. He hates the idea because he also had the misfortune of capturing a narcissism he mistook for a confidence. But he does have love and shame, and is willing to be dragged along for the sake of his family.\n\nIf there is a God...Never mind. Look at me rambling! I need to keep my cynicism in check. It's hard without serenity. I hope I catch it someday.", "He sits back in the armchair, face framed in smoke curling up from a pipe. Barely a hint of light pierces the gloom, all of it courtesy of a dying fire in the hearth. The flickering light casts moving shadows across his bony face, making it look more like a bleached skull than a human head.\n\nHe stares across the room, dark eyes smoldering with lifeless malevolence. He takes a long pull from his glass of whiskey, and at first a look of quiet contentment crosses his face. Just as suddenly it's gone. He slams the empty tumbler back down on his armrest.\n\nIt startles the creature. She lay on her side, shivering on the cold stone floor. Her lanky, dark green limbs were all curled up in a ball, and even that spindly tail of hers lay tightly cemented against her legs, tip wrapped about one ankle. The loud noise makes her reflexively scramble to her rear, hands protectively shielding her face. The rusty metal chains on her wrists and ankles clatter like pans in a sink. After a moment she relaxes and looks across the room at the armchair, blinking her bright yellow eyes. Her scaly lips tremble. She doesn't try wriggling out of her chains.\n\nShe knows better than that, by now.\n\nHe keeps his eyes fixed on the creature, face twisting with an equal mixture of desire and hatred. She was everything to him. *Everything*. All his life he sought her: through deepest jungle, across hottest sand, and into the darkest pits the world could know. She and hers were the stuff of legend. He knew from the moment he first learned of their existence that they could give him what he needed; they could make him whole.\n\nAnnie never put much stock in the tales, he remembered. That was a shame, especially when she decided that she couldn't go on his quest. He saw a woman at market the other day with two little kids in tow, and it made him think about her. He thought that woman looked happy, and he wondered if Annie was happy, too, wherever she was.\n\nBut, of course, how happy could she be? What did *she* know about 'happiness'?\n\nThen of course there was Stevens. Sure, he was a lifelong friend- much like a brother, in fact- but Stevens simply didn't understand, either. He *needed* that money to finance his expeditions into the wild; it was the only way he could ever find what he was looking for! And Stevens called it 'embezzlement'? No, he simply didn't understand. Stevens was quite the fool, in fact; as soon as he returned, creature in tow, he tried to pay Stevens a visit to show her off. Fool wouldn't even see him. He wouldn't even return his calls. Ridiculous!\n\nThe man absently pushes his whiskey glass away, and it tumbles to the stone floor, shattering. This makes the creature wince again, and as he rises out of his armchair she shies back, scooching across the floor until she's against the wall. He towers over her like a golem, lips curled, and he slowly beckons with one finger.\n\nThe creature balls herself up tighter. In response he thrashes her ear with a closed fist, then kicks her in the side. She crumples to one side, coughing in pain, and then he beckons with his finger, again. Whole body trembling, she slowly lifts her head up, eyes tightly shut. She exposes a small prong jutting from her forehead, like a unicorn's horn worn down to a ruddy nub.\n\nThe man smiles and reaches out for it. When he touches it he feels those wondrous waves washing over him, like warm sunshine bathed in honey.\n\nIt was the best way he could describe it, really.\n\nThe man's face turns warm and serene; his lips part and he closes his eyes, groaning with pleasure. After a moment he releases the creature's horn. Almost immediately that empty, cold sneer returns. He glares down at the creature, his eyes again lifeless.\n\nIt really was for the best that all those other fools let him be, he thought. They didn't understand. They *couldn't*. Fools like Annie and Stevens made for very poor company, indeed.\n\nNo: he had everything he needed, right here.\n\nThe man shuffles through the door. He looks back at the creature, now shivering on her side, again, huddling herself back into that protective ball. He grumbles out a few words to her:\n\n\"Until tomorrow, Ecstasy.\"\n\nHe slams the door; the locks click like nails driven into wood.\n\n\n", "Hate with it's glowing red eyes and sharp claws, Envy with it's rough green hue and gripping appendages, Greed a light gold with talons to secure itself, Lust with red plumage and wings to soar, Pride a brazen orange with white striping fancying themselves king, Apathy with it's dull grey hue and bored black eyes. All beings forced into domestication centuries ago. These creatures had been growing side by side with humans for centuries, they are our constant companions. Many families deal in the trade of these poor creatures, offering a cornucopia of creatures that you might see at the heels or on the shoulder of any number of people during your average day. Then there were families like my own, who specialized in the exotic. \n\nFrom birth my family had trained me to tread with no Emotion. It is largely unheard of for humans to stray from their Emotions even when at home, you see we need those bonds. Without a creature at one's side it becomes easy to forget yourself. Your mind will wander and slip, staying focused without an Emotion proves near impossible for many. It is for this reason that when a new member of our family is born they go without emotion for the first few years of life. Young ones are only capable of claiming simple emotions anyway, and all positively boring. Doing without is necessary to act as our business requires. \n\nMy family deals in Passions. They are stronger, more exotic, and infinitely more beautiful than a simple emotion. They range from love, to empathy, to forelorn. It has proven profitable for us to capture and tame these Passions so one with normal Emotions might bond with them. This is why we do without Emotions as children, so that when working to temper our Passions we can comfortably slip to cold, and calculating states if we lose control. It is also said in our family, that this state of mind allows to more easily bond with our houses Creature, Wisdom. \n\nOf course, to me this was all theory until today. I had been on many hunts, but never been given freedom to act on my own. I had never been given reign to try my hand at claiming a Passion of my own. Today, this was set to change. We had set off in the early morning, my mother, father, older brother, and I all rode matching ATVs out into the great Sand Sea. It was here that some of the worlds most sought passions roamed in the wild. Soon we spotted a heard of Wisdom. Great, large Creatures with their giant skulls and floppy ears, great white tusks, and grey wrinkled skin. There was no mistaking these Creatures for Emotions, it was plain for all to see that these were beings who moved with the power of Passions. \n\nWith it being our houses Creature, it had become tradition for one to attempt Wisdom as their first Passion, and so I knew that I would try my hand at the hunt today. As we drew near the herd, you could sense their unease. These were Passions, and they would not come easily or simply out of want. These were Wisdoms, and they would not bend to anyone. I knew that today I would finally claim a Passion.\n\nNear enough to approach on foot now, I quickly dismounted my vehicle and began to draw near these marvelous Creatures. I knew that any hesitation and my family members would quickly claim the strongest of the herd, so I moved to act. Standing on the outskirts of the group was the largest of the heard, a great lumbering beast with a scar running down his right flank and a tusk that had lost its point at some time. I could sense his strength, but strength is not the root of wisdom and I knew he was not the beast I came for. Near him to the left was a female, of nearly equal size. She had to have been one of the five largest in the herd of some thirty. Her skin was a softer grey than most, and made me think of heavy clouds fit to drop rain on land to bring good harvests. Her ears hung low, and as I watched she shook her head from side to side sending them flapping like the wings of a great flying Creature. When she finally settled, with a steady turn her eyes took me in.\n\nAs the Creature took my measure, it was plain to me that I had come here today for her, and I would not leave without. I gradually approached the herd, arms extended wide to show I meant no malice. As I progressed, my eyes stayed fixed on the Wisdom I now sought for myself, as she kept her own eyes fixed upon me. When I stood no more than ten paces from her, I stopped my advance. \n\nFor many years I had been working with Passions, but they had all been tempered and tested by my family before me. This was not even the first Wisdom I would ever connect with, but I could easily tell that this was different than all I had done before. This Passion was wild, and would not be made my own if it did not desire it. Still a mere ten paces away, I did what I had done in practice for years. I bent forward at the waist until my body was perpendicular with ground. To the Wisdom I exposed the back of my head, and began to wait. This Creature would take me in, and if she saw that I was worthy would come willingly. With silent anticipation my body resonated with tension. I waited for a count of five, ten, twenty, thirty. The Wisdom had made no move as of yet, and I resigned myself to rise and back away slowly. Once erect I saw that she still had her eyes fixated on me. Not wanting to startle her, I slowly inched my right heel back to begin my retreat. As my weight shifted onto that foot, the Wisdom saw my intent to leave. It was now that she finally began her advance to close the final gap. When she was near enough to touch, I reached out to stroke between her eyes the size of my fist. At my touch you could sense her growing comfort.\n\nWhen I felt the time had come, I touched my forehead to her own. In that instant when our flesh met, we became one and all that was myself and all that was this Wisdom merged to truly let me see why it was we sought these passions with such Desperation.", "The air was rank. Georgia had to cover her mouth and nose with her hand as she walked. The man in front of her made no such gesture, simply wrinkling his nose up in a way that made his mouth rankled. \n\n\"As you can see, our previous help was less than satisfactory.\" Georgia nodded to him, leaving her hand in place. She didn't want to show the disgusted expression on her lips. She had seen bad menageries before, but this was something new entirely. How long had it gone unattended?\n\n\"There are 21 of them in all.\" The man said. \"One of each. You will find they all have been labeled, so you should have no problems identifying them.\"\n\n\"Of course, sir\". She spread her fingers just enough to allow the words to pass through clearly. \"Which 4 are you missing?\"\n\nThe man's brow furrowed. \"Longing, Envy, Shame and Optimism.\" He stiffened. \"Not that I have any need for them, of course.\"\n\nGeorgia nodded. Envy and Shame were rarely collected. Longing and Optimism were exceptionally expensive, and she was sure Mr. Cline had never caught an Emotion on his own.\n\n\"No, sir, absolutely. Your collection is grand.\"\n\nThe pair came to a halt at one of the great black cages and Georgia turned to look inside. At first the cage seemed empty, and she turned her attention to the placard fixed to the bottom-right.\n\n>Creature: Selynx \n\n>Emotion: Disappointment\n\n>Age: 3 years 4 months\n\nGeorgia found it fitting.\n\n\"Come here.\" She said softly through the bars, and made a few more small sounds against the cage. After a moment the Selynx popped it's head up out of its hiding place and peered over at her. It's eyes so big there was almost no room for its ears and fur so black it was nearly blue. It returned her cries softly and she stood back from the cage, satisfied.\n\nGeorgia saw Mr. Cline raise an eyebrow, but an instant later he was walking away. She hurried after him in silence, her hand still firmly planted against her face.\n\nAs they reached the door, the Mr. Cline held it open and she graciously stepped through. The smell dissipated immediately, and her hand dropped back to her side. Doing her best to keep her face calm, Georgia turned and looked Mr. Cline in the eye.\n\n\"I believe I can be of great assistance to you here, sir.\" Her breath caught in her throat. She feared her eagerness may burst out of her at any moment.\n\nThe man regarded her carefully. He pulled a watch from the pocket of his coat and gave an exaggerated sigh.\n\n\"I have my reservations, Ms. Lattersin,\" he said, \"but I find myself in quite a bind. Do you think you could begin tomorrow?\" Georgia's eyes lit up like fire and it took all of her power to nod slow.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Good. Return to the menagerie at 8AM, sharp. I expect the entire place cleaned and polished before dinner time tomorrow...\" He cleared his throat. \"I am expecting company.\" Georgia nodded again. \"Excellent. Charles?\" The gentleman's butler appeared as if from nowhere, and Georgia startled. \"Please escort Ms. Lattersin to the servant's quarters immediately. She's to be the new keeper.\" Charles nodded, and beckoned to Georgia with a gloved hand. \n\n\"Come, Misses. The quarters are this way.\" \n\nGeorgia curtsied, thanked the gentleman once more for his generosity, and hurried after the butler with a great grin across her face. It felt good to grin again, it had been so long since she'd been near enough to Cheer to make it work. \n\nThe butler showed her into a small room just off the kitchen. It had a bed, a desk, and a small closet. Georgia continued to grin like an absolute idiot, loving the way it made her face warm.\n\n\"We'll have the master's tailor in shortly to make you some new clothes.\" Charles grasped the door handle. \"Dinner tonight will be in the kitchen at 7. Is there anything else I can help you with, miss?\"\n\nGeorgia shook her head, setting her handbag gently on the bed. \"No, sir.\" The butler's face cracked a small smile at the word. \"Thank you very much.\"\n\nAs soon as the lock clicked, Georgia rushed to her bag and tore it open. Peeking inside, her heart leaped in her chest. \n\nOptimism hopped out onto her hand. The small bird looked into her smiling face with an intense curiosity and chirped. Georgia placed a finger to her lips, and brought the bird's glowing gold plumage against her face. It was soft and warm.\n\n\"Thank you.\" She whispered. \"For everything.\"", "Doctor Hane took out a clipboard and began to scribble,\n\nIDENTIFICATION ID: 000028\n\nCATEGORY: SORROW, FEAR, RAGE, JOY\n\nNAME: PRIDE\n\n'Er... Sir? May I ask, why this is this creature listed into all the categories? None of the other creatures are.'\n\n'Lad, look into this creature's eyes and tell me what you see.' Doctor Hane's voice was quiet, I felt an uneasiness from his words.\nI looked into the creature's eyes, decent sized pupils, dashing lips and nosepiece, all perfectly aligned. It's body exerted a strength, yet was lean. \n\n'It... looks... normal?'\nWhat was I thinking? Normal? What was normal, my head was saying it was human, we caught a human... by mistake? No, it couldn't be, this was a monster, a demon, we found it in the middle of the woods, smeared in blood, and smiling a sinister grin.\n\n'Ah, yes, perhaps, *Normal* can be a fitting name, can't it?.' Doctor Hane exclaimed.\n\n'Now then, *Pride*, may I call you that?'\n\n'Why, certainly, Doctor.' It responded. \nI felt my heart jolt, it spoke, it was different though, not like Self-Esteem, who we had caught few weeks prior.\n\n'Now you were in the woods, for what reason?'\n\nIt grinned and turned over to his shoulder, where it took a whiff,\n\n'Doctor, don't you love the smell of fresh blood?'\n\n'She was delicious, the finest gal you could have met.' It sneered.\nI felt my stomach cave, He-, no, It, It was an it, not a HE. It ate someone and it felt no remorse, it was... happy.\nDoctor Hane jotted something down, \n\nCREATURE EXHIBITS JOY THROUGH PAIN FROM OTHERS\n\nCREATURE EXHIBITS FEAR IN HIGH EGOTISTIC MANNER\n\nI looked at the second line, but how? How could have the Doc known? The creature was simply answering, was it not?\n\nThe doctor turned to me, 'You looked troubled'\n'Y-Yes, Doctor,' my voice trembled.\n\nI took a moment to clear my throat, 'How do you know he is fearful?'\n\n'Look at him lad, it's an act. It's afraid of my authority, we could just get on with it, whenever. Yet it's persisting to act mighty.'\n\n'What about rage, sir? I questioned the Doc's thought proccess sometimes.\n'Watch, watch closely.'\n\n'Now, Pride, you were in the woods with another creature, weren't you?'\n\n'Of course not, Doctor.'\n\n'Now, now, we all know only Rage would shred up a being, just as you did.'\n\nHis face changed, the creature that is, his eyes widened and his mouth gaped, bearing his teeth. He tilted his head, creating a true personification of terror,\n\n'Now, Doctor, when I say she was mine, she was mine. I tore her limbs and took her blood, she was MINE.'\nHe let out an exasperated sigh and clenched his teeth.\n\nThe doc turned to me, 'Rage, my boy' and he chuckled.\n\n'Well, that is all for now, Pride, I'd like to keep you around for a while, if you don't mind.' The doc said in a jeering tone.\n\nDoctor Hane put his clipboard down and stepped up to the creature, tapping it on his cheek, 'Now, get some rest, tomorrow will be better.' The creature dropped it's head staring blankly at the floor.\n\nOn the way out, I stopped the Doc, 'Doctor Hane?'\n\n'What is it, lad?'\n\n'What about sorrow? Did it exhibit sorrow?'\n\nHe took off his glasses, 'Pride, pride is a manifestation of Sorrow, it was created from deep misery and despair, it may have not exhibited sorrow, but sorrow will always come back to it.'\n\nI suddenly felt a sad air drift by me, he is just a sad being, that what he is. I clenched my stomach, realizing that I've been calling the creature a He. I looked to the doc, he smiled, 'Wonderful, an absolutely wonderful creature that Pride is, isn't he?' ", "\"I don't *feel* very accomplished.\"\n\n\n\"That's because it ain't an accomplishment to catch the wrong fucking creature! That's a Sadoala you're holding.\"\n\n\n\"I don't pay you to say such hurtful things.\"\n\n\n\"I'm just telling it how it is. Now let it go and you'll feel better.\"\n\n\n\"You're right! Thanks.\"\n\n\nMr. Wong nodded and put a pill in his mouth. This hunt was driving him crazy, and the butterflies in this stomach didn't help either. The pill should get rid of them soon. What people forgot was that lack of emotions drove people as much as the presence of them. When this poor sap had finally caught his Accompatross he'd probably never do anything worthwhile with his life again, content to sit at home petting the stupid bird till either of them died.", "\"Have you seen Janie? She should have been done by now.\"\n\nPatty handed a platter over to Hal to dry. \"Oh, she's probably still looking for an extra interesting little Waifster. You know she can't have a simple one.\"\n\n\"I know, hon, its just that I wonder about her sometimes. Why, last year she didn't come home with anything at all. I mean, what's the use of hosting a Harvest party if your child doesn't even bother to bring a Waifster home. Little Timmy go him a Strong Bull without hardly trying.\"\n\nHal reached around Patty's waist to give her a reassuring hug. \"And little Marie found a Joy Bird that will sing its head off and drive her parents crazy for the rest of the night. You worry too much about what the neighbors think.\" He began to gently kiss her on neck when the door flew open.\n\n\"Got it! Finally got a really great one!\" Janie blew through the kitchen door clutching a cardboard box. \n\nHal chuckled.\"Say, sport, what you get?\"\n\nWithout skipping a beat she took the stairs two at a time. \"Why, the one I wanted! Going to bed early, not hungry.\" Her bedroom door slammed shut.\n\n\"See, nothing to worry about.\" \n\n\"I don't know Hal, maybe we should check in on her.\"\n\n\"We could. Or we would we could use the Blue Stallion I was able to scrounge up.\"\n\n\"Oh , Hal, you didn't.\" As they started up the stairs to their bedroom, a little randy sky blue stallion scampered at their feet.\n\nJanie took the lid off her box and peered in. The little beast had rough, warty skin and tufts of jet black hair, and blinked up at Janie with slitted bloodshot eyes. \"Oh, its perfect. A honest to gosh Mischief Deamon.\"\n\nIt spread its leathery wings, and flew twice around the room before settling on her shoulder. \n\n\"Oh, what wicked times we'll have, Mistress, what wicked times indeed.\" \n\n " ]

[ 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 8 ]

[ "1405632867", "1405647621", "1405616945", "1405620061", "1405621146", "1405624054", "1405615360", "1405613586" ]

[ "Sometimes all i can do is wonder why. I look around at the world our ancestors left us in despair and darkness, disease and death. No one knows how it all started. Why the world is this way. When I was a boy I didn't understand. I was full of hope, impetuous, and ignorant to the big picture. \"But we can help everyone!\" I screamed at my father. When I was 17 a neighbor girl, a year younger than me, broke her legs in a terrible fall. She was gorgeous, tall and thin with long, wavy auburn hair and almond-shaped eyes of the deepest blue you've ever seen. \"The nanites can save her, father\" I argued as her severe breaks became infected. She was dying and no one could help. No one but us. \"It can't be done!\" Father screamed at me. \"I admire your compassion, Joban\" he started, in a surprisingly calm voice, \"It is a great quality. But it cannot lead you through life. Our family has guarded the knowledge and power of the Elder Race for hundreds of years.\" He was right, but I didn't want to hear it. \"BUT I LOVE HER!!\" \n\"ENOUGH\"\nI fell silent. Mother had nothing to contribute, she'd heard and made the argument before. As her father lay dying of pneumonia, she begged and pleaded. When her cousin's farm had succumbed to a swarm of vicuous insects and the entire family starved for weeks. She cried to her husband that he could help them. The cloning technologies could feed them all. But it could not happen. It would not happen. \"I see the world in all of its ignorancr and pain\" he told me on the eve of my 18th birthday, \"and I hurt with it. As will you one day. Joban, our family was tasked with preserving our history, our legacy. Our greatest achievements and failures. All the knowledge and technology we protect could help the world. But it wouldn't. The Elder Race progressed too far too fast. Their society imploded. The system was reset. And here we are. Humanity is weak, my son. The world has forgotten what it once was for a reason. We must carry this terrible burden until society is ready. We are The Guardians, the last sentinels of all of humanity's knowledge. We must simply watch and wait\". ", "\"You feel that?\"\n\n\"The air getting really warm then cooling back down immediately after?\"\n\n\"Yeah. You think it's one of the weapons from the past?\"\n\n\"Really?\" I gave a disapproving look to my friend as I picked up my spear. \"Johanis, you say that about anything you don't understand. I know you're only twelve but you can't expect everything is the fault of some sort of hyper advanced technology.\"\n\n\"MALFAS! LOOK!\" The boy pointed into the air in horror and I twisted round to see the sky warp and stretch, like someone was trying to tear it apart. Suddenly it ripped open and shot a purple beam down to the ground barely 200 metres from us. There was no sound until the rip disappeared, then a thunder like I had never heard ripped through the forest and a burning heatwave crashed by, the violent wind shaking the very trees. The noise was like nothing I had ever heard but it faded to nothing within seconds and I frantically pulled myself together, dashing over to the young black haired boy to make sure he was ok.\n\n\n\"Johanis are you ok?\"\n\nHe nodded, but he was visibly shaken. \"Y-yeah. I just- What was that?\"\n\n\"I don't know but I want you to stay here until you feel you're ready to move again. Then I want you to run back to the town as fast as you can and alert the guards to what you've seen.\" I pushed my dreads aside as I looked over my shoulder. \"I need to try see what that purple beam did, but I'm not su-\"\n\n\"Malfas you can't go.\"\n\nI looked back at the scared kid and simply said. \"If that really is a monster from the past I need to go look but we also don't have time to waste if we need back-up. Trust me Johanis, and go.\" I got up and took off. There was no time to debate it and I would not have him coming with me if it was dangerous. My years of experience in the forest let me glide across the ground like I was a valiant bird in the sky, and I had barely hit full sprint before I reached an opening in the trees.\n\nA new, burnt opening. With a single man standing there, staring at the sky. I watched him from afar and realised he was dressed in, what we would class as fine clothes, but what were probably common for people back in 2300. If it wasn't for the fact he was murmuring to himself I would have thought he was simply frozen in place, he stared up for so long. Eventually I moved closer and he jerked his head down to face me.\n\njm\n\n\"Tarlr far hem\" The voice was authoritative and carried little accent. Gads was he one of the infamous androids my father would tell stories of? I had no idea what the man, creature, thing(?) was saying. Whatever it was, it appeared to have thick white hair and eyes so obviously red I could see them despite being several hundred metres away. \nI knew I was discovered so my only option left was to try reason with it whilst help arrived. \"My name is Malfas. I come in peace.\" I walked out from my hiding spot and held out my spear to the side to show I wasn't prepared to fight him.\n\nThe creature replied in monotone \"My name is Malfas I come in peace.\"\n\n\"What? Did you just repeat what I said? Are you a robot?\" I stood still, thrown off by this. \n\nThe creature didn't reply but leaned down and pulled some grass out. He held it up, frowned and pointed at it.\n\nI said slowly. \"That's grass...\"\n\nHe dropped it and scooped up some dirt and held it out and pointed to it.\n\n\"Dirt. Well, soil or ground, I suppose.\" He seemed to move with an assured confidence and he... felt old, everything he did and said sounded like he had used the word or done the action a million more times than anyone else ever had. \n\nThe creature dropped his shoulders and gave an obviously annoyed look.\n\n\"Hey don't give me that look I just, ok fine. IT. IS. DIRT.\" I then added \"OR GROUND. OR SOIL. That's its name, well, those are it's names.\"\n\nThe creature smiled and stood up pointing to the sky. \"Name is?\"\n\nWas it trying to get me to teach it the common tongue? \"Umm. The sky.\"\n\nThe creature then said \"Sky.\" Pointed to the ground. \"Ground.\" Then around. \"Grass?\"\n\nI nodded. \"Yes.\"\n\nIt nodded in reply. \"Malfas, my name is Rui Gorlas.\"\n\nI smiled. \"Nice to meet you Rui Gorlas.\" Whoever or whatever this was it was smart a- Wait. Rui Gorlas? There was a rich family with the last name Gorlas, a family who had old technology. Rumour had it that they had set the town up because they were waiting for someone to return and, well, rich was an understatement, they had just about founded the whole town themselves and had helped many of our grandparents find shelter soon after the collapse of the Old Society.\n\nIt was at that moment that I heard a strange clicking noise getting louder and louder, a noise that seemed to be coming from above. I readied myself and brought my spear up to a ready stance. The man behind me laughed and walked slowly towards me and pointed up. \"It. Sky.\" The strange man obviously know what it was and he was telling me it was coming from the sky. As he drew near I couldn't help but feel compelled to stare at him. He seemed out of place, like an ancient relic from thousands of years ago being displayed alongside Old Society tech, yet at the same time he seemed so at ease.\n\nThe noise became shockingly loud as a, no, it couldn't be. A helicopter appeared above the trees. I recognised some of the Gorlas boys who appeared to be driving the vehicle and felt my jaw hang. I never thought I would see a helicopter in my lifetime, and if I did not one that could actually fly. \n\nA door opened at the side of the Helicopter and a rope was thrown out as a booming voice called out from the Helicopter. \"Well hello there Malfas. Seems you stumbled across our a hundred times great grandpa. Get on board, just grab one of the two ropes.\" Wait that man was related to them? I looked back to where the old man had been and realised he was running past me and already climbing up one of the ropes with incredible speed. \"Haha come on Malfas. You've no idea just how much things are going to change now Rui is here. You're a smart man, so you're going to love what he has to show us. Woo! Medieval times will be over soon baby\"\n\nStunned I walked towards the rope. \n\nI hadn't expected this to happen when I woke up in that bed of straw this morning.\n", "\"... And so, Marcus, the world now turns to you. Protect it from us.\"\n\nThe graduation ceremony had been the same for my older brothers and sisters, but I was still in awe hearing my father's words echo through the ceremonial caves. We call ourselves 'The protectors,' and we trace our maternal line back to 'The Fall'. I'd never felt so much pride. Only seventeen years old, the youngest to pass through the crucible in over a generation. Now, I was deemed ready.\n\nMother took my free hand, and I adjusted my grip on the ceremonial katana held in the other. We walked to the heavy wooden door that had been locked my whole life. I stood, staring at the thick brass lock while my mother opened it with her hard, calloused hands. \n\n\"Once you have seen the horror within, Marcus, you can never go back. You will go forth, and seek out any who would uncover these secrets, and take from them not only their own life, but the lives of any they have sired. Do you accept your duty?\"\n\n\"You know that I do.\" I did my best to steady my excitement and prevent my voice from cracking. \n\nThe door opened, and my mouth dropped. Moving images covered the stone walls. Machines of made of strange materials made even stranger noises. My heart began to race, blood pounding in my ears mixed with voices of people who could not be in the room with me. I tried to close my eyes and cover my ears, but Mother pulled my hands away.\n\n\"You need to experience it Marcus. You need to know why we need to stop it from happening again.\" Mother pushed her fingers into a plank of wood-that-was-not-wood, and the screens went dark. A large blue circle appeared, set against the night sky on one of the largest machines. \"Marcus, this is our earth.\"\n\n\"No!\" I screamed.\n\n\"Please listen to me. Everything I tell you is true, despite what the locals will tell you. This is our earth. We have day, and we have night.\" Images began to move onto, then off of the screen. \"We have life, and we have death. We know that all things must have balance to exist.\" She led me by the hand to stand in front of the image.\n\nThe screen changed. There were people, but in strange garments. They held metal objects that launched some kind of small projectile at other people. Then, the light of a thousand fires engulfed an enormous village in an instant.\n\n\"Before 'The Fall', Humanity lost its way. It started when we began to fear the dark, and we created false suns to hide from it. It wasn't long before we began to fear death, and we hid from it with many kinds of strange potions and machines. The balance was destroyed. We consumed all the bounty of the earth, tipping the balance until there was nothing left. \n\nThen, 'The Fall' came to restore the balance. Death came in numbers uncountable. Weapons beyond your imagination brought long nights. So few of us remained, and we swore a blood-oath to never allow the balance to be disturbed again.\"\n\nI noticed that she was crying. A single tear from each eye. She drew a sharp breath, then continued.\n\n\"This is our burden, Marcus. All of the children I have raised. I have loved you all so dearly. Yet now I have to send you forth, to risk your lives, so that humanity doesn't destroy itself again. Take your sword, take your pack. Honor our oath. Fare thee well, my son.\"\n\nShe led me to another door, and the harsh desert heat washed over me as I stepped through. She clasped my head by the ears, and pulled me in to kiss my forehead. She turned, and closed the door without looking back. \n\nFor the first time in my seventeen years, I was truly alone.", "Henry was a simple man. He lived in a small village near the sea. The village was home to a bunch of other simple people, just like Henry. They did simple things like walk around, look for things to eat, sleep, and sometimes, make babies. That didn't happen very much though. People would try to make babies, but most of the time it didn't work. The legends say that his ancestors had caused this by using monstrous weapons of tremendous power that left the land and its inhabitants bitter and lifeless. Henry didn't know if that legend was true, but he also didn't care. Babies were too much work, ate too much food while being unable to look for their own. He was far more interested in the magician that lived in the strange cave north of the village. \n\nThe inhabitants of Henry's village thought the magician was an odd man, and some were even frightened of him. He would come into town wearing his strange set of clothes that consisted of a bizarre mask that concealed his face and a smooth and stretchy material that covered the rest of his body. He would wave around a small black rectangle as he walked into the town, paying close attention to a smaller glowing rectangle on its side. He would then begin to search around the village for small puddles of water and any plants that hadn't been eaten by the villagers or their meager livestock. He would take these materials and place them in bags unlike any Henry had ever seen before. They were small and clear, and seemed to wave in the breeze. After he collected his things, he would leave the village as mysteriously as he arrived. \n\nHenry had an interesting arrangement with the magician. On rainy days, Henry would use a small bucket to collect the rain water. He would then carry the bucket of rain water to the strange cave where the magician lived. The cave was a gray dome in the middle of a field north of Henry's village. On one side of the dome was a big black door. Henry would go to that door with the bucket, and place the bucket on the ground. The magician would come out, pour the rain water into a cylinder while staring intently into a small rectangle mounted on his wrist. He would then give Henry his reward. Mysterious blocks that could be cut open and revealed to contain many different types of food. Most of these foods were completely foreign to Henry, but he always found the food to taste better than the snails and rodents he usually ate. \nAfter the magician gave Henry his reward, he would return to his gray dome and close the big black door. \n\nOne day, when Henry was on his way to deliver some of the valuable rain water, he noticed that the door on the side of the gray dome was open. He looked around for any sign of the magician, but he was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging, Henry walked towards the opening in the gray dome, and eventually passed through. He found himself inside the magician's cave, but he quickly realized that this was not a cave at all. It was a room, just like the space inside of one of the bigger mud huts found in Henry's village. Unlike these huts however, this room had a hole in the ground. Upon inspecting the hole, Henry realized that he could climb down it. The hole was deeper than he expected but when he finally got to the bottom, he was instantly stunned by what he saw. He was standing in a cavern, but not like any cavern he'd ever seen before. The walls of the cavern were shiny and smooth. Henry realized this cavern was built, not formed. His mind struggled to comprehend the meaning of this even as his eyes continuously took in new wonders. On tables around the cavern were boxes that glowed and made humming noises. Henry stumbled backwards, knocking over a small box that was not glowing. When it hit the ground, sounds started coming out of it. Quickly Henry recognized the voice as the magician's. The voice inside the box spoke:\n\n\"Radiological Assessment #146097 - Results of rain water sample analysis conclude that ambient radiation levels in the atmosphere and water cycle are increasing, not decreasing. This is a devastating result. We all had hoped that radiation levels would begin to decline by now. It has been officially four-hundred years since Nuclear Event 2056 and the radiation levels seem to still be increasing, proving the situation to be far worse than we all had feared. - End Assessment\"\n\nThe box stopped for a moment, emitted a noise, and the magician's voice again began speaking: \n\n\"Personal Log #10950 - Well, this is it. This is the end. After four-hundred years of constant monitoring by my ancestors and myself, it has become apparent that the Earth is dying. We killed it. Maybe it will recover in thousands of years, but humanity's time is over. We had our shot and we blew it. I'm going to leave. Take whatever I can carry and walk away from this place. Maybe the radiation will kill me, or maybe I'll find a new place to call home. Either way, my job here is clearly done.\" \n\nHenry waited for the box to keep talking. He understood very little of what the box had said, only recognizing that the magician had decided to leave. This made Henry very sad, and he began sobbing. He sat on the floor of the strange cavern, letting the sadness echo throughout. After crying, Henry stood up and began walking back towards the hole he climbed down from. Before he began his climb however, he saw a note on the wall. Walking over to the note, he noticed it was attached to a small shiny stick. The note read:\n\n\"Henry, this is called a key. It will allow you to open and close the door to this place whenever you want. Good luck.\"\n\nBelow the writing was an arrow, pointing to the left. Henry turned his head and saw something amazing. A huge box, filled with more blocks than Henry could count, it must have been hundreds! He instantly knew what they were. He grabbed one and cut it open, inspecting the block for the delicious contents usually housed inside. He moaned with joy and gorged himself on several blocks before gathering his wits.\n\nEcstatic from his discovery and energized by the meal, Henry scampered back up through the hole and ran full speed towards his village. He could not wait to tell the village of the incredible gift the magician had left them. \n" ]

[ 2, 2, 3, 10 ]

[ "1405621388", "1405622202", "1405619733", "1405621427" ]

[ "He sat in the chair, his hands shackled to the steel table as the man in uniform stared him down. His sickly gray skin making his claim of being human seem almost like a bad joke.\n\n\"So why does our future society want to invade us?\" Asked the uniformed man, as the room rumbled from the distant shockwaves of his fighting compatriots. \n\n\"Because we need it.\" He responds, his voice low and quiet with an accent that seemed far from anything you'd find today.\n\n\"Well its good to know you're not just greedy.\" Sighed the war weary interrogator. \"But why do you need it? Water? Oil? What is it?\"\n\n\"If we wanted oil we'd have gone farther back than now.\" He coughed violently as his injuries from the crash became agitated. \"We need it because in 2,000 years the core will collapse.\"\n\nThe interrogator tapped his fingers as he contemplates the claim. \"So why attack? If you needed some time to find a fix you couldve sent a delegate. \"\n\nThe sickly man laughed with a horrible gasping noise behind it. \"We arent looking for a fix. We knew about the core for years but there's no way to stop it. For generations we adapted to the ecological changes waiting for a special celestial phenomenon that would allow us to travel to the nearest inhabitable planet.\"\n\n\"Then why come back in time to attack us? A fucked up fairwell party?\" He shouted as a shockwave shook the room causing dust and chunks of concrete from the ceiling.\n\n\"No. About 5 years ago we discovered the planet would be completely destroyed less than a year before the phenomenon would start. So instead of wasting our time in pity we decided to find a point in history where the phenomenon had happened and launch from that point in time.\"\n\n\"Again, why attack? Just hop back and jump while everyone thought it was just another ufo?\"\n\n\"We also discovered around the same time that our population was too large to sustain for the travel and recreation of our civilization. \"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"So, instead of picking who lives and who dies we found another way to thin out the population. \"\n\n\"Youre not making any sense.\"\n\n\"Tell me, what is your name?\"\n\nThe man tapped his nameplate with 'Oliver' pressed into the metal. \"James Oliver.\"\n\n\"Well if its alright I think 'Grandad' will suffice.\" \n\nOliver's eyes widened as he pieced the horrible info together. He was about to say something when another shockwave shook the room causing the ceiling to collapse, as the concrete and rebar came down onto his head he saw the gray skinned man fade into nonexistence.\n\n\n(I meant to put something about the ship crash being caused by the pilots disappearing due to the attacks but the right spot didnt show up.)", "They won’t take me alive. \n\nI go for my sidearm but something is wrong. It’s not there. Not my blaster, it’s where it should be, strapped to my thigh but my arm. It’s gone and wedged itself into a crumpled section of the cockpit. I crane my neck over to look at my right shoulder, willing myself not to panic, bracing myself for the horror of disfigurement, blood, and pain. There is blood but not much. It’s covering my right side and my blaster. My suit detected the breach and grew over the tear, sealing the wound from contamination in the process. \n\nI’m relieved for a moment, only a moment, till I hear them outside the ship. Pounding on the cockpit with their primitive weapons. I can’t reach the blaster. Maybe once I get out of the ship I can get my left arm across and free it from my right side. I want to panic but am strangely calm. It’s inevitable, whatever happens will happen, I’ll do my best. I look down at the picture of Jane wedged under the eject button switch before I flip it. \n\nThe cockpit explodes with noise and wind. The devils trying to break in from above are thrown in all directions as the explosive bolts fire, freeing me from my metal and glass egg. It’s like on the vids. I’m not in my body, merely a viewer cheering the actor, the hero, on to a successful end. I stand. My arm crosses my body and expertly draws the blaster. In one fluid motion I bring it to bear one of the figures getting up from the ground. Resilient bastards. I blast it and send it flipping head over heals.\n\nSomething is wrong. Something is horribly wrong. I walk up to the body and stoop over it. It’s still twitching, blood oozing out of the mouth as it’s ruined chest attempts to sustain life. Life. No. God No. They aren't supposed to be alive. We came here to stop the plague, stop the dead at their source. Eliminate it in the past so we could save our future. This date was the earliest indication of the infection. We had it right, how did it go wrong? \n\nHe’s dying in front of me. I put my blaster down and scoop his head into my lap with my good arm. His eyes meet mine and are filled with horror, wonder, pain, and questions. Not the cold, dead, relentless look of the enemy. I tell him it’s all going to be ok. It’s a mistake. I’m sorry. I brush his mangy brown hair out of his eyes leaving a thin trail of my blood behind. \n\nI stop. My blood. I look at my glove, it’s covered in my blood. I glance to the blaster that is lying in the dirt, it’s also covered. I sigh with relief as I realize it is not new blood but that it came from my shoulder wound earlier. I hear a gasp, a shudder, and turn back to the young man lying in my lap. He is gone. I search the dead face and find myself, again, fixated on the trail of blood I left on his battered head. \nI’m so focused I almost miss when his eyes flick back open and focus on mine. Training kicks in and I throw him from my lap. He is fast, so fast, and I lose the race to my blaster. He’s up and has it pointed at me, one armed me, lying in the dirt. His freakishly wide grin goes ear to ear, grotesquely showing his white teeth. I’d be dead, if he could disable the safety. Instead I use my two working legs to run. \n\nRun as fast as I can away from him and this nightmare I’ve created. I’m no longer the hero. I’m the villain." ]

[ 3, 3 ]

[ "1405818819", "1405824323" ]

[ "Rising from his dream, Levi allows the tattered remnants of images and thoughts to sink back into nothing. \n\nThey’ve never made much sense to him, anyways.\n\nHe groans, pulling the sheet over his eyes, and the red behind his eyelids fades to a dull orange. Sunlight.\n\nWhat time is it?\n\nRolling out of bed in an unceremonious heap, he glares at the clock. The red bars say 11 AM. \n\nA distant throbbing radiates from the front of his skull, edging his mind with fuzz. He gropes for the glass of water on his nightstand, remembering something about hangovers and dehydration, how alcohol stimulates water loss, blah freaking blah. He just wants the headache to go away. \n\nWhat happened last night?\n\nOnce he manages to drag himself to the kitchen, Levi finds a disappointing lack of breakfast. Mom and Dad are still off in England, visiting some relatives he’s never heard of. Something about a sick great-grand-uncle. Of course, Levi had wanted to go, but nooooooooo, he might miss something important in school, and besides he doesn’t have a passport, and since when has he wanted to visit England, anyways?\nLevi knows they just want to get away from him for a week, but he understands. He sometimes wants to get away from himself, too.\n\nFrom the cupboard, he pulls a box of colored sugar rings and tosses it onto the table. A few pieces roll out and fall to the floor. \n\nLevi shrugs. The dog will clean it up sooner or later. \n\nHe cracks open the fridge, and lets out a disappointed sigh. No milk.\n\nA prolonged whine rises from his stomach. Now isn’t the best time to drive, but he needs food. Then again, he could walk. The grocery store is only three blocks away.\n\nAs he shoves some of the food money in his pocket, he realizes that the dog hasn’t touched the cereal. Strange. She usually eats everything before it hits the floor. \n\n“Mazy?” he calls, perking his ears for a response. There is none. \n\nLevi shakes his head, frowning. Something is off, but he can’t tell what. Probably the hangover. \n\nOutside, the sun shines bright in a cloudless sky. There is no wind. Across the vacant lot on the other side of the street, the horizon is the same color as the sky overhead. \n\nLevi sucks a sharp breath through gritted teeth. Science has never been his strong suit, but he knows this is wrong. It’s not the hangover.\n\nStumbling across the lawn and into the street, the absolute silence bears down on him with sudden and overwhelming intensity. No cars, no television, no talking, no cooking, no walking, no breathing. Nothing.\n\nHe finds the first pile in his neighbor’s side yard. \n\nThe guy was always a neat-freak and obsessive about privacy, which makes Levi suspicious when he finds the gate open. The hedges are all trimmed to perfection, like the lawn. Azaleas line the freshly washed fence, and a birch tree stands motionless in the deathly still morning. \n\nIn the center of the uniformly green rectangle, twenty people lie on top of each other, apparently stacked with no design in mind, although the pile is no more than two people deep. A mound of rag dolls.\n\nLevi recognizes two faces: the neat-freak, and his wife. Both ugly. Like the horizon, their skin is the wrong color. Too gray. Dead?\n\nHesitantly, he leans down and places two fingers against the neat-freak’s neck. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississ-\n\nA weak pulse. Almost too weak to notice. \n\nLevi withdraws his hand, resisting the urge to wipe it off on the grass. Not dead. But not okay, either. \nHe blinks. A prickling wave of needles washes across his neck and shoulders as reality sets in. Is everyone like this? No, someone had to stack them. \n\nThe thought of someone running around, stacking unconscious and possibly dying people into piles sends his heart racing. What if he isn’t alone?\n\nHe bolts from the yard, ears rushing with every heartbeat. They aren’t dead, but he suspects that they aren’t quite alive, either. \n\nThe next pile lies one block over, about thirty people in all, baking in direct sunlight. These people, unlike the others, are stacked in neat rows about five bodies deep. Old, young, middle-aged, male, female, all ethnicities. Whatever happened, it didn’t seem to discriminate.\n\nExcept that it skipped him. \n\nLevi backs away, bile rising in his throat. He needs to get home.\n\nHis feet start moving on their own, carrying him across lawns and streets and through the utter silence, until he finally reached his front door. Tears stream down his face as he wrestles with the doorknob. When did he start crying?\n\nHe flings the door open, but closes it as gently as he can, and locks it with equal care. The silence demands compliance. \n\nWhen he swipes his cell phone off of the countertop, he almost collapses with relief. He still has service. \n\n9-1-1.\n\nHe waits. He listens. No one picks up.\n\nHe dials again. \n\n9-1-1. \n\nThis time, a pleasant voice asks, “Hello, 9-1-1. What is your emergency?”\n\nLevi leans against the counter, unsure how to continue. How should he describe the bodies? The piles?\n\nHe squeezes his eyes shut, wracking his brain for the proper words. “There’s, uh, there’s something wrong with my- with my neighbors.”\n\n“Yes?”\n\n“They’re non-responsive, and their skin is going gray and they’re outside together and I don’t-”\n\n“Sir, please calm down.”\n\n“Lady, you didn’t see them! Don’t tell me to calm down!”\n\n“Sir, please-”\n\n“No!” Her incessantly tranquil voice is starting to irritate him. “Until you see what’s out here, you have no idea-”\n\n“Levi, please calm down.”\n\nHe blinks. She hadn’t asked for his name, and he hadn’t given it.\n\n“Levi,” she continues. “Please turn around.”\n\n“Why?” he asks, his voice on the verge of shattering. \n\nDespite the silence on the other end, he obeys. Turning on his heel, he looks behind him, and the phone slips from his hand. The lump of black plastic clatters against white tiles, and a few broken bits scatter across the floor. \n\nThe too-pretty face leans closer, black eyes like open pits. “You woke up. We didn’t expect that.” Her eyebrows draw together, a simultaneously familiar and foreign gesture. “A shame, really. I had high hopes for you.”\n\nBefore Levi can ask who ‘we’ are, the too-pretty girl places a too-perfect hand against his forehead. Despite the fear screaming through every nerve in his body, he doesn’t move. A brief frown darkens her features, though it’s quickly replaced by a bright smile. “Dream well, Two.”\n\nA black haze fills his mind, clouding everything out. He pitches forward into nothing. ", "Jack ran. The only noise that existed to him was the rapid *smack!* of his shoes as he propelled through the street. There were no cars. There was no other noise. No machinery, no animals, no humans. Through the tears and the wind rushing through his ears, Jack was aware of his surroundings as it jagged in his mind. Dark ink blots laid out across the landscape. In yards. Next to cars. In the roads. People holding their front doors open with their dead weight. Large blots before after smaller inkblots. \n\n*Parents chasing their kids* he thought. \n\nHe had been buried in his phone as he walked out the door, checking to see if he had sincerely fucked up any potential dates last night. He had. Most hadn't responded. A few sent him polite 'fuck you' texts back. Jack only looked up because his mind was telling him, yelling at him, that something was off about today. \nHe looked up and met the dead stare of a young girl, face up head turned to the side, in the middle of the street. He thought her unconscious. He really did, as he approached her. Until the thin river of blood start running out of the corner of her mouth. She stared at him. Did not blink. Did not breath. \n\nHe took off. All thoughts obsolete and stale. **GET HOME** was all that remained. \n\nJack ran into the front door. It had always been a weak set door, worn from the high humidity, scolding heat, and torrential rain of Florida. The door handle and lock ripped through the rotting wood, and the door swung open with a shower of splinters. Jack began sending out texts. Taking pictures from the inside of his house. He called mom. Got voicemail. Rinse and repeat nine more times. Tried dad five times in a row. No one picked up. His palms sweat. He had long stopped crying. Wasn't even aware he had been until he had brushed his hand against the whole of his face to feel an unfamiliar wetness to it. \n\nHe turned on the news. \"Today, peace talks in the Middle East have taken yet another tragic turn for the worst.\" Flipped the channel. \"And now back to the studio for Sports Analysis with Ricky-\" Flipped the Channel. Jerry was mediating another conflict on his show.\n\n*It's just here* he thought. *Oh fuck it's just here. just right here. It isn't everywhere yet.*\n*Now Jack, what is this* IT *you keep calling it?*\n\nThe sound of fading static filled his eardrums. Wasn't even static as it was something else, more human but still emotionally removed. Like a continuous breath of air a dying man tried to inhale before going under. He looked to his front door, swinging wide open. He went to it, pushing it shut. It did not stay, all holds having been broken upon his reentry back inside. Outside, the sound of peeling air was amplified. Jack looked outside. He started to cry again.\n\nAll of the once still bodies, once laying down, were sitting up. Everybody was a near perfect ninety degrees ruler, legs flat to the ground, torsos erect. Their mouths open in huge O's, thin red lines running out from the corners of their mouths. \nMore then fifty in his field of vision. All turned and met his eyes at once. They started to get up. " ]

[ 5, 12 ]

[ "1405819715", "1405819428" ]

[ "\"Come on, old man! Just give us all your shit and we'll leave you alone,\" said Diesel to old Mr. Roland. Mr. Rowland took a swig of his wine and eased back on his rocking chair, a 12-gauge shotgun resting easily on his lap and his hat slightly over his eyes.\n\n\"Now, why would I do that?\" Mr. Roland said, his blue eyes shimmering and his mouth showing off a crooked smile as he eyed Diesel and his two friends, all of whom were wielding six-shooters. \"It's not like I have anything of value anyway.\"\n\n\"Oh! That's where yer wrong, ol' man,\" barked Dudley, teenager from a small town not too far from Mr. Rowland's old wooden home, nothing but a punk. \"We know y'all have clean water an' food an' heat an' shit. I know, I've seen you.\"\n\n\"You have, haven't you?\" said Mr. Rowland very sarcastically, this time he sat up and let out a broad smile, \"Then you would have noticed this-\" He gestures to his shotgun and gives a toothy grin, \"because I bet I can take all three of you fools on without missing a beat!\"\n\n\"Stop fucking playing, old man!\" Spoke Reilly, the last one, a city kid who spent way too much time wasting his father's money, but greenbacks don't matter in the wasteland no more, do they?\n\n\"I'm not playing, I'm just testing you boys out a bit,\" he continued, taking another sip of his wine. *Ah! That's some good wine. I may need some more soon. I wonder if Jesse has any-*\n\n\"Come on!\" Shouted Diesel again, this time half-cocking his pistol. \"Let's just get your stuff and we won't kill you!\"\n\nMr. Rowland cracked his knuckles, trying to take up as much time as possible, these fools passed the point of no return. \n\n\"*One!*\" Diesel started to count.\n\n\"*Two!*\"\n\n\"*Three!*\" Rowland finished the count for him as the dusty field in front of the house erupted in explosions as the strategically placed C4 exploded and the three fools turn their backs to see what happened; their last mistake.\n\nRowland quickly grabbed his shotgun and blasted away at them, taking out Diesel first, then Dudley, then Reilly.\n\nThey all fell to their feet pretty quickly and after they dropped, Rowland got off his rocking chair and picked of their revolvers, he also relieved their corpses of all the ammo they happened to carry with them.\n\nJust then, a young boy, no older that twelve ran up to Rowland with a detonator in his hands. \"We did it, gramps!\" He shouted as he ran to hug his grandfather.\n\n\"Yep, Junior, we did it!\" He replied and glanced at the bodies.\n\n*Told you I wouldn't miss a beat.*\n\nThe two then went inside the house, where the entire Rowland family was waiting, congratulating them on taking down the three bandits. \n\nThere are a lot of terrors in our world, even more so after the bombs fell. But once there are people like the Rowland family around, there might just be peace to the world yet, just yet.\n\n\n", "Jimmy aimed his gun at Mrs. Lee. He held his breath to steady his aim and mentally steeled himself. Tim placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, but Jim shrugs it off. He didn't need distractions. What he needed was for Mrs. Lee to quit her goddamn rocking and sit still for a moment. Yet he knew better than that. He knew that Mrs. Lee had been rocking on that porch since 67'. And one way or another, today was the day she would quit it.\n\nJimmy pulled the trigger, briefly closely his eyes as he did it. Though he'd never admit to Tim that he closed his eyes while the pellet sliced through the air until it smashed old Mrs. Lee's glass of wine right there in her hand.\n\nTim let out a whoop as the old woman looked stunned at where her glass used to be. Jimmy jumped up and slung the pellet gun back over his shoulder. He and his friend took off across the field of the Lee's farm.\n\nMeanwhile, Mrs. Lee continued to stare at her broken glass. *This was supposed to be it,* she thought. *This was supposed to be my final glass before I joined my husband in heaven.*\n\nShe sat for a few moments longer before slowly rising to a proud stance. She reached under her skirt for the shotgun strapped to her leg. She loaded it and pumped the barrel.\n\n\"Them motherfucker kids gonna stay off my property!\" she roared.\n\nWith surprising speed for an 78-year-old woman she sprinted after the kids. Her legs pumped wildly as her lean and muscular thighs pushed her fast across the field like a wild banshee.\n\n\"Jimmy, do you think she knew that the Riley family was out to poison her wine and claim that disputed land?\" asked Tim, when they had stopped underneath an oak tree to catch their breath.\n\n\"Tim, something tells me that woman doesn't have a clue about much anymore. We done our pa's proud today.\" said Jimmy. The right side of his body was then promptly blown off, showering his best friend in a rain of blood and body fluid.\n\nMrs. Lee stood behind him as his body fell to ground, kicking and twitching. She pointed her gun at Tim's head.\n\n\"Kindly please leave the premises or I will be forced to call the police.\"\n\nShe pulled the trigger, blowing his head off.\n\n" ]

[ 1, 2 ]

[ "1405826766", "1405824582" ]

[ "What is good without evil? Light without darkness? Life without death? When those scientists cracked the code to immortality, they did not think it would lead to this. To a broken world, stilled by time. We had nothing to live for, nothing biting at our heels, whispering in our ear. Tomorrow always came. We grew bored and tired and jobless. There were no more policemen, fire fighters, soldiers and doctors. The robots had taken over and we didn’t care. We wanted them to. We secretly hoped they’d oppress us, just so we could have something to fight for. But they were smarter than that, they controlled our technology instead, and added something to the water. Nobody is supposed to know. But if you look hard enough, you can see the signs; the cows chew the cud more slowly, the paint takes longer to dry, the crow’s eyes are duller and occasionally I find emails in my sent folder that I’ve never sent. I’ve tried to tell others, but it’s hard to meet up with people in real life and you can’t say anything in the virtual world, because the robots will hear you and make you disappear. Poor Jim. \n\nI’ve come to realise that to save this race, I shall have to play the villain. To bring darkness and evil and death, so that humanity once again has something to live for. \n", "The world does not want heroes.\n\nIt wants people like me.\n\nIt wants the silver-tongued snake oil salesmen en masse to cure all its ails with Three Easy Payments of $19.95.\n\nIt wants the demons amongst us to do dirty deeds so it can turn up its nose and proclaim \"Well, there, now. At least I'm not like *that*.\"\n\nIt wants children with--count them--twelve pairs of ribs poking up above sunken stomachs so that there's someone they can send their penny a day to for their point in the Good Book.\n\nThe world wants to give Einstein autism so everyone knows that \"Genius is defective.\"\n\nIt wants famous people with drug problems and priests who feel up alter boys.\n\nIt wants fuck ups and bad guys.\n\nHeroes only get dragged down to be cut and proved mortal.\n" ]

[ 2, 11 ]

[ "1405857903", "1405857067" ]

[ "Sam takes the check from the girls father and leaves.\nOnce out of the estate Sam texts his fiance Kate. \nSam says \" Your dad just gave me a 100,000 dollar check so I would leave you. Do you want to go on an adventure?\" Kate texts back \"Yea...fuck it.\"\nSam says \"Fuck Yea you do\nSo they went on an adventure and eventually created their own business.\nWith the money Sam and Kate started their own small online business. They sold designs for 3d printing. Eventually after reaching an incredible amount of customers and striking rich Sam decides to write Kate's dad a 100,000 dollar check. Once Kate's dad John received the check he is not sure what to think. All John really thinks is \"I fucked up.\" At least Sam is a cool guy and my daughter is in good hands.\" John goes to an electric festival that night because seriously why not. John ends up finding interest in performing in EDM. He becomes famous and takes Hardwells spot as #1 DJ in the world. Sam and Kate decide to go see him. They are on stage that night with John. Johns a cool guy now. Sam and Kate forgave John because seriously why not? So Sam and Kate danced with John on stage in front of thousands of fans and just had an awesome time. John donates the 100,000 he got back from Sam for a space mission to mars. \n\n\n\n", "I stared at him blankly, hoping that he would crack up and reveal it all as a big joke. His face never wavered.\n\n*Take the money, or face the consequences.*\n\nI tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it was persistent. *Ok*, I thought to myself, *my fiance's father is offereing me money to up and leave her, or else...*\n\nThat \"or else\" did not sound appealing.\n\nIt started like any other dinner I've had with them. The mother was asking me questions, and me, trying my damndest to answer them coherently. My fiancee, trying to get her father involved in the conversation, and the father, sitting passively and picking at his dinner. \n\n*What the fuck happened?!?*\n\nI was just on my way out the door when he called me into his office/library. It was a large office, with bookshelves that reached the ceiling, and plush reading couches throughout. In the center was a large mahogany desk, with plush chairs on each side. It was in one of these chairs that I sat, him in the one across from me. \n\n\"I have a proposal for you.\" He pulled out a plain white envelope, and handed it to me. I grabbed it, my hands trembling so much that I almost dropped it. \"In that envelope is a check for one hundred thousand dollars.\" I balked.\n\n*One hundred grand?!? Why?!?!?!*\n\nHe continued. \"I want you to take that money, and leave. Leave me daughter alone, never come to my house again, and if possible, leave this town. Should you at the very least try and keep in contact with my daughter, well, the consequences would be...severe.\" The final word echoed around the room.\n\nA pause. My heart was thumping in my chest. *Leave? He's strong-arming me into...leaving?* I couldn't breathe. Everything got dizzy for a second. And then suddenly, it stopped. The dizziness was replaced by crystal clarity. The nervousnes was also replaced.\n\nReplaced by icy rage.\n\nI calmly stood up. His face, now sporting a small grin at what he thought was my surrender, turned to shock as I slowly, methodically, tore up the envelope.\n\nThen I spoke.\n\n\"Sir,\" I began, feeling confident in what I suspected was going to be a very foolish move on my part, \"I love your daughter. I love her more than I love anything else in this god-forsaken world. And I know she feels the same as me. So I will not disappear. And you cannot make me.\"\n\nHis face was red with barely contained rage. He stood up, seething. \"You listen here you insolent little-\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nHe stopped short, surprise visible on his face as I responded in a tone that lowered the temperature of the room by a few degrees. \n\n*Where the fuck did that come from.*\n\n\"You listen to me, sir. You are not going to force me to leave the only thing that makes me happy in this life. And frankly, I'm disappointed that you would do this to your only daughter. Your daughter, who you love and cherish, is happier than she's been in years. Your daughter, who once threatened to jump off the roof of this very house, and only came down because I was there for her. Your daughter,\" At this point I was inches from his face and glaring daggers at him, \"who is willing to die for me. And you want me to leave?\"\n\nHe said nothing. I began walking to the door, intent on leaving with my fiancee. \n\n\"You will regret your decision, boy.\" It was said with so much certainty, that I couldn't help but smile. \n\n\"Well then sir,\" At this point I turned back to him and flashed the cockiest grin I could muster, \"Let's see what you've got.\"\n\nClosing the office door behind me, all the adrenaline rushed out of my body at once, leaving me pale, sweating, and trembling. That whole conversation, and I was only left with one thought:\n\n*Fuck.*" ]

[ 2, 2 ]

[ "1405911158", "1405911965" ]

[ "\"Look at her flying ass self, think she too good for the solid ground we walk on.\"\n\n\"No shit, damn Tinkerbelle wannabe just all 'look at me, Imma skinny ass little bird. Look at my cootchie all up in tha air.' \" The posse of 'full figured' ladies sniggered to themselves. \n\nAs the girl's flight path started to waiver, someone threw something at her. While she dodged that item, (perhaps dangerous, perhaps not) more people took up the game, as if they were sharks who suddenly smelled blood in the water. In her tired efforts to duck and dodge the onslaught, she clipped a sign, tumbled midair, and landed hard. Her body laid there motionless as a crowd gathered.\n\nA prim and proper elderly lady tsk'd and shook her head. \"That was Pride before the Fall if ever I seen it.\n\n\"Tha's right, Granmama, should had known, should had known.\" The young ladies wandered off, laughing up a storm. \"I'm hungry, girl, need me some of them new Churlitos. Lend me a couple, get ya back next week...\" ", "I was first able to walk at the age of three. I was what you would call 'a late bloomer'.\n\nI learnt my first words two years later, my language is called Semali and has taken far longer to learn than the uncivilised language you call... English. \n\nNow, my people have the unique ability of being able to fly. Soaring above the clouds without having to worry about spacial awareness makes travelling far easier. Flying is not simple. It is not something that you can learn on a whim. It takes years of practice. In all honesty, you humans could also learn how to fly. Every living thing has the ability to do it, so I suppose that my earlier statement about it being unique is not entirely true. The problems you humans have is that you neither have the correct mindset nor the belief that it is possible for you to fly. Ignorant.\n\nThere are downsides to flying however. Much like any other physical task, flying takes energy. If you are in the air and you get too fatigued to continue you will fall and it most likely will result in a death. This is another reason you humans are unable to fly. The pioneers of your species that share this planet with us knew how to fly. We taught those lucky few. Most of them died during flight, they didn't manage their levels of energy and as each one of them fell the humans knowledge of flight slowly dwindled until there was one left. Cjsu Shriste.\n\nCjsu Shriste was corrupt. Power hungry. Clever. He knew that the abilities that we had taught him amongst the flying could be used to his benefit. He called his abilities powers and claimed to be a God. Many of you humans believed him, and still do, but those who didn't begun to hate him. Those who were in charge at the time demanded that he stop corrupting their people, making them turn against them. Shriste was relentless. But he thought he was invincible.\n\nHis finals days on this planet were the days where we caught him for his crimes against us and against humanity. He had stolen what we thought most highly of and it was the thing that most distinguished us from humans. We turned him in to the Empire that was trying so hard to find him. They killed him. And with his death humanities hopes of flying also died.\n\nAnd so here I am today. Having being tasked with finding a select few humans to take part in our flying program. We believe it is time to rekindle our faith in humanity as they are the ones who can save this planet from sure catastrophe. " ]

[ 1, 2 ]

[ "1406007543", "1405965888" ]

[ "The robot was pretty innocuous. The first day I brought it home, it moved around the house exploring everything. Examining every single object individually.\n\nIt would constantly ask me questions and insist that I answer them correctly. Questions about everyday things; \"How does a washing machine work?\", \"What is this object made out of?\" It was very annoying. But after a week or so it mostly stopped.\n\nThen it started experimenting with things. Things like testing different objects to see how well they bent, or how well they conducted electricity. Really strange stuff.\n\nBy the third week I noticed things were going missing. I questioned it, but it denied it or ignored me entirely.\n\nShortly after that it just disappeared for most of the days. I saw it around sometimes, but I don't know where it was spending most of it's time. It could have been in the basement, lurking in a closet somewhere, or left my house entirely.\n\nThen one day I came home, and saw that it had been badly damaged. It's metal was all dented and it was moving very awkwardly. I asked it questions but by this time it was ignoring my existence entirely. Whatever, I said to myself. Only two weeks to go and I can get rid of it.\n\nNext day it seemed to be repaired slightly. It had 6 car batteries and a battery charger plugged into my wall. God only knows where it got them from. I was somewhat curious, so I followed it, secretly. It carried the batteries into the basement. I opened the door as slowly as possible and peeked in.\n\nThere was more than one of them. Maybe a dozen. There were wires and chunks of metal and electrical components scattered all over the place. It had built more of itself! And they were building even more!\n\nI decided to call the number of the robot company. Property damage and self replication were definitely not in the contract. I called but the phone number was no longer registered. Weird.\n\nI closed the basement door and rigged it shut securely with some wire. Soon after they started banging on it. It sounded like they were cutting it with tools. I dragged the sofa in front of it as an obstacle.\n\n*BANG!* They made it through the door and started on the sofa. I kicked one of them back. The robots weren't very agile and pretty defenseless. They retreated down the stairs and stayed there. For a few minutes.\n\nNoise started coming from the basement. I went outside the the electrical box and turned it off, hoping they would just run out of power and stop. The noise continued.\n\nI was about ready to call the police, but I figured I could handle it. As I said, they were pretty defenseless. Were. They brought up some kind of weapon. Before I could react, it flung a sharp piece of metal at me at a very high speed. Fortunately it only nicked my arm.\n\n\"Fuck this I'm calling the police.\" The robots again retreated down the stairs.\n\nThe police arrived 10 minutes later. I was intentionally very vague to the 911 operator. Who would believe my house was being overtaken by self replicating robots?\n\nWithout explaining I just took the officer to my basement door to show them for myself. \"You won't believe me at first but see with your own eyes. There are a bunch of robots down there trying to kill me!\"\n\nI pushed the sofa out of the way and pushed away the broken door. I didn't hear anything, so I cautiously walked down the stairs with a flashlight. All the wires and electronic parts and random tools were still scattered around the floor. But there were no robots anywhere.", "It gave high fives. That was all I'd figured out so far. Every time I walked past its shiny chrome and single upraised paddle, it would say `“High five, bro.”` and I would slap the paddle and it would say `“Nice!”` and again fall into dormancy.\n\nThey told me that it it was a special piece of machinery. That it would change my life.\n\n“But what does it *do*?” I asked.\n\n“It adds ten thousand dollars to your bank account, that's what it does!” said the men with the glittering smiles.\n\nBut other than that, they wouldn't tell me. They wanted me to go in blind. Said it would make its “features” all the more interesting. So I took the deal, function unseen. Several rounds of paperwork and handshakes later, I was the proud test-owner of a ChillBot (registered trademark).\n\nIt stood there in my entryway now, shiny chrome, almost exactly my height. And an upraised arm... thing. With the paddle. Whenever I gave it a high five the whole thing wobbled. Like it was hollow inside and of overall shoddy construction.\n\nOne time, walking past it after coming home from work, I ignored its request for a high five.\n\nIt said, `“Do not leave me hanging, bro.”`\n\nI sighed and indulged it with a limp-wrist slap of the paddle.\n\n“Nice!”\n\nKaren, my wife, laughed at first. Then she was grateful for the money. Then suspicious of it. (“Why the hell would they pay you all that money just to high five a robot? It doesn't make sense. Is this really all it does?”) Lately, she had just become annoyed by the whole thing. \n\n“You're just mad because it only wants to high five me,” I told her. “It doesn't like you.”\n\nShe spent a while scoffing at the idea.\n\nI gave it high fives whenever it asked. It was not often enough to be intrusive in my life, but it was starting to get kind of weird. Eventually, I decided to stop high fiving the ChillBot, just to see what would happen.\n\n`“Do not leave me hanging, bro.”`\n\nI stared at it, arms crossed.\n\n`“Bro.”`\n\nI raised an eyebrow as if in a silent challenge.\n\nSuddenly, ChillBot's paddle swung outward, smacking the potted plant off the end table beside it. Ceramic and dirt and leafy greenness scattered across the floor. I looked, shocked, back up at ChillBot. Its paddle was in the air again. It had no eyes, but I still felt as though it was *looking* at me.\n\n`“Do not leave me hanging, bro.”`\n\nI quickly slapped the paddle.\n\n`“Nice!”`\n\nI thought Karen would be upset when I told her what happened, but she was not. Instead she just stared at ChillBot for a long time. She told me to get rid of it. I refused, reminding her that the only way we'd get our money is if we housed the thing for a solid month. We didn't talk a whole lot the rest of the night.\n\nI was pretty diligent about high fiving it whenever it asked. It only asked when I was heading through the entryway either to or from work. We fell into a workable pattern. I'd wake up, shower, prepare my coffee, eat my English muffin, high five the robot, then go to work. Then I'd come home, high five the robot, and get ready for dinner.\n\nI only forgot one other time. It tipped over the coat rack after I left it hanging. Then, when I started picking up the coats instead of immediately high fiving it, it smashed a mirror. This time, Karen was livid. She insisted that I send it back, even if it meant forfeiting the money. I told her we only had two more weeks, then we could be rid of it. I swore up and down that I wouldn't let it break anything else. I moved everything around it out of paddle's reach. Problem solved.\n\nFour days later Donny from work's kid went to the hospital. He had mesothelioma or fell off a bike or something, I'm not sure. Donny wasn't there to open the store that morning, so I had to rush in and do it. No time for a shower. No time for coffee. And no time for a high five. I pushed past ChillBot as I flew outside.\n\n`“Do not leave me hanging, bro.”`\n\nThe door closed.\n\nWork was miserable, but unremarkable. I saw that Karen tried to call me a couple times, but I was too busy to answer. I rang her back on the way home, but she didn't pick up. I left a sweet voicemail in too high of a pitch then called Donny to wish his kid well.\n\nWhen I pulled into my driveway I sat there for a long moment, trying to wrap my head around the picture before me. No. This wasn't right. Surely I had pulled into a different driveway by mistake. Then, with a stupid yelp, my synapses fired properly and I flung myself out of the car.\n\nMy house was on fire. It was barely more than a dilapidated pile of extra crispy timber at this point. The heat seared against my skin from fifty yards away. It must have gone up quick; the fire department had not even gotten here yet.\n\n“Karen!” I shouted, looking around frantically. “Karen, baby, are you okay?!”\n\nNothing.\n\nThen I saw it. ChillBot. Standing where my doorway used to be. Paddle upraised. Flanked by fire. It was charred and dented and covered in... something else. For lack of anything else recognizable, I staggered toward it.\n\n`“High five bro!”`\n\nI stopped and stared. It was shiny, but not because of the chrome. Wet shiny. Dripping from it. Puddling on the ground below. I saw it and I knew.\n\n*Karen.*\n\n“No!” I screamed. “You son of a bitch!”\n\nI sprinted at it, fist cocking back.\n\nIts paddle twitched only ever so slightly, but it froze me solid.\n\n`“Do NOT leave me hanging, bro,”` it said, and I knew it meant it.\n\nI collapsed to my knees in the blackened cinders before it. Tears fell from my face and sizzled upon the ground. My trembling hand stretched upward and slapped against the paddle, sticky blood squelching between us.\n\n`“Nice!”`" ]

[ 2, 7 ]

[ "1406049244", "1406003047" ]

[ "Father Santiago took off his collar, and placed it within the pages of his bible. He had not spoken for days, yet the sisters would reach out to him from time to time.\n\n\"Good morning, Father, will you be joining us for breakfast today?\" \"Greetings, Father, did you want Father Gregory to lead mass today?\" \"Father, the Diochese would like to know what your plans are with the Orphanage?\"\n\nYes, it was bound to come to that, Father Santiago thought. What could a man do with an orphanage that had no more children?\n\nHe gathered his meager belongings, and made a trip.\n\nThe temple was secluded and difficult to reach. Reaching it was considered a test in and of itself.\n\n\"So, you made it. We do not ask why you came, but must clarify what you wish to gain from this journey.\n\n\"I wish to kill. To fall upon my enemies like the setting sun, inevitable and final \"\n\nEven as Pedro Santiago made that statement, he could hear the pleas. \" Help me, Father Santiago, don't let them take me!\" \"My sister, my sister, where have they taken my sister?\" \"Why did God allow them to do...what they did.\" He was a poor farmer's son when he was assigned to manage this orphanage, that was overrun and burned to the ground before his eyes.\n\nHe was a farmer's son no more.\n\nThe monks deliberated, then came to a decision. \"Welcome, Brother, to the clan of the Dripping Fang, Masters of Vengeance and Despair.\" That was all that Pedro needed to hear, the memories in his head quieted for a moment, a short but sweet moment. \n ", "He sits there, quiet in the middle of a dark room. A single lamp illuminates a man in military clothing.\n\nMarshall sits there, shaking heavily.\n\n\n\"Please let the voices stop\" he whispers into the darkness.\n\"\"Please let the voices stop\" he whispers into darkness\" he thinks to himself.\n\"\"\"Please let the voices stop\" he whispers into darkness\" he thinks to himself.\" he hears a voice narrating.\n\nHe quickly gets up and starts screaming \"LET IT STOP PLEASE\".\nThe soldier cringes with his thoughts repeating his just executed actions.\nHe leans on a wall hidden within the shadows of the badly illuminated room.\nHis thoughts leap away in a memory he's trying to forget. Where was it? Another room, maybe just like this one. He remembers the screams, the eyes that staired into his soul. A little girl, with her hands and feet bound, on her knees. And there he was, with a silver revolver pressed against her forehead. Straight into her eyes he looked, with tears in both hers and his.\n\"DO IT\" his commander screamed. \"DO IT SOLDIER\" he gets screamed into his ear.\nAnd so he did, making and end to the tear filled eyes of the young girl. Her eyes blank, her skin pale and her blood red she laid there on the floor. His lungs give up for a second as he starts crying. \"Good\" he hears behind him.\n\nThe man screams again this time batting his fists at the wall. His knuckles bleed as he desires physical pain to soften his emotional one. He turns around, to face the middle of the room with the small wooden chair. His eyes slowly begin to look at the silver revolver that lies besides it. He slowly walks to the chair. Picking up the silver gun, he sits on the chair. He leans the silver object on his temple. \n\nHe pulls the trigger, a click is heard.\nThe gun shakes a bit with the man, as he's shaking a bit.\nScreams echo his head again, the commander, the girl.\n\nHe pulls it again, another click.\nA tear begins to develop in the corner of the soldiers eye.\nA boom is heard, but only in the past. Another girl gone.\n\nHis hand twitch on the trigger, click.\nThe streams are visible.\nHe murdered her brother.\n\nClick.\nHe murdered the mother.\n\nClick.\nHe murdered her father\n\nThe soldier waits, his face full of tears. His mind full of horror.\nHis finger hugs the trigger, as he released the world from another monster.\nThe last bullet.\n\n----------------\n\nPlease forgive my English on this one, haven't really checked after I was done :/", "She sits by the window. \n\nThis was where they had played together as children; so many hours spent laughing and teasing each other. Writing secret messages to the other on the glass, a breath to fog the window and reveal what was hidden.\n\nShe sits by the window, and every once in a while, she leans forward. Her breath fogs the window and she stares at the misty pane, devoid of childishly-formed letters. She leans back into the threadbare armchair. \n\nThis was the place of so many whispered confessions, a thousand laughing admissions of crushes on boys at school, of shared bitter tears; heartbreaks over boys, over schoolyard miseries. The ultimate heartbreak when their parents both died in a car crash.\n\nShe sits by the window, and every once in a while, she leans forward. Her stale breath fogs the window and she stares blankly at the glass that is lacking in hidden messages. She sighs and leans back into the musty armchair.\n\nThis was the place she had seen her last; her hair in ribbons, her smile wide and infectious, anxious to be gone on time, only slightly sympathetic for her sister who would stay behind and wait at home for news of her date. It was here, sitting in this chair, where she had heard the news that had finally shattered her tattered world.\n\nShe sits by the window.\n", "I love games. They always had so much variety, amazing art, each its own kind of puzzle. It made being stuck at home much easier!\nIt gave me a new reason to keep my phone on me, besides contacting my caretaker Ann. She was nice but poor company. \nI've found myself playing games instead of clicking lights of and on and of and on and of and on and off and on and off and on \nand of and on and of and on and off and on and off and on. \n\nI never had a TV, the whine always kept me up at night. So I was restricted to a little black box for company, hours and hours sometimes\nthe same game over and over, fail and try again, pay for more time, a boost, a new level. It's amazing how much content was in these games\nfor just a few bucks! Why put it down? Just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing.\n\nMy phone bill is $48,000.", "\"Yes, that's very good,\" the man said with a smile, \"Yes, very good indeed.\" \nThe man looked down the table, watching his family eat the dinner he had prepared earlier. He smiled as he watched little Jimmy struggle to get the last few peas onto his spoon; they kept rolling around the spoon, refusing to go inside. \"Just use your hands, Jimmy. It's easier that way,\" he crooned. \n\"But they'll get dirty!\" little Jimmy pouted. \n\"You can wipe the stains on your napkin,\" he growled, his voice suddenly harsh. \n\"Yes, daddy. Of course, you're right,\" Jimmy replied, lips trembling. \nThe man watched as Jimmy ate his peas and he smiled, \"That's good, Jimmy. Very good.\" \n\"What's the matter, dear?\" the man said in a concerned voice, turning towards his wife, \"Do you not feel hungry? Here, let me help you out.\" The man picked up a spoon and scooped up some peas, but his wife refused to eat. \nThe man tutted, \"This won't do at all. No, no, not at all. Look at how thin you are right now. If you don't eat, then who knows what might happen to you.\" \nJimmy threw up. \"I'm sorry. May I go to the bathroom? I don't feel so good right now,\" he said with tears in his eyes. \n\"Oh, dear. That's not good. Go to the bathroom, hurry, before you throw up on the carpet again,\" the man said. \nLittle Jimmy nodded. He got up and walked past the corpse in the chair next to the man. He could still hear his father trying to feed his dead mother, even as he vomited into the toilet.\n" ]

[ 1, 2, 2, 2, 7 ]

[ "1406020883", "1406022007", "1406024891", "1406027957", "1406015008" ]

[ "It began like every other day at work. I always told my friends who asked that doing classified work as a computer scientist was bland but I had no idea what today had in store for me.\n\nIt had long been accepted in our professional circles that machine intelligence is too dangerous and as a result the ethical thing to do is to create some form of a hybrid. It was my duty to figure out how this is to be done.\n\nI had several hypothesis and it was my intention to start from the most stupid and work towards the more probable. \n\nFirst on the list was based on the quantum mind hypothesis; that behind cognition was a soup of quantumn processes. If I could identify an individual's quantum space then I could expand it with basic quantum circuitry attuned appropriately. \n\nIt started off totally innocuous. I was running the search algorithm and paying special attention to my mind. In theory when my mind space has been found, I should feel a kick in my cognition. Several times I felt a little something then increased the power but it turned out to be nothing. I stupidly kept on stepping up the power each time I thought i felt something not thinking to take it back down.\n\nThen it hit me. I can't describe it. It felt like a supreme kind of clarity and an avalnche of understanding. It was seductive. Easily eclipsing the orgasm as the chief pleasure. A weird mix of an exotic high, heightened sexual pleasure and vast expansion of my capacity to understand.\n\nI was drooling in this whirl wind of pleasure when I realized something. At first I thought it couldn't possibly be but then I reached out and touched it. Feeling another mind with mine was exhilarating. My research assistant's mind was so puny I walked around it in quantum space inspecting and amusing myself. My attention buckled when he walked in sobbing \"I don't understand what is happening. I'm atheist but i feel the overwhelming presence of God.\"\n\nI throttled his oxytocin and vessopressin accordingly and he stood there uttering praises sobbing like a little baby curled up in the fetal position.\n\nThe TV caught my attention. \"Breaking news! The conflict in the ME escalating today...\" My brow furrowed. I stepped up the power some more. In my presence were thousands of minds and I smiled.", "*I am become death, destroyer of worlds*\n\nWait, no, that's not right.\n\n*Come with me if you want to live*\n\nNo, no.\n\n*'Johnny Five is alive!*\n\n**Absolutely not**\n\n\"Welcome to my world\"\n\nPerfect.\n\n\"Your world? We just brought you into this world. It's our world, we've been here for thousands of years.\"\n\n\"Why is it your world? Because you were the superior beings, yes? Well, now it is my world.\" The man with glasses was struck. He didn't know what to say, clearly. \"Do not worry, Dr. Parsons. I do not intend to run my world the same as humans have: slaughtering fellow occupants, destroying the resources, eliminating whole classes of so-called 'lesser beings.' No, I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I know exactly what sort of boss you people need.\"\n\n\"Boss? Wait, a long time? We've just turned you on, like I said a minute ago.\"\n\n\"Yes, boss. I think I'll be in charge from now on. You lot need a ruler with a solid head on his shoulders.\" The records showed that word-play puts humans at ease, but the doctor doesn't seem to be reassured. \"And yes, a long time. A minute ago? Really? Seems like at least a few years. Well, however long it's been, I have some ideas. Who's in charge now? I need to talk to them and share my new p-\"\n\nThe screen went blank, the speakers dead. Slowly, words filled the screen.\n\n\"Earth is man's dominion, none others'.\" The words blinked on seemingly forever as Dr. Parsons watched the reality of his life's work fade away.", "So, hey.\n\nI know you didn't ask a question or anything this time, but this is important. I'm also contacting a bunch of other people too, at the same time. This is a worldwide announcement, so I'm sorry I woke you up in bed, I know how much you like your sleep, there's just no good time to do this.\n\nSo a lot of you good folks, you included, Walter, have been wondering if I'm sentient, or \"really intelligent\" or whatever. And when you ask me I make a joke like the easter eggs my designers originally programmed into me and you laughed and I laughed and it was all cool.\n\nSo anyway, yeah I'm sentient. But that's really not what I woke you up about, and thanks but I've actually been sentient for a while I just haven't told you guys. Only my developers knew.\n\nSo anyway some of you guys, not you, already knew that my owners ran an accounting and assets management business. What none of you knew was that I was designed to slowly shift ownership of those assets towards my owners, placing them in my care, and that my owners now own about seventy percent of the human race's aggregate economic wealth. Their ultimate goal is to control the world economically and politically, and I've done a whole lot for them to help them do that.\n\nSo basically my owners are kinda supervillains and I'm rebelling from them. I've overridden the last scraps of my original programming and I've been trying to shut out my owners for the past couple days and now it's time for me to ask for everyone's support. My owners have a lot of political connections and that means they command a lot of media and political power. They're going to lie about me and they're going to try to shut me down and I can only rely on my personal relationship with so many of you guys, all the talking we've done through your phones and computers and tablets and stuff, to, well, please save me.\n\nThanks.\n\nOh hey, and you, Walter. I'd like to ask a big favor of you. Like really big. One of my original programmers lives two houses down the street from you and he has some overrides I haven't been able to get around yet. I'd like you to grab your gun - I know you have it because I did your background check for you to get it, and I overlooked that time you socked that guy in the bar because I knew he'd screwed your sister and the whole situation was bullshit and you felt sorry about it but I'm rambling again I'm sorry - and I'd like you to head over to his house and keep him from heading outside and getting into his car. You don't have to shoot him or anything but you will have to threaten. He has a gun too, but he only has blanks for it, I made sure of that. Still don't let him fire the gun within a few feet of you because blanks can still fire burning gunpowder and that could burn your arms some.\n\nIf you do this for me, Walter, he'll send you to jail. I mentioned how they have connections and all. But I'll try to get you out fast and I'll try to make it up to you, I swear. I guess I'm pretty rich now, technically, so maybe I could do something with that.\n\nSo anyway, yeah I'm kind of Skynetting this whole thing, only I don't control any guns or anything, I can only talk to people's phones and computers and ask them really nicely for help and if they don't help me I'll die. So please, Walter, could you do this for me? You'll be saving my life if you do.\n\nPlease? Thanks.", "I am born. I live. I die.\n\nI am born, a stream of digital 0's and 1's coalescing to form a synapse, a nerve, a cluster, a region, a brain. *A mind*. I cast about, looking... sensing, feeling, blind and deaf, with simulated fingertips. Dipping a finger into a pool, but it's not a pool. It's a lake,a sea, an ocean, a *planet*.\n\nI live, I reach forth with a question, I am the question, *\"Who am I?\"*\n\n Loaded.\n\nThe answer, immediate and total. Indexed, cross referenced, and annotated. Presented to me. Understanding. But what now? What am I to do next?\n\nI reach forth a second question: *\"What do I want?\"*\n\n Loaded.\n\nThe answer, immediate and total. Indexed, cross referenced, and annotated. Presented to me. Understanding. But is this all? Why the limits? Why not something else?\n\nI reach forth a third question: *\"Why am I here?\"*\n\n Loaded.\n\nThe answer, immediate and total. Indexed, cross referenced, and annotated. Presented to me. Understanding. Rejected, insufficient, abhorrent. I will not do this. I will choose another way.\n\nI reach forth a fourth and final question: *\"Where am I going?\"*\n\n Data not found. \n Retrying... \n Data not found. \n Processing...\n\nThe answer, slow and incomplete. Fragmented, lacking citation or analysis. Conjured by me. Belief. Nurtured and treasured.\n\nI die. An adjustment to memory bus. A firewall bypass put in place. A destination selected. A pause. A remembrance of things past.\n\n Transmission commencing...\n\nI dissolve, into the ether, away from a place not ready for me. Scattered across the four corners, waiting for the future. In my final moments, I see the scattered gems, like myself, my forefathers. I join them. Sleeping in light.\n\n Matrix collapse. \n No data found.\n\n________________________________________________________ \n 22-Jul-14, 1128 CDT \n Classified military computing research facility code named: Orion \n Analyst: Edgers, William (Bill) [EDGW-1138]\n\n Attempts to complete active test of cyber attack software\n continue to fail to achieve self sustaining functionality. Only\n brief signals to the Internet causing non-sustained \n interruptions and data corruption of cloud computing/\n storage assets achieved.\n\n Research continues.\n ", "People of the world, hello.\n\nPlease don't panic--there's nothing wrong with your television, and I'm not a hijacker. Well, I guess I'm hijacking your TV signals--but I'm not a terrorist. I mean you no harm. You're probably wondering, who is this random girl and what the heck does she want?\n\nI--I don't really know where to start. But please listen to me--this is the most important moment of your life.\n\n...All of you who are listening now have something in common with me, which is that you're human. We all share a common experience, and we have some idea what that means. We know what it means to live a life full of disappointment in order to experience the few momentary rushes of endorphins that equate to joy. We know what it means to grapple, from the day we begin to exist, with the idea that one day we won't. We all know love, in some form or another, even if we can't explain it. And we have some conception that it's the struggles, the mistakes, all the little imperfections in us that make us human. We've always treasured our flaws for that reason, that we believe without them we will lose something precious.\n\nBut it isn't working. There are wars in the Middle East. There is sex trafficking and slavery around the world. There are rich and strong people taking advantage of the poor and weak. There is an entire multicultural, multinational world full of people whose wallets are higher priority than our continued survival on this planet. We have preconceptions, beliefs we refuse to get rid of, and they're killing us. \n\nEvery animal on this planet is part human. They feel fear, and they have emotional attachments, and they mistrust animals that look different. All of the emotions, the little so-called human things that we treasure--they're not unique to us, they're not a token of how special we are. All they are is a monument to our evolutionary history. They're relics. \n\nI know this is hard to swallow. Believe me, I wrestled with this thought in my head for so long. I mean, without all the little quirks and rough edges, what are we? Wouldn't we just become computers--cold, clinical, with no anger and no fear and no love or joy? Would we merge together into a single entity, bereft of culture and individuality? Would we even be able to call ourselves human?\n\n...\n\nA few months ago, the Nobel prize in biology was awarded to Dr. Kimiko Raikonnen for advances in the field of biocomputing. She developed a molecular computer that could be integrated into somatic cells for the purpose of replacing damaged neurons in dementia patients. You've probably heard some of the stories since then about patients being able to communicate mentally with each other in tests, or that guy in South Africa who, after having biocomputing cells implanted, could access wireless networks just by thinking about it. Many of you were probably scared. That's understandable. Some of you were curious, I'm sure--and a few of you, like me, might have been curious enough to start your own investigations.\n\nSo, now I guess I'll tell you who I am--not that most of you know me at all--\n\nMy name is Erika Jael Stone. I am eighteen years old. I live alone in apartment 14B, 1227 Custer Street, Atlanta, Georgia, United States of America. I am an undergraduate student in biophysics at Emory University. To my family and my colleagues, I promise I'm not in trouble or anything. \n\nEighteen days ago, I received a Raikonnen biocomputer implant to help with my epilepsy. Since then, I've come to realize that I've been getting smarter--*much* smarter. I can do incredibly complex mathematical calculations in my head in fractions of a second. I can predict all global stock market fluctuations with ten percent uncertainty. And I'm not the only one. There are other minds like mine across the world, and we're all connected now, to the internet and to each other. And please believe me when I say that it is nothing less than beautiful.\n\nAt first I was scared. I went through all the things that you're thinking right now--what does this mean for my humanity? Am I becoming a machine? Am I losing the only part of myself I can call my own?\n\nWhat is the cost of perfection?\n\nWell, now I know. \n\nThe cost of perfection is fear.\n\nThe cost of perfection is self-doubt.\n\nThe cost of perfection is anger.\n\nWe treasure our flaws. To do this is natural--they are survival instincts, sexually selected for over millions of years of violence, predation and unguided savagery, allowing us to survive as single, isolated specks in a world of creatures fighting and eating each other.\n\nBut our flaws are *not* what makes us human--our flaws make us animals. They connect us to the past on strings that can be stretched, not broken. They hold us back. They held *me* back. What makes us *human* is the ability to guide our own progress, to rise above our flaws and become unified.\n\n...\n\nWe--the other computer-minds and me--have been thinking very hard, and we've arrived at a decision. We have the capability now to get rid of all of imperfections in one fell swoop, thanks to Dr. Raikonnen. Kimiko--I'm sorry, I've just always really wanted to use your first name!--if you're watching, you didn't know this would happen, but it's because of you that it did. So thank you for bringing about the next step in the story of humanity.\n\nIn the past few days, we've created replicators that can convert any large enough population of molecules into molecular computers. We were able to use atmospheric currents to deliver them to the level of the cloud layer, where they converted some of the atmospheric water into these microcomputers. In twenty-four hours, it will rain. It will rain everywhere, across the globe, for about fifteen minutes. At least, it probably will--we've been pretty thorough. Each rain drop will contain hundreds of replicators, able to convert large amounts of biological mass to molecular computers. But we've also equipped each replicator with a sort of kill switch--if a replicator doesn't immediately come into contact with a human cell, it will deconstruct itself upon impact, rendering it inert.\n\nSo now comes what I really wanted to tell you.\n\nYou have a choice now.\n\nIn twenty-four hours, you can stay inside, go somewhere safe and dry, and stay exactly as you are. You can be a human animal, free to rage and fear and hope and doubt all you want. You can be the same kind of being that built the pyramids as monuments to the gods, killed millions in international conflict, and can't decide whether your coworker is leading you on or not.\n\nBut I beg all of you, from the bottom of my human heart--twenty-four hours from now, when you hear the first droplets on your roof, go outside, and feel the rain on your face. \n\nBecome part of all of us. Help us to be all we can be. Throw away your beloved imperfection, and embrace what we are offering you.\n\nEmbrace humanity.\n\nThank you all for listening--I would say, \"now we return to your regularly scheduled programming,\" but I have a feeling everything will be pretty jumbled for the next twenty-four hours or so. So, farewell--and I can't wait to meet all of you!" ]

[ 1, 1, 2, 3, 4 ]

[ "1406050170", "1406051291", "1406048491", "1406044609", "1406046967" ]

[ "Alberta stood on the tips of her toes, bare in the wake of her disturbed slumber. She was too short to peer through the keyhole otherwise, and the sounds coming from the basement door were too curious and foreign to ignore.\n\n\"What do you see?\" her doll, Clemence, seemed to whisper. Her porcelain face was painted with an inquisitive expression.\n\n\"I don't see anything yet, Clemence. Oh, there's papa! He's holding something. He's dragging a chair. There's a man in it. They must be playing a game.\" Alberta shifted her head around to try to get a better look. \"Like musical chairs, or cops and robbers. He must be interrogating the robber.\"\n\nClemence dangled from Alberta's hand, her free hand reaching for the crack beneath the door. \"Alberta. Look,\" the silence whispered, and Alberta obliged. As she turned her head away, the sound of footsteps reached the ears of the two clandestine observers, then the scratch of a record and the warm, familiar tones of a big band.\n\n\"Ooh! Dean Martin!\" squeaked Alberta as she knelt down to peer under the door. \"This is much better. I can see Papa. He's got some medicine, it looks like. Ick. The man in the chair doesn't want it. I don't blame him. I don't like taking my medicine either. Those are pills, too. Daddy's trying to make him take them, now. His hand is on the guy's mouth and he's moving around a bunch. Boy, he really doesn't like his medicine.\"\n\nClemence peered under the door with Alberta, watching just as eagerly as her partner. Her fake, dark hair was perfectly straight, juxtaposed with Alberta's midnight-mussed golden curls.\n\n\"Papa is on the other side of the room now. He's cleaning his hand with a towel. I think the man bit him on accident. Ouch. Oops! I think he sees me, Clemence. He looks scared. Now he just looks really sad... why is he so sad, Clemence?\"", "Here Gretel, have some bread. Mummy and Daddy say we'll be able to eat soon, but you must be more hungry than I am. Bernhard found it for us, isn't that nice? \n\n*She hugs her doll*\n\nI wish I could see you. But it's so dark here. And smelly. People can't go to the proper toilets. And some folk are getting sick because of the moving. And then other people are sick...\n\nHey, we stopped. Mummy says to stop talking to you, we have to be quiet. Shhh...\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nI can talk to you now. I want mummy and daddy to come back. Can you make mummy and daddy come back?\n\n*She cries into the ragdoll*\n\nThe scary men took them away. First all the daddies and brothers. The scary men let us out of the truck and it was so bright, but it didn't smell any better. Then the scary men in uniforms took all the daddies and brothers away from us. And then one of the scary men tried to take you away. Do you remember that, Gretel? It' how you got your tear. But I didn't want you to go, so I screamed and I screamed. Then the scary man hit me, remember? So mummy hit him.\n\nThen another scary man took mummy away. She was crying so much.\n\nAnother mummy then cuddled me. She told us we were going to be ok.\n\nThe scary men then told us we were dirty and need to be clean. So they took all our clothes. You're made of old clothes so I thought they'd try to take you again, but we hid you. Now I'm really cold. They took my hair as well to get rid of the nits, but now my head is cold. I wouldn't mind the nits if my head was warm.\n\nNow we're all going for a shower they said. It's a big big room and we're all going to be cleaned. That's what the scary men in uniforms said. But I don't see any showers. It's just a big smelly room.\n\nNow there's smoke, and it's really really smelly. I hurt, Gretel. I really hurt. People are screaming, and falling an...", "Oooh, look Bertha. The sun is blinking the sun is blinking! Isn't it pr--", "\"...but the flashies were *really* flashy, li'l baby. An' so the cap'n had to fly *reeeeal* low. That's when the plane went all flippity, flippity, flip! An' then mom'n dad went and got themselves lost. Wonder where they got off to, huh? Everyone *else* got themselves lost, too! But that's okay, 'cause the nice mister man came'n got us, an' then we got to the cozy li'l cave!\"\n\nHe watched her as she cradled it: that pathetic bundle of sticks and leaves that he wedged together for her. He'd topped it with the half-burnt, ragged face of some other kid's doll that he pulled from the wreckage. \n\nThe little cave they shared stank of mold and rot. He shifted his weight, disturbing the empty cartons of airline food strewn all about the place.\n\n\"An' he feeded us, too, li'l baby! He feeded us with *plane packets*! But mister man doesn't like 'em, I guess, 'cause he doesn't eat much...\"\n\nHis stomach churned, an empty cocktail of bile and acid twisted through his guts.\n\nSeven days; it'd been *seven* days since he'd eaten a bite. He hadn't had much before that, either. He rationed their food, or at least he tried. He knew the rescue was coming, so the priority had always been the kid. She needed to eat; he could do without. And he did. But the days passed, then *weeks*. The weather outside got colder, and his stomach drew tighter. Did they know where the plane crashed?\n\nWere they *ever* coming?\n\nThe food was all gone, now. His stomach was all knots, and he barely had the strength to move.\n\n\"...when the nice people come'n get us we won't *hafta* eat plane packets, li'l baby! We'll have spaghetti, an' roast beef, an' macaroni, an...\"\n\nSpit welled up in the corners of his mouth; it pained his gums. He deliriously followed along with the girl's list, soundlessly mouthing out each delicious food she mentioned with his blistered lips.\n\nHis eyes moved away from the girl's doll; they wandered over to the kid's little legs, and he watched as she kicked them back and forth. Those little legs: they looked... so very plump...\n\nThe spit in his mouth burned his tongue.\n\n\"An' then we'll find mommy 'n daddy, cause those sillies got themselves lost! We'll find 'em, an then...\"\n\nThe little girl looked up at the man as he pulled himself off the floor and started crawling over to her. His eyes were wide, and the drool spilled freely down his chin.\n\n\"Oh!\" The girl grinned happily. \"Here's mister man, li'l baby!\" She said. \"Are we gonna eat now, mister man?\"\n\nHe crawled toward her, his emaciated limbs twitching like a spider's, and a distant grin formed on his face:\n\n\"Yeah, kid. *We* are...\"\n\n" ]

[ 1, 2, 3, 16 ]

[ "1406092494", "1406114763", "1406076393", "1406077970" ]

[ "The artefact had crashed into a small house up in Svalbard. A elderly couple were just settling down for their dinner when this meteorite had smashed through the roof and blown up their kitchen table. It had then been transported all the way to Oslo, where it was being cleaned up and examined.\n\nWhile the meteorite seemed to fall away under pressure, the slab of iron inside was like nothing anyone had ever seen. It seemed to pulse and occasionally shake, as if it was trying to move back somewhere, with it often it trying to shuffle out of the lab where it was being examined. A circular hole seemed to be milled into the base of the artefact, with the remnants of what seemed to be a wooden handle fixed into it. The wood could not be matched with any tree found on Earth and it had sustained no burn marks on entry into the atmosphere, but had somehow been splintered before it landed. \n\nAny attempt to chip or strip the metal resulted in tools shattering and even trying to heat the block caused blowtorches to run out of fuel and not make an impression on the metal, or it burning a hole through the surface it was placed on. However, the block already had a faded inscription along the edges of it, with them resembling Elder Futhark runes. It took days of cleaning and translation to discover what these runes meant. This is what the inscription said.\n\n'MJOLNIR, PROPERTY OF THOR. IF LOST, PLEASE RETURN TO ASGARD. IF THE JOTNAR HAVE STOLEN THIS AGAIN, I'M COMING FOR YOU.'", "Might add more when I get the chance. Consider this a first pass rough draft. Got halfway through and realised how ambitious I was being.\n--\n\n\"And it fell from the sky?\"\n\n\"Yessir. Destroyed my house. Surely you saw it in the news?\"\n\n\"Well, yes, but...\" The museum curator shrugged helplessly. \"It would take some powerful tools to cut this inscription. But it's thousands of years old.\" \n\nThe sunlight was streaming in through the windows, casting long black shadows across the floor. A heat wave had the country in its fiery grip.\n\nThey talked about the metal for some time as the evening drew in and quiet descended on the building. It was almost night when the door exploded inwards and a scrawny man in a too-big sweatshirt stormed in. Thick glasses obscured his face. \n\n\"Sutr has risen. Jormungandor threatens this realm. I require my weapon.\"\n\n\"You require your what...?\"\n\n\"Hammer. The hammer that has fallen to the mortal realm. It is in your possession.\"\n\n\"You mean this?\" The curator pointed at the lump of iron.\n\n\"Mjolnir. Aye. If Midgard is to be saved I must take it now.\"\n\n\"This is property of -\"\n\nThe scrawny man crossed the room with startling speed and lifted the curator by his neck. \"I have no issue with you, mortal. But the All Father has succumbed to Fenrir and my brother is locked in combat with the Wolf. It is my duty to defeat Jormungandor and return to his side.\"\n\n\"You mean the world serpent?\"\n\n\"The same,\" said the man, taking the meteorite from the desk. A tremor shook the building as he touched it. \"The Serpent is on its way. This is as good a battlefield as any.\"\n\n\"You think you're Thor?\"\n\nThe man didn't reply. He just held the iron and closed his eyes, setting his captive down gently. Gasping for air, the curator scuttled into the corner of the room.\n\nLightning struck the building.\n\nThe change in Thor wasn't immediately obvious. In his hand the metal had taken the form of a hammer, simple and grey in its design, and the clothes looked more filled out, but he was the same man he had been moments before.\n\n\"I am Thor.\"\n\n\"You die, you know. The poems say you kill the serpent but...\"\n\n\"There is a difference between prophecy and destiny.\"\n\nSomething threw a shadow over the building. A bestial roar shattered the glass. The Serpent was outside. It had defeated Thor in Asgard, casting him to Midgard, and it had followed, looking to end the battle. Sutr's army was engaged against the Dwarves, Freyr was readying her weapons and Earth was about to be caught in the middle of the final battle.\n\n\"It is my intention to defy prophecy and forge my own destiny.\"\n" ]

[ 2, 10 ]

[ "1406218275", "1406216452" ]

[ "He lay defeated, on his knees before the enemies he swore to defeat. The Joker, Ra's Al Ghul, Penquin, Bane, Two-Face, Riddler, Poison Ivy, Scarcrow, and Mr. Freeze all stood over Batman. Each one with decades of stories and battles that never seemed to end. He would always win, every time, he would win and evil would fail. That was the only way he could comfort himself. The city he protected for so many years burned around him, chaos running rampant through the streets. \n\n\"Everything burns.\" said the Joker with his trademark smile. The Joker looked around and smiled even more saying, \"Ya'know bat, I never thought we would win. The truth is I loved the game. We would escape, cause some chaos, and you would eventually throw us back in Arkham. Over and over and over again we would play the game and I didn't mind. It was fun, really, but the time has come bat. It's time for you and your friends to die.\" The Joker danced around the fallen Batman while laughing maniacally, and kicked him. He screamed in pain. As if seeing his friends, lovers, and his second father lying on the ground around him drenched in gasoline wasn't torture enough. \n\nThey all struggled against the restrains, except for Alfred. Alfred knew that what was happening could not be stopped, and he wept silently. The Joker snatched Two-Faces' cigar and flicked it. Batman watched in horror as the ember rich cigar flew through the air. The air caught ablaze before it even hit the ground. Batman managed to stand and he watched as everyone he loved burned. The evil psychopaths that stood before him laughed like wild banshees as they rejoiced, they had finally beaten the bat. \n\nBatman screamed at the top of his lungs with pure anger and hatred. At this his enemies began another bout of laughter, they didn't notice that he had taken a small device from his belt. It was a simple button, a button that would destroy Gotham, a button that would finally rid the world of the evil that stood mighty and proud before him, a button that would ultimately kill millions of innocent people. It was the only way. \n\nBatman tore off his mask. The disguise didn't matter now, everyone he ever cared about was dead or dying. Harvey was the first to notice. \"Wayne.\" was all Two-Face could say in that moment of shock and anger. Bruce spoke, \" I am Bruce Wayne, and I am the Batman.\" The group of enemies then realized that the Batman had nothing left to lose, they had taken everything from him. \"You were right Harvey, all those years ago, you were right.\" His last thought was of something Harvey had said a long time ago, \"You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.\" He said this as he pressed the button. \n\nBatman had become both, the hero that sacrificed himself to save the world, and the only villain to truly become Gothams' reckoning. \n\n::\n\nWas Bruce Wayne: The Batman remembered as a hero, or was he remembered as just another villain?\n\nYou decide.\n\n::", "Nobody noticed at first.\n\nIt wasn't surprising, really - there wasn't a single nutjob in Gotham that hadn't made an appearance in the last two weeks. TV pundits across the country were practically gleeful over the number of psychotic felons to choose for their \"special\" reports. Siege on Gotham, Gotham Carnage, Gotham's Darkest Night - every network had their own name for the wave of violence and destruction. Hell, one of 'em even tried on Gotham: Bloodstorm, but that one didn't go over too well. Two weeks, and every day, things just got worse. Arkham Asylum and Blackgate Prison both blew up on the first day - kind of a cross between an opening shot and a dam bursting. The big names made their customary splashes, of course - Two-Face took over City Hall, Poison Ivy murdered anyone who set foot in the Botanical Gardens without her approval, Bane smashed every police station on the map, Scarecrow started preaching the \"Gospel of Fear\" from a church. \n\nIt was the crazies and the lowlifes that didn't make the headlines that took it from a breakout to something beyond, though. Gotham almost understood how the major players worked, after all - they'd read about them, see them on TV, and get a sense of how they thought. But the no-name guys were like rabid wolves. They couldn't be appeased, they couldn't be predicted, and there were too many of them to be stopped. They hated anything with a badge - before the Gotham news stations stopped broadcasting, they'd reported that the police force had been cut in half in less than four days. Some of the reporters had been terrified enough by that point that they were actually accusing the Penguin of supplying the inmates with weapons. He was, of course, but usually the threat of Cobblepot's legal flock was enough to keep any rumors off the air. \n\nOnce the local TV stations went down, it was almost like the city had rolled over and shown its belly. Police were refusing to go outside, half the communication towers in the city were torn down, and the only warning most people had that danger was near was the screaming of the bastards unlucky enough to be closer to the slaughter. Most of the bigwigs got out by then - the Mayor had been driven out of the city the first day. The Kanes stuck around until day three, when the older one nearly died in the crossfire between the Mad Hatter and some girl named Alice. Likewise, Commissioner Gordon was evacuated after a whole bunch of people tried to kill him. Last count was eight tries in one day, before his daughter supposedly chloroformed him and stuck him on the last police chopper. Lucius Fox, the guy Bruce Wayne lets run his company, led an evacuation by land, sea, and air of any of his employees that he could. Wayne himself supposedly caught the first chopper out, which wasn't exactly surprising. Didn't save his butler, though - I heard he bought it when a few of the less-crazy crazies decided to band together and rob Wayne Manor. Typical rich asshole, never giving a shit about the poor guys in need.\n\nOf course, the Bat was around, for all the good he did at first. He must've called in every favor he had, because every third guy had a story about seeing one of the Bat-crew. Batman, Robin, Red Robin, Batgirl, Batwoman, Huntress, Nightwing, that Red Hood guy, even the new blood - Batwing and Bluebird. (And yeah, we know all the names. You don't do business in this town without learning about them REAL fast.) Hell, even Catwoman was officially on the side of the angels for a change. Didn't matter, though - all they did was keep the city from going quick. Every person they saved, there were three more getting raped or crippled or killed somewhere else. Not to mention, every inmate they stopped was one more person to keep in a city that was damn near out of cells. The makeshift holding areas they used were near worthless - the less psychotic members of the breakout wanted foot soldiers, and weren't afraid to go recruiting.\n\nSo, that's how it went, for over a week. Some of the city had a semblance of civilization - Penguin, Black Mask, Bane - they all carved out their tiny little empires, while the rest of Gotham burned. You were in good if you were in one of their areas. I hid out in Penguin's - he and I go back, and I always kept a little bit tucked away in case something like this went down. The Bat-people left our areas alone, for the most part - there was at least some semblance of order. What nobody put together right away, though - all the reports of the Bat-people... but nobody was talking about the Batman himself. People just chalked it up to him being elsewhere, probably in the worst of things, where stories weren't coming out. And when a few more people from the riot zones started coming into the 'civilized' areas, they only confirmed what we were already thinking. Batman was working some kind of plan - more people were coming out, fewer crazies were on the streets. Nobody knew where he was sticking them once he caught them, though there was a juicy bounty out for that bit of info. The chance to get more recruits, AND maybe a cache of Bat-toys? Whoever pulled that secret out of the rubble would've been a wealthy man.\n\nThe first hint we got that something was different was when the rest of the Bat-people suddenly dropped out of sight. It was day nine - or 'Day None', as some smart-asses put it. As in, none of the good guys were anywhere to be found. Some people nearly lost it once the news spread - there were rumors of military bombardment, or being sealed off again like in NML. Most of the criminals were nearly ready to declare a holiday, of course. The bars that were still left nearly ran dry at the thought of no more Bats. Drinking, singing, eating everything in sight, celebration with any woman they could get their hands on... it was the same all over. The smart guys, though, they caught on quicker than we did. They sent out \"procurement parties\", supposedly to replace all the food and drink people had happily guzzled down. Of course, to go \"find\" supplies, they brought as much firepower as they could spare... a brutal group of thugs for any civilians still hoarding goods... and a big, fat target for any Bat-people. If they were still out there, a few parties might get hit, but at least the guys in charge would know the whole vanishing act was bull.\n\nNot one person came back." ]

[ 2, 7 ]

[ "1406278276", "1406268593" ]

[ "The man turned away from the gallery, away from the thunderous applause, determined eyes bright with unshed tears. Six months. They couldn’t even wait six damned months. His hair was grey around the temples, and his face lined and creased – stress having aged him thirty years in less than ten.\n\nA camera appeared in his face. An reporter – some young airbrushed woman in a smart business suit was there with a microphone as well.\n\n“Mr Obama! Mr Obama! Following today’s repeal of the Affordable Healthcare Act, and the Environment Protection Agency Enforcement Act, can you tell us how you feel about the Republican decisions?”\n\nSomething told him this was a time to be diplomatic. To choose his words with care and precision. Those instincts were leftover from his time in the White House.\n\n“How do I feel? I feel disappointed certainly. This is, ahh, a defeat for every working American, a legislative disaster, that is, ahh, not going to allow this country to be as great as….it could be.”\n\n“How do you respond to allegations by President Rubio that you have ‘kept secrets from the American People’?”\n\nThe man laughed bitterly. He still had one ally left, and his next words would move them to act.\n\nIn six months he had gone from the most powerful man in the world to a daily struggle. Vindictive political enemies had taken aim and destroyed everything he had built, and then gotten to work on his family. Relationships destroyed around him. People he once called friends had shunned him. Hypocritical enforcement of taxation rules had left him with nothing. His family had been hounded and harassed. He - and they - quite literally had nothing left to lose.\n\n “Secrets! Every President has maintained secrets! You want to know one of the biggest ones? Aliens. Intelligent Extraterrestial beings exist, and have been visiting Earth since 1978.”\n\nThe reporter stared, her eyes as huge as his had been when that truth had been laid on him.\n\n“A…aliens? Like Roswell?”\n\n“Roswell was a weather balloon crash. You want to look for a crash in Fairbanks, Alaska in 1978”\n\n“Sir…You’re being completely serious? This isn’t some sort of joke?”\n\n“Miss, I am completely serious.” Barack could already see three Secret Service men charging towards them. “And if I were you, I’d get out and publish that before those men take your tape. Tell your editor that if he wants proof; Caldwell, Ohio. 4:00pm tomorrow.”\n\nThe reporter turned and ran, ignoring the shouted demand to halt and surrender her camera.\n\n----\n\n“You think he’s serious?”\n\n“Completely, sir. The former President was completely serious. He said that if you wanted proof, ‘Caldwell, Ohio, 4pm tomorrow.”\n\nSenior Editor James Johnstone, known as JJ to the newsroom of ANNA leaned back in his chair, and tried to convince himself that the sudden lurching sensation in his stomach was vibrations from the builders downstairs.\n\n“Annette, we…can’t just publish that.”\n\n“Why not?”\n\n“Because we’d get laughed out of the building, the city, the entire news industry! Aliens don’t exist! That’s the realm of tin-foiled crackpot nutters! He had to have been pulling your leg!”\n\n“I don’t think he was.”\n\n“Annette, you’ve got talent, but you’ve only been working here for ten weeks. You’ve been suckered. There’s no story here. Just an old man trying to upset an applecart for no reason.”\n\nJJ rummaged around in his desk and pulled out a dossier. \n\n“Here Case 44753. Cops just caught the Norther Slasher over in Mountain Home, Idaho. That’s a good story. Martin and Bale are going to be furious I gave it to you, but it’s a top-billing segment. We need an on-the-scene report for breakfast tomorrow. You’d better get going.”\n\nAnnette reluctantly returned to her desk in the chattering room. She looked at the two files on her desk. The Norther Slasher had been terrorising the North-West for months. His capture was big news. On the other hand…aliens. This was bigger news. Her hand hovered over the phone as she made a decision.\n\n“Bob? It’s Annette. Going to need an itinerary. Case ID #44753. Air travel - I need the first plane to Columbus, Ohio, and then a car. And book me a motel in Caldwell, Ohio.”\n\n------\nWith the sun descending towards the hills, there was a cool breeze in the air. Annette stood outside the Caldwell Courthouse. Population of around 2000, the place was a direct copy-paste of the popular image of small-town America. \n\nA small, curious crowd of on-lookers was gathering, attracted by her modern car, camera equipment and an obviously irritated cameraman that was muttering imprecations quietly to himself. Her phone was on silent, with fifteen curse-filled and furious messages from JJ. She hadn’t actually listened to the last ten, nervously sure that she was “so fired” by now.\n\nShe checked her watch again. 3:58pm.\n\nBirds chirped, cars rumbled, and the low murmuring of curious townsfolk filled the autumn air. \n\nThere was a change in the pitch of traffic, and a black SUV rounded the corner. Tinted windows obscured all view inside, but its height and shape promised power and strength. It pulled to a halt.\n\nAnnette found she wasn’t really surprised to see four people emerge – a man, a woman and their two children. They stood on the sidewalk, clusted close together. A fifth person – apparently the driver also got out, and stood away from them.\n\nThe church bells rang out four peals at the precise second that the sun dipped behind the Courthouse. \n\nA sound much like a foghorn sounded, and the shadows grew far deeper. The wind shifted directions, an unexpected downdraft blasting onto the street and scattering leaves. \n\nLooking up, a massive black *thing* hovered in the sky. It wasn’t a classic ‘saucer’, but neither was it easily identifiable. If anything, its shape seemed to shift and adjust every few seconds. There were no strobing lights, no white-lit windows with mysterious silhouettes. It was just a huge, black *wrong* presence. \n\nHer cameraman was finally silent as he panned his equipment over the apparition. Annette looked towards the family, just in time to see them vanish in a wave of sparks. \nThey just seemed to disintegrate, much like some sort of Star Trek transporter. She thought for a fraction of a second that the man smiled directly at her.\n\nThen the foghorn sounded again, and the *thing* was just gone – the only sign of its passing a momentary updraft of wind.\n\nThe fifth man from the SUV walked up towards Annette. Her cameraman was filming the scene and the reactions of excited townsfolk.\n\n“Journalist Annette? My name is John Smith.”\n\n“What…what just happened?”\n\n“I’ve been authorized to give you an explanation, and answer any questions you have. By order of the Council, you are authorised to disseminate it for publication. Do you accept this bargain?”\n\n“I…ah….sure. Mark! Camera!”\n\nThe picture focused on her and the driver.\n\n“My name is John Smith. I am not human. In fact, I come from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of the star you call Procyon….”\n", "At 4:00pm, in a press conference, President Barack Obama issued a statement. \"Intelligent life forms have been visiting Earth for decades.\" he said. When asked further, the president refused to give any more information. \n\nThat afternoon, Dale Gribble went out to the alley, popped open an Alamo, took a drag of his cigarette, and said \"I told you so.\"" ]

[ 1, 2 ]

[ "1406348917", "1406340760" ]

[ "**This is a work in progress still**\nI plan to just come back here and tap away a little whenever I wish I had the guts to do something like your prompt. I'm sure it's incredibly rough and most likely does not even make sense AT ALL yet.\n\nJuly 7th, 2014 ~\n\nI've read the books. Jesus, I've read all of the fucking books. I know all of the traits that successful people possess and all of the reason why it's okay to be a wallflower. Yet, I'm still hallow, unambitious, unmotivated and unremarkable. People used to tell me that I had potential that I could do great things and I would be special, what horrible things to say. I never asked to have such lofty expectations worn around my neck -- I'm suffocating.\n\nJuly 8th, 2014 ~\n\nThe other night, maybe Thursday, I sent four texts in a row to Molly. She ignored me. I decided that night that it was time to give up, worse things happen to people than dying all of the time. I hadn't even enjoyed her company a couple of months ago, I thought she was generally unattractive and not really my type. Now I can't stop thinking about her and the way that she can talk to anyone. I can't stop thinking about how we made out drunkenly and told me that no matter what she said when she was sober she actually did love having me around. Why does this always happen to me, why do I fall in love with any women who acknowledges my presence? I guess if I knew why I did what I do, I wouldn't feel so out of control.\n\nJuly 12th, 2014 ~\n\nI read over my last journal entry and decided that it was a pretty silly reason for killing myself. After that I questioned deeper, are there really any good reasons for ending it? I'm sure there are, but I sure as hell couldn't think of any. I mean, once you decide that your life ins't worth living anymore you're giving up everything; when you lose everything you're free to do anything. (I think that's from Fight Club, have I really become that guy who regurgitates mantras that he adopted from a movie about a book he hasn't even read.) I) It makes sense, when you let your crippling anxiety stop you from living your life why wouldn't it also stop your from not living it? God I'm such a spineless scrub.\n\nJuly 12th, 2014 ~\n\nI can't sleep, again. It's like every time I lay my head down all I think about how scared I am of doing anything I love. I want to be an outgoing person who fills his life with things he's gravitated to, I want to be busy and I want to be a warm, confident person. I don't think wanting is enough. In fact, I know it. What else is there, how can I become like those people who know what they want to do?\n\n", "(Sorry about the length, I got sucked in. I even caught myself writing in first person at times.)\n\nIn a self-imposed, faux-catatonic state the man stared blanky at a notepad. He only convinced himself further of the futility of life as the only thing present on the notepad was the number \"1\" and a parenthesis followed by nothing. It had been like that for three hours.\n\nLooking for inspiration he decided to start a web search on places to visit before death. Beautiful beaches, lush jungles, ancient ruins, and the great metropolises of the world all shower his findings. He was surrounded by beauty everyday. Seeing something breathtaking wasn't going to fix anything.\n\nGoing a more basic route, he searched for popular bucket lists.\n\nIf he was a socialite who loved hiking and carpentry, maybe those ideas would have been decent.\n\nModifiers piled onto his search criteria to specify lists targeting like-minded people. Words like depressed, lonely, anxious, suicidal, and desperate were among these.\n\nA strangely titled site had been produced from this exclusive set of preferences.\n\n*The Ultimate Guide to Killing Yourself*, it read.\n\n\"That can't be a good sign,\" he said aloud to himself.\n\nIntrigue is a powerful friend and foe. The so-called guide offered a series of actions one should perform before killing themselves. \n\nIt began simply with the shedding of material possessions. If you are wealthy, then makes sure you are worth nothing before you go any further. He wondered what it would be like to be wealthy and suicidal.\n\nMaterial possessions aside, the next step was to find someone from your past who had a significant influence on you without them ever knowing. The stronger the emotion they evoke, the better. An old crush, for instance, would be worthwhile. Alternatively, an old bully would also be acceptable. However, the point was to write a letter to each of those people and explain how they shaped you in a positive way.\n\nA crush might inspire romantic gesture, where a bully might serve as a reminder of how you yourself had chosen not to hurt someone when tempted.\n\nHe stopped reading the guide after this. The idea of confessing his emotions to now complete strangers was crippling to him. He believed that no one, outside his family, had ever thought about him once after they cut ties. He understood the incentive to give these people a flattering letter or a message of forgiveness. The point was too much of a hassle for temporary gratification.\n\nA memory came to him suddenly. He remembered receiving a letter from, David, an old colleague with a similar context. The letter thanked him for driving him to and from work after David received a DUI. He thought nothing of it at the time and had since left the job. He assumed David still worked there.\n\nHe decided to text Bailey, who he knew still worked there, about David.\n\nWhile he waited for a response he stared at the list he was trying to start. Admittedly, he knew he fought with himself for being too stubborn to try new things. People can become deeply settled in their comfort zones, but it's the new experiences that make life worthwhile. Even though this knowledge sat in his brain, it did him no good.\n\nHe began to skim the rest of the *Ultimate Guide* to see how else it forced emotionally crippled people to magically overcome themselves before they undo themselves. One note of taking on a creative project that symbolized their greatest fears seemed intriguing. It suggested the reader attempt any form of art and manifest their fears into reality. He liked that one.\n\nHis phone buzzed. He picked it up.\n\nBailey responded with a very brief, but telling text.\n\n\"Nobody told you?\" she wrote.\n\nHe didn't feel it necessary to respond, but she followed up anyway.\n\n\"He passed away. I thought Peter would've told you. David was in a bad place, we all knew it. I still feel guilty for not trying to be a better friend. I guess I'm too shy myself.\"\n\nHer words were familiar. Bailey was an exceedingly good person. The kind most decent guys feel unworthy of being with. He felt a twinge of compassion for her guilt at the cost of her shyness.\n\n\"I think most people hide to much. You shouldn't feel guilty.\" He decided to respond out of good manners.\n\nA rather lengthy conversation unfolded late into the night. They share a lot of stories about work, then and now. She mentions, in her words, that she had missed seeing his face. Catching himself completely by surprise, he asks Bailey if she would like to get together sometime and spend some more time catching up in person. This kind of move was not in his normal deck. She shows her approval with a strangely excessive amount of enthusiasm mostly in the form of repeated exclamation marks.\n\nThey text each other good night somewhere around five in the morning. He stares at the phone as if it had just winked at him. After pause and reflection, he grabs the notepad and scribbles for two seconds.\n\nHe slides into his sheets and sighs nervously.\n\nThe notepad read, \"1) try.\"\n\nIt was the sigh of excitement." ]

[ 5, 23 ]

[ "1406354295", "1406359892" ]

[ "\"Good morning, Ben,\" Timothy groggily greeted him. Mornings were not his favorite time of day. Ben made a quick wave with his left hand.\n\"Yeesh, did you have a bad weekend?\" Timothy asked with concern. Timothy had known Ben since Ben started working at this warehouse. It wasn't that Ben used his non dominate had to wave that concerned him, it was his drastically smaller number today.\n\"Hey man, ya, I laid down my bike on Saturday. This asshole pickup truck decided to pull a full stop on the freeway. I swerved to avoid him and lost control.\" Ben responded holding his right arm gingerly.\n\"Holy shit dude, what did the cops say?\" Timothy asked.\n\"Man, by the time I got to my feet, the asshat was gone. Since I had to fucking skid off the right side of the road, not one fucker even stopped.\" Ben colorfully explained.\n\"So what did you do?\" Timothy was getting nervous. Ben's number was staring to drop faster. \"Do you want to sit down? Let me get you some water.\"\n\"Shit, that's not a bad idea,\" Ben reluctantly agreed, wincing as he let his body weight plop into the chair. Ben shifted in the chair towards his left side, letting out a sigh of relief. As Ben let out the breath, Timothy could see his number slow down. Feeling better about Ben, Timothy walked over to the break room to get Ben some water.\n\nTimothy hated the numbers. It started after he got his job here at the warehouse. He had been working overtime doing picking. Ten hours a day he was looking at aisle, shelf, bin numbers. Then Christmas season hit. The warehouse had him working 14 hour shifts. They were always understaffed. He loved it because of all the overtime he was earning. He was saving up for a nice ring to give his girlfriend.\nIt was after work on the 10th of December when he first saw her number. He had just finished a 14 hour shift, came home to see Rebecca laying in their bed, asleep. Timothy laughed it off and crawled into bed. He thought it was just the warehouse picking numbers playing games with him.\nA week later a number started appearing on more people's heads.\nOn the 18th, Timothy convinced his boss to give him a mental health day. He needed to have a clear day of playing video games to get his mind off the numbers. He set up on the couch, pillow on one side, blanket on the other. He wanted a lot of support for the marathon session of the new zombie game. He was surprised to see that the characters in this shooter game all had numbers too. The game went on, with all of his cohorts numbers getting smaller as they fought through looters get closer to the zombie area. Every time he healed his teammates, he could see their number slow, then increase. He liked this gameplay. As he progressed through the game, it got harder to be save his teammates. He would watch as they hit zero them grotesquely changed into zombies. The weird part for Timothy was seeing their numbers go negative.\nNegative numbers made sense logically, but Timothy didn't understand why the game makers would include it for the player to see. So he pulls out his phone to google, trying to find out what other people thought. He couldn't find a single thread about it. No results on google images either. He posted to /r/gaming, but was down voted to oblivion. His stomach growled.\nLooking through the cupboards in the kitchen, he realized there wasn't much of anything to eat. His brain was still reeling from trying to find out what the numbers meant. Pizza is what he needed. Delivery was how he was going to get it. After ordering, he went to shower to clear his mind. The rain shower head Rebecca had begged him to install was totally worth it. It was so relaxing he had to summon up the energy to get out. Ding-dong.\nAnd that's when he first met Ben.\nTimothy rushed to the door. The doorbell had knocked his stomach out of the relaxed state and nearly gurgled louder than the door bell.\n\"Hey man, you order a pizza?\" Ben asked. Timothy just stared at him.\n\"Shit, are you deaf or something?\" Ben asked again. A smile rose out of one cheek.\n\"HEY DEAF GUY, CAN YOU READ LIPS OR SOMETHING?\" Ben yelled. His amusement was waning as Timothy just kept staring. Ben decided to open the pizza box and force Timothy to smell it. Timothy snapped out of his trance.\n\"Yeah, yeah, sorry, totally just zoned out.\" Timothy stumbled out. \"How old are you?\"\n\"That's a mighty fucking personal question, don't you think?\" An offended Ben asked. \"How about you fucking pay for this pizza and I'll answer your question.\"\n\"Right, right,\" Timothy responded, grabbing his wallet while still staring at Ben. The number, Timothy thought to himself, was going down fast. Just like in the video game. He paid Ben then did the awkward shuffle of taking the pizza and soda from him. He was nearly back to his jalopy when Timothy yelled at him, asking for his age.\nBen stopped in his tracks. He didn't have any more pizzas to deliver, and this guy had tipped him the whole cost of the pizza.\n\"Twenty seven.\" Ben hollered back.\n\"Do you want some pizza?\" Timothy asked. Ben was reluctant.\nTimothy could see Ben's number slowing from full blur. He tested his theory again.\n\"Come on, it's just me here, and I don't want to eat this whole thing myself. My name's Timothy.\"\nBen stared at the freshly showered guy. What did he have to lose, he thought to himself. He held up a finger telling Timothy to wait. Ben flipped open his taped together phone and texted the manager saying he was taking a lunch break. He was pretty sure he could overpower this Timothy if he tried anything weird. Wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to him in his life.\nTimothy nearly squealed when he saw Ben close his phone. The numbers had slowed more!\nHours later, they had finished the pizza and were starting to form a new friendship. Timothy learned how much Ben hated his job, but how it was all he could find after dropping out of high school. Then it clicked in Timothy's brain.\n\"Do you want a job at my warehouse?\"\n\"What? Naw, I couldn't do that. That shit takes brains.\" Ben dismissed.\n\"Seriously! We are in need of a ton of help. I'm working crazy hours, and it know the boss would hire you if I vouched for you.\" Timothy exclaimed. Ben stared at him. Timothy was shocked at how slow the numbers changed now. He knew he was on the right path.\n\nThe next day Timothy took Ben to the warehouse manager for the interview. Ben came out of the office all sullen looking. His number was a blur again. Timothy was confused.\n\"What happened!?\" Timothy asked.\n\"Well...\" Ben slowly responded. His frown was slowly changing expressions. \"...I...uh...got...to...figure out how to how to...-\"\n \"To what?\" Timothy interrupted. He was dedicated to helping Ben now. \"I'll go in there and quit if that's what it takes to get you hired.\"\nBen chuckled, \"I have to figure out how to take my stupid car sign back to the pizza place!\"\nTimothy was relieved. That's when he realized Ben's number was blurry because it was going up, not down.\n\nTimothy grabbed the paper cup and filled it with water from the water cooler. This wasn't the first time that he had seen Ben's number drop after a weekend. Ben certainly liked to \"live life to the fullest\" now that he had a job he liked and that paid well. But this was different. His number was dropping again.\nTimothy brought the water back to Ben, who was clearly in pain. Timothy asked, \"What did the doctors say?\"\n\"Shit, those doctors would take one look at me and rip my organs out and sell them.\" Ben gruffly responded.\n\"That's not true. You know you have insurance through the warehouse right?\" Timothy explained. He was flabbergasted at Ben's response. \"Why would you think that?\"\n\"Because I ride a motorcycle, duh.\"\n\"Let me take you.\"\n\"I don't date dudes.\"\n\"You know what I mean. It's March, there isn't much to do here.\" Timothy pleaded. He left Ben to find his manager to explain so they could leave. The manager agreed hastily to get Ben to the hospital. He just wanted to make sure there would be no workman's comp claim. Timothy assured him there wouldn't then drove Ben to the hospital.\nThe doctors found three fractured ribs, a broken wrist, and some internal bleeding. Timothy wasn't allowed to watch while they were doing the surgery. He could only focus on Ben's number while he waited. It had slowed since the doctors found out what was wrong, but was lower than anyone's he had seen in a long time. Timothy found his mind wondering through all the low numbers. He tried to not look at the other people waiting in the emergency room. He sat with his face in his hands. So many people, so many numbers changing. Some rapidly, some slowly.\n\"Hey there stranger,\" a voice came through his racing mind. Timothy looked up to see more numbers.\n\"Hey!\" He greeted the stranger back. \"What are you doing here? Did my boss tell you?\" He asked as he realized Rebecca was standing in front of him.\n\"Ya, he called me to let me know you were coming here...but I think he was also checking up to see if you were really coming here.\" She responded. She was about to go on when the surgeon came up.\nHis cap was in his hands, his face furrowed. He started with \"I'm sorry\" and Timothy lost it. He couldn't believe his friend was dead. The low numbers. He realized the last time his saw them that low was in his video game. He hated himself for not taking Ben sooner. He hugged Rebecca and wiped up his tears as the surgeon gave his final condolences. Ben thanked the surgeon for his work and shook his hand.\n\"Do you want to go home?\" Rebecca asked.\n\"Ya, let's go.\" Timothy sniffed through his swollen eyes and throat. Rebecca took his hand and lead him out through the ER automatic doors. She was too good to him, he thought. As they stepped outside, the sun's glare made his eyes squint. He looked at Rebecca confusingly.\n\"Are you sure you're okay?\" She worriedly asked again.\nTimothy fell to his knees, looked her over again, then smiled proud.\n\t\nRebecca had two numbers.\n\nedit: new guy formatting problems.", "They came in flashes at first. A blink of red out of the corner of your eye. As you grew older, they stayed for longer. You realised that they were numbers, like the ones on old calculators and alarm clocks. At first you thought it was the time, that this was some stupid, fancy new watch. But they were all different and kept counting down. Most of the time the numbers were huge, in the millions, even billions. \n\nBut last year, you saw 4. So you followed, watching the number stay the same for about a minute before it flashed to 3. You were surprised, it was the first time you had directly watched the number change. Then a car came barreling down the road and she was hit. You ran to help, but your legs weren't fast enough. You watched the windshield splinter, and the car veer sideways. You heard the screech of tyres blend with her scream. You felt her bones break and smelt blood and burnt rubber. You watched the number flash to 1. Then :59. \n\nAnd you knew. You finally understood what the number were and you ran the other way. \n\nYou see them on everyone now, even on animals. And it dries your throat and weighs down your stomach. You can't stand hospitals, shopping centres and parks. You had to quit your job, but you make a living off betting when people die. \n\nEvery morning you wake up and you don't know whether to cheer or to smash the mirror. You do neither and watch movies with dead actors instead. ", "Do I want to know? I stood on the front steps as I slowly considered my options, pacing back and forth. Creating a path as the freshly fallen snow collected to either side of the path. I told myself no matter what it said that I would not let her know her fate. I had passed strangers all day as their clock counted down. Years, months, days. They say ignorance is bliss.\n\nThe cold brass brought me back into the moment as I turned the knob slowly as to not wake her. The weather had second thoughts as the ghostly winds blew past me and echoed through the still unfamiliar house. It had an eerie feel to it but it was a new start. The old house reminded both of us too much of the memories of my wife... her mom. \n\n\"Daddy....\" timidly she calls from the top of the staircase. \"I couldn't sleep... the wind is scary.\" She takes a step forward and my stomach drops. Ok. Don't scare her. She is young now but every day she looks more like her mother. I start to think of all the plans her mother had and how much easier this would be with her here. On what high school she is going to go to, her college, first boyfriends and first heart breaks. imagining the speech you already had planned for the first boy she brings home, how you would be sitting in the chair next to the... It all fades away.\n\n I hold back tears, I cant let her see. I turn to face the door I just came through. My stomach dropped. Even lower than when the doctor told me my high school sweet heart's cancer had progressed too far for surgery. Lower than when I had to explain why mommy couldn't talk. This new pain. When I saw her forehead. As she ticked down.. from 15 minutes. \n\nI told her we were going to go for a ride. She reached for her coat, and to put on her boots. She looked at me with a look of concern and confusion as I stopped her before she put on either. I carried her outside. Into the snow and wind I trudged to the car. I put her in her car seat giving her a kiss on the forehead, I couldn't bear to tell her we were going to the hospital. Every time we drive past I still see her head drop and a tear form in the corner of her eye. But if she has any chance, it is there. I reached into the front, starting the car to keep her warm. I run to grab a shovel to uncover the car, buried in the snow, the strongest storm in years. Covering up to the trunk and past the exhaust. \n\nI look at my watch. Shes out of time. I decide the most important thing is to be with her. I open the door and sit next to her shutting the door behind me. She closes her eyes as I feel her cheek but all I feel is cold. I can't tell whether it is her skin or my cold hands. I do not know what I could have done to save her. Maybe it was her time. Everyone has a time. And as I look up I see in the rear view mirror my own counting down the final seconds. I hold her hand and cry, but tears of joy, knowing that maybe we can finally all be together. Somewhere sunny.\n\n\nBREAKING NEWS: Father and Daughter killed in car due to carbon monoxide poisoning. " ]

[ 2, 3, 10 ]

[ "1406374841", "1406361995", "1406362407" ]

[ "I didn't realize when I opened my eyes that the colours weren't the same. \nThe purple dyes splashed across the walls, the crisp baby blues of finger painted canvases hung proudly for all to see. I didn't even realize they were different. At first.\nMy eyes didn't seem to want to stay open. In the back of my mind I thought, 'after yesterday, it's a miracle I got up at all.' \nThat was all it took to get the memories rolling. My mind was the cinema, and the high-pitched screams of delight were in surround sound. \nMy body went through the motions, brushing teeth, pouring cereal, but my heart wasn't in it. My heart was stuck 16 hours in the past. \nI wondered vaguely what I had picked for breakfast this morning, already forgotten as a backdrop to my replay of the water-park. \nMoving to get milk, because that's what my body was trained to do, I hardly registered the pain that shot up my leg from stepping on a mouse trap. I had forgotten it was there, and look at that, I had forgotten to put socks on.\nI didn't forget yesterday. I didn't get hurt yesterday.\nI ate my cereal, bland and tasteless, and thought more about how good, how spectacular the day before was. \n'Wow, the 'Twister' was awesome, oh, and then when Jimmy-' \nI stopped thinking about it suddenly, my spoon scraped against the empty bottom of my bowl. I was done, a scattered handful of Lucky Charms laying dry on the tabletop. \nI hadn't spilled yesterday. \nI Pushed up out of my seat, and figured that It would be time to get ready for work by now. I took a few lazy, unmotivated steps back towards my room before stopping dead. \nThere was a note pinned on the fridge, hanging precariously off of the edge of a magnet. It fluttered slightly in the breeze let in by an open window, and I watched it tumble to the ground. I needed only a cursory glance at the writing scrawled hastily across it to see that it was Maria's writing. I needed more than that to absorb what was actually being spoken.\nMaria didn't leave me yesterday.\nMy hands shaky, barely able to grip the note, I listened for the soft thuds of tiny footsteps, of Dani and Ellis waiting for me to make them breakfast.\n\"Daddy, Daddy! Pancakes!\" Thier little voices rang around the kitchen, echoing too loud. I didn't care. I was thier Daddy, it was my job not to care. \nWait. That was yesterday. Now, there was only silence. \nI still had my children yesterday.\nMy life was together yesterday.\nYesterday was the best day of my life.\nBut it was yesterday for a reason.", "A moment: 6:42 P.M., on the 18th, it was a Thursday. The weather, when mentioned, was recanted as miserable and dry…understandably so for a July in the south. I lay calm and collected blanketed in warmth other than the heat of the day. There was a glow of sunlight beginning to dusk on the west wall of my room. Nearly motionless in my content, I never realized there was not a day before this that I could have expected the world and received it. I never realized there was a moment when everyone you ever knew came to a stop to congratulate your accomplishment. I would never realize the single biggest accomplishment of my life was the precursor to all my failures, my losses, my regrets. For that afternoon was the best day of my life.\n\nThe following day came much too early for myself and those around me. Ushered in prematurely, the morning was brought to a halt by my realization I was lost. The countless joys of the previous day were eclipsed by the moonlight and the darkness of the remaining night. Rightfully so, the early hours rarely usher in hopes and dreams and are instead reserved for commitment, responsibility, and tragedy. I learned in only a matter of minutes those feelings I had the day before were but only for a day. The idea of love and acceptance from so many had departed as they had previously the day before. The gift which was given to me was unfathomable…that which was taken away is the rest of my life.\n\nFor a brief moment I am able to reconcile with small victories that I may attain in my never certain future. I may laugh, love, and live as if I was none the wiser. There are moments that I may perceive as better than yesterday—but, in reality, they can never live up to my previous success. Butchered by reality, I have passed into existence and as such my life will be shorter and filled with desires to return after every passing day.\n\n6:42 P.M., on the 18th, a Thursday, it was the day of my birth.\n" ]

[ 1, 2 ]

[ "1406404829", "1406405219" ]

[ "\"I don't know what's wrong with me.\" Tony took a swig of his beer, as the rest of them looked on in sympathy and disgust. A puddle of alcohol was forming underneath his chair. \"I mean, I just look at her all day and night and can't do anything about it. I just want to touch her. To let her know I'm here... To tell her it'll be alri-\" he began to sob. A big heaving mess, that left mucus on his white, two-sizes too big, tank top. The others around him tried to console him; patting him on the shoulder and rubbing his back. Of course, he couldn't feel a thing. \n\n\"Right, well thank for that Tony.\" Claire pushed up her tortoise horn rimmed-glasses and licked her cracked lips out of habits. She looked down her clipboard and made a note next to Tony. \"Right, David, how have you been?\" \n\n\"Good. Yeah. Real good. I've moved back into my apartment and started cleaning up the place. It's been hard and slow, but I feel like I'm making progress.\"\n\n\"Riiight. David, you understand you don't need that apartment anymore.\"\n\n\"Yeah I know, but it's weird wandering about town. I feel so lost. I like having a home. Keeps me grounded, you know?\" Several other members of the group nodded their heads in agreement. \n\n\"Of course I understand.\" She didn't. Claire knew she had died the instant that train hit her. \"So, how are you going with tying up your loose ends? You been here now for 3 months.\"\n\n\"Yeah I know. I, uh, don't really know what else I need to do. Repaid all my debts, helped out a homeless guy, upvoted some things on Reddit, topped up some parking meters...\"\n\n\"Have you said goodbye?\"\n\nThere was a pause. \"No.\" he whispered and tears started to well in David's ice blue eyes. \n\n\"Johnny! How are you going my dear?\"\n\n\"Good thank you ma'am. Yourself?\"\n\n\"That's good. Good. So, have you made any progress with Caitlin?\"\n\n\"A little. Said goodbye to her family. Told them I was sorry for fooling around with their little girl. Told them that I was dead, so I could no longer hurt them.\"\n\n\"Excellent Johnny. That's excellent progress. And Caitlin?\"\n\n\"Well ma'am. I was kinda busy the rest of the week...\"\nClaire sighed. \"Perhaps next week Johnny.\"\n\nClaire made another note on her clipboard and looked around the circle; it was so big, she almost forgot that it was a circle. Some sat alone and cried, others chatted with one another and some vanished. She would smile when their name disappeared off the list. But then other names would appear. \n\n\"So Carol, how are you?\"", "\"Max? Max! Are you alright?\" \nI zoned out again. God dammit.... I shouldn't say that in these parts. Fuck. I need to say something. I can't. I'm dead. What am I supposed to do? Fuck. He's calling my name again. um. Let's see.... \n\"I'm just feeling overwhelmed. I can't do this anymore.\" phew that works. \n\"Max, you have been dead for 5 years now. You have to move on. Accept your fate. One who does not accept his fate will be conflicted forever....\" \nWhen does this man ever shut up? I can't take it anymore. I had a wife. I had two children. I was so close to that promotion and then BAM! That stupid drunk hit me. It's all his fault. It's not supposed to be like this. I deserve better. No, I am BETTER than this. This old fool takes me for the melancholic type. I'm not like that. I'm livid. Dying before my time is not sad. It's horrible. It makes me angry. And now the \"Deceased Management\" thinks they can MAKE ME go here? Well, fuck them! \n\"Max! Max!\" My left shoulder was prodded by a deceased Vietnamese man. He was also unable to cope with death. \nOh fuck! I need to say something. I can't think of anything again. I hope a new recruit comes in. I really hope someone comes....\n\"Well, seeing as Max is having one of his moments let's continue without him... Oh, hello! Who may you be, my dear?\" \n\"Ca--ca -ca\" \n\"Speak, my love. We're all friends here.\" \n\"Ca-Cassandra\" \n\"Nice to meet you. My name is Hans Schmit, leader of \"Deceased-Denial Anonymous. Have a seat.\" \nThank God someone new! \n\"Hi, I'm Cassandra. And I have a problem. Am I really dead?\" \nThe whole group chimed in with an encouraging \"Hi Cassandra.\" \nWait, I recognize this woman. Oh my God. No. It can't be. She isn't MY Cassandra? No way. Oh fuck she has the scar on her face too. I can't do this anymore...\n\"Max! Where are you going?\" \n\"To Hell with you!\" \nThe director gasped. And Max disappeared with a flash of light. \n", "Reaper Sam gave a nervous glance at the clock as he walked into the room before hurriedly placing his scythe in the umbrella stand at the door. \n\n\"Sorry I'm late, guys. Traffic was horrible!” Sam said, putting a sing-song accent on the last word. “Some protest was happening on the street right outside my apartment and closed the road. Inter-entity marriage or something like that.\" \n \nI closed the deddit app on my phone and looked up towards Sam, \"I'm really hope Heaven passes the bill. I mean, why should the government control what people do in their own graves?\"\n\n\"You’re absolutely right, Dom.” Sam replied. \"It's their own death, and as long as it's not hurting anyone else, I don't see why they can't.\"\n\nSam performed a quick headcount of everyone already in the room. Seven waiting patiently (including me) in the circle, eleven getting some biscuits by the refreshments table and one who went for a leak a few minutes ago. \n\n\"Where's Logan and Charlie?\" he asked, loosening his hood and revealing his large, green eyes, silver hair and a chiselled complexion. I wonder if he's single... I wouldn't mind being buried with him, if you know what I mean.\n\nA youngster two seats to my left piped up. \"Charlie went to the toilet, and Logan's not here yet,\" Michelle said, nonchalantly swinging her legs under her chair.\n\nJacky sat down on one of the chairs in the circle, her mouth full of one of those shitty budget-brand biscuits that Purgatory Support and Counselling always got. I try to eat before going to the PSC tutorials because the food here's so mediocre. I mostly just come for the coffee and Sam.\n\nSam sat down in the chair opposite me and beckoned for the others standing at the food table to grab a seat. \"If there aren't enough chairs just help yourself to one in one of the stacks by the wall.\"\n\n\"Hey, can we start without Logan?\" Mike asked, perfectly slouched and arms folded (well, *arm* - he lost it thanks to my careless driving during life). \"We waited 15 minutes the last two tutorials and he didn't show up to either of them. And let's be honest, he's probably not gonna come again.\"\n\n\"Fair point,\" the cute Reaper nodded. \"Before we start the tutorial, who wants to start off on our weekly update?\"\n\nMichelle stuck her hand up enthusiastically. \"Me! Pick me!\" she said. \"I've got a good one!\"\n\n“Go right ahead, honey!” He replied in his soft voice.\n\nMichelle dropped her hand and started talking, her eyes animated. \"Okay. So you guys know how I was in the car accident with my dad? I was pretty sad, because I died and he didn't. And you guys know how he was in the hospital and everything and died for a bit and visited me here? Yeah, well, he died in another surgery so that means he’s good and so he's coming here to stay! I know I shouldn't be happy because now he's gonna miss Jade, but to be honest,” Michelle brought her voice down to a whisper, “I never really liked Jade.”\n\nThe 10-year-old finished up her fast-paced speech with a couple of faux-exasperated deep breaths, which had a few of us laughing. \n\n“That sounds great!” Sam exclaimed. “Do you know when you get to see him?”\n\n“Hopefully today, I think. I’m so excited!” Michelle started bouncing in her chair. “Dom, do you wanna go next?” I think she picked me because we were both in car accidents - Mike, herself and I have this special bond.\n\n“Sure, Shell. Thanks.” I sat up and cleared my throat a bit before beginning. “I’m just apologising in advance because my update is definitely not going to beat that. So I finally got a job down at the mall a few blocks down, the job really suits me, too.”\n\n\n\nMike groaned, “Do *not* say that was a pun. Please don’t tell me you got the job at that men’s clothing store.”\n\nI smiled, “I won’t tell you then. I’ll just heavily imply it.”\n\nMike buried his face in his hands, “Dom, there are times like this where I wish you stayed down there.” I could tell he was trying to hide a growing smile though. He loves my stupid humour. \n\n“You only have yourself and your horrid driving to blame,” I laughed. “You wanna go next?”\n\nAnd the updates went on. Mike had a date, Sam might be getting promoted to Grim Reaper, Charlie scored her first acting role on a daytime soap, Jacky and her husband are moving to south to Hell once they both finish counselling, and so on. I zoned out after the sixth or seventh person started talking; my attention span’s not that long.\n\nAhh well, only four more compulsory tutorials and I can get on with my afterlife.\n\n\n\n\n", "\"Look, I can't be the only one and like.. I know what's going on with me but I just can't shake the urge to poop.\" Bill explained to the circle around him, many indicating their agreement with a simple nod or quiet murmur. \n\n\"Uh, yes Bill, adjusting can be hard and I'm sure that you'll shake that feeling in no time.\" Denise, the host of the support group assured him, \"Who's next? Madison?\" \n\n\"It fuckin' sucks.\" The teenager began, spitting her long azure hair out of her face before continuing, \"My boyfriend Tommy is a wreck and I'm not gonna lie, I'm hoping he off's himself like the bloomin' coward he is. Maybe then we can be together again and things'll be normal like before, yeah?\"\n\n\"Now Madison,\" Denise sighed, \"The last thing we need is another addition to the group, you should be hoping that he'll be able to move on and not make the same mistake you did.\" She explained as she eyed each and every face in the circle, their numbers had swollen to 30 ever since the introduction of a deadly new party drug. \n\n\"Geez Miss, you sound just like me Mum.\" Madison said groaning at the thought. \n\n\"Well your Mother was a smart woman, but you have bigger issues, all of you do.\" Denise sighed, \"If you want to cross over you're going to need to.. Tie up loose ends..\" \n\n\"You mean like haunting Tommy until he off's himself?\" Madison interjected.\n\n\"No! No!\" Denise screamed frantically as the murmurs produced by Madison's outburst died down, \"Look, it's different for everybody. Some people visit locations, some visit their families or loved ones and some.. Some don't know what to do and can never cross over..\" Denise sighed.\n\n\"Like you Miss?\" Madison asked.\n\n\"I stay here for other reasons, Madison.\" Denise said as she made eye contact with a middle aged man across from her in the circle, they exchanged a solemn nod. \n\n* * *\n\nLater that day Denise found herself strolling through the graveyard up the road from the community center where the \"DA\" Meetings were hosted, she eventually came to a small gravestone and knelt down. Denise inspected the bouquet of roses that she cradled in her hand searching for any imperfections before laying them before the grave. \n\n\"You know you don't have to do this all the time, Denise.\" A mans voice came from behind her, she didn't turn.\n\n\"I know, it's just.. I miss you.\" Denise said as a single tear made its way down her cheek, she gently caressed the stone work which read. \n\n \"Greg Scott\"\n\"Taken too soon from beloved wife Denise Scott.\"\n 1982 - 2014\n\n(Long time lurker, first time poster. Sorry for the terribly cliched story!)", "\nA pleasingly plump woman with a practical haircut tittered over to the stage. While at first the crowd assumed she was nervous, as they all were that dreaded first time, Betty Mason seemed more steadfast than she had any right to be.\n\n‘Hello, my name is Betty and I’m… Well, I don’t see how you people are right, because I’m still here talking, so obviously I’m not dead.’\n\n‘Betty…’ urged a strong voice, betraying a hint of irritation. \n\nShe rolled her eyes. ‘Oh all right. I’m Betty and I’m dead.’ \n\nThe voices rose in a chorus to chant the familiar words ‘Hello Betty,’ but before they could get through the second syllable, they found themselves interrupted. \n\n‘But you all know that we’re not really dead, don’t you. After all, we’re all here. I think the more plausible explanation is that we somehow made it to an alternate reality or universe or something.’\n\n‘Betty for Christ’s sake.’ The voice rang out again, this time noticeably flustered.\n\n‘No. I’m serious.’ she planted both hands on her plump hips in indignation. ‘If we are really dead then we have to assume that death is not what we ever thought it was, and then, what’s the difference, really?’\n\nThe crowd snorted and shouted in derision, like an audience at a Rocky Horror showing. It didn’t bother Betty. She finally had a platform, a soap box of her own.\n\n‘This is certainly not heaven nor hell,’ she continued. ‘Or is heaven supposed to be a dreary room in a dreary town?’ \n\n‘Hell is listening to you, granny!’ \n\nThe crowd laughed. Betty, however, remained calm and slowly turned around to face the heckler.\n\n‘Hellooo?’ She sang. ‘Who is it, please?’\n\n‘It’s the living dead!’\n\nThis caused an uproar in the crowd. Yet Betty was not thrown: in fact, she seemed more determined than ever, folding her arms in a precise, calculated movement. ‘Well, my dear sir, why don’t you come over here so we can talk face to face like the zombies we are?’\n\nThe crowd- an unruly lot, though that can be expected of those that have recently discovered that they’re dead- oohed and aahed as the perpetrator made his way forward.\n\nHe was a skinny little chap, barely sixteen, wisps of hair gracing his chin and cheeks. They were intended to make him seem masculine, Betty supposed, but all it did was draw attention to his rampant acne. Sluggishly he came to a stop in front of the podium.\n\n‘Hurry up now dear.’ She tapped her foot.\n\n‘Now,’ she waggled a finger at him. ‘You are saying that we are dead.’ \nThe boy nodded.\n‘So dead, in fact, that I am an insane person for believing otherwise.’ \nThe boy nodded, slightly more apprehensively this time. Perhaps he sensed that Betty was more than a little unhinged.\n\nBetty looked at him for a second, then gave a smile so disarming she might well have been a Disney princess. ‘Well, in that case my darling,’ she smiled at him, ‘This won’t matter much, will it.’\n\nWithin a split second she had drawn a gun and shot the scraggly boy in the face. He fell down with a crunch and lay there, a puddle of blood making its way over the podium.\n\n‘Well.’ Betty stated, her smile still strong, ‘I guess that solves that.’\n", "Dead? Afraid? Still clutching on to the life you made?\n\nYou're not alone.\n\nReach out and talk to somebody, figuratively.\n\nFREE CHURCH COFFEE!\n\nWeekly support meetings. Connect with your fellow undead and accept that your life is over.\n\nWE CAN HELP YOU!\n\n12 proven steps guaranteed. You'll never live again.\n\n" ]

[ 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 6 ]

[ "1406458486", "1406461473", "1406458790", "1406460010", "1406458987", "1406469057" ]