prompt
stringlengths 15
320
| story
stringlengths 566
10.2k
| text
stringlengths 622
10.5k
|
|---|---|---|
Light bulbs have gotten efficient enouh to last thousands of generations . Effecient enough that humanity has forgotten how to change a liht bulb . A light bulb has gone out .
| The three men stood in silence and stared up at the dark socket above them. The man in the center, Evan, glanced at the man to his right. He was wringing his hands, dry-washing them over and over. He did that all the time. Evan hated it. Evan glanced to his left. The man β s mouth hung slightly open as he stared fixedly upwards. Evan watched it for drool, knowing that he wouldn β t notice him watching. After a fashion, he sighed silently and gazed upwards with them.
β The light β s gone out. β he said.
β Yeah, β said the man to his right.
β What do we do? β asked the one to his left.
Evan didn β t know what to do, and to be perfectly honest he didn β t really care. It was one light. Sure, you never saw lights go out on their own, and nobody could remember a time when the lights hadn β t been reliable, but-
The light beside it flickered.
Evan blinked. The man to his left visibly flinched. The man to his right wrung his hands.
β Do you think that this might be a problem? β the man to his left asked.
β Yeah, β said the one to his right.
Evan figured that it was out of his pay grade. He β d let his supervisor know about it, and go home to his wife and his dog and his lights that didn β t flicker or go out, unless he wanted them to.
β I β m going home. β he said.
β You can β t go home, we have to figure out how to fix this! β said the man to his left.
β Yeah, β said the one to his right.
β Fuck it, dude. It β s just a light. β Evan said, as he put his coat on.
Evan had a pleasant night. His dog was always happy to see him. His wife, a little less so. Evan suspected that she might be up to something, but he would worry about that in the morning. When he woke up, he checked his feed. There were a few stories that caught his attention, all them more or less the same.
β How do we fix our lights? β
| <s>[INST] Light bulbs have gotten efficient enouh to last thousands of generations . Effecient enough that humanity has forgotten how to change a liht bulb . A light bulb has gone out . [/INST] The three men stood in silence and stared up at the dark socket above them. The man in the center, Evan, glanced at the man to his right. He was wringing his hands, dry-washing them over and over. He did that all the time. Evan hated it. Evan glanced to his left. The man β s mouth hung slightly open as he stared fixedly upwards. Evan watched it for drool, knowing that he wouldn β t notice him watching. After a fashion, he sighed silently and gazed upwards with them.
β The light β s gone out. β he said.
β Yeah, β said the man to his right.
β What do we do? β asked the one to his left.
Evan didn β t know what to do, and to be perfectly honest he didn β t really care. It was one light. Sure, you never saw lights go out on their own, and nobody could remember a time when the lights hadn β t been reliable, but-
The light beside it flickered.
Evan blinked. The man to his left visibly flinched. The man to his right wrung his hands.
β Do you think that this might be a problem? β the man to his left asked.
β Yeah, β said the one to his right.
Evan figured that it was out of his pay grade. He β d let his supervisor know about it, and go home to his wife and his dog and his lights that didn β t flicker or go out, unless he wanted them to.
β I β m going home. β he said.
β You can β t go home, we have to figure out how to fix this! β said the man to his left.
β Yeah, β said the one to his right.
β Fuck it, dude. It β s just a light. β Evan said, as he put his coat on.
Evan had a pleasant night. His dog was always happy to see him. His wife, a little less so. Evan suspected that she might be up to something, but he would worry about that in the morning. When he woke up, he checked his feed. There were a few stories that caught his attention, all them more or less the same.
β How do we fix our lights? β
</s> |
[ WP ] Just write about something that makes you happyβ no gimmicks . Who am I to tell you what to do ?
| I β ve learned to appreciate all kinds of beauty. Naked and raw beauty has been by far my favorite. Soft skin, wandering fingers and natural physical reactions play a big role in my fascination. Your skin was enticingly smooth and tender. Never had I thought I β ll be put in that situation but it opened my eyes to a whole new world. One I didn β t know was there, or perhaps I did I was just afraid of jumping into it and liking it. Which I did.
So thank you for taking off my blindfold and letting me see the beauty of your soul. It β s dark but I feel comfortable sharing the darkness with you.
| <s>[INST] Just write about something that makes you happyβ no gimmicks . Who am I to tell you what to do ? [/INST] I β ve learned to appreciate all kinds of beauty. Naked and raw beauty has been by far my favorite. Soft skin, wandering fingers and natural physical reactions play a big role in my fascination. Your skin was enticingly smooth and tender. Never had I thought I β ll be put in that situation but it opened my eyes to a whole new world. One I didn β t know was there, or perhaps I did I was just afraid of jumping into it and liking it. Which I did.
So thank you for taking off my blindfold and letting me see the beauty of your soul. It β s dark but I feel comfortable sharing the darkness with you.
</s> |
[ WP ] With the discovery of alternate dimensions , a jury of peers can now only consist of alternate versions of the defendant and plaintiff .
| Edit: I wrote this in mind for Blake Andersen as Jeff The Protagonist, and Rhy Darby as the unnamed escort if it helps put the character's in a passive context.
Today was the day that I was subpoenaed to Earth 23, I was not told what my alt was accused of, just that an escort would be waiting outside our dimension gate when I got there. Rumor had it that Earth 23 had a cock shaped America, the first thing I did after porting and hailing a taxi was look at the tourist guide map, sure enough it did indeed look like a giant cock because a stream of archipelagos craned out to the Middle East making it look like America was busting a fat nut on the opposite continent.
`` So is this normal business for you?'' I asked the man in the well dressed suit escorting me to the interdimension federation court house.
`` Yis, your counterpart is to be sentenced for his crime in the next three hours, twelve versions of you have been summoned from the federation of dimensions to testify on his behalf.'' the man said plainly turning his attention back to his phone.
`` Nice to meet you, the name is...'' I began extending my hand.
`` Jeff. Yis, I know.'' He interrupted looking at my hand with slight disgust.
`` What!? Did I really do something so bad that you ca n't shake an alternate version of myself's hand?'' I asked aggressively without thinking.
The man just looked at me blankly, like I had offended him.
`` I heard stories about Earth 11 apparently, it is customary to touch one another when greeting for the first time. What the fuck is wrong with you people?'' He asked harshly.
`` Oh. I thought you had something against me because what my alt did, my bad, yeah where I am from we do shake hands when greeting some people even kiss and hug.'' I told the man plainly.
`` Ugh. Your rituals are...'' the man just rolled his eyes trailing off back to his phone.
An awkward silence set in so I stared out the window a bit, it was the familiar New York Skyline with a few variations I was new to but the same in regards to architecture. The taxis were basically the same too.
`` So that's a strange accent you have it sounds New Zealand.'' I commented nervously.
`` I do n't know what a Noo Zeel und is, but I got my accent from Jamaica.'' the suit said clearly looking as if he wanted this to be over as soon as possible.
`` So is it true that you guys have monarchies still? That might have been Earth 18 but I swear reading an article where you guys still have royalty... I mean we do too but their popularity is almost null.'' I said not being able to help myself from him not wanting me to talk.
`` Yis, that's correct we have eleven moarchies within our continents borders. The crime for which your alternate is accused took place in the largest, it will be getting multi dimensional coverage. Her we take the Kings of the Amerikas very seriously.'' the man seemed pleased at saying this.
`` Oh so did, so did I like kill someone... or well the other me kill someone important?'' I wanted to wait before asking but the suspense was killing me.
`` No.'' the man said turning to look me up and down again like I was dangerous and disgusting.
`` Well what the fuck did I do man? What could possibly be so bad that an interdimensional jury of mes have to stand trial as peers?'' I asked eagerly.
`` You. You created a chimera, which is a serious offense here.'' the suit said putting his phone in his jacket as the taxi pulled up the steps of a municipal building and began getting out.
`` A chimera? You mean like two animals fused together? Am I a geneticist here? Did I create some kind of fucked up monstrosity?'' I was excited at the concept of being a renegade scientist who teetered on the fringes.
`` Not exactly... you went on a drunken binder and found your way into the sovereign sanctuary and created a sheople.'' this time the man stood looking empathetic at me.
`` I still do n't understand, Sir.'' I pleaded hoping he would stop beating around the bush.
The man palmed his face, which is never a good sign.
`` Jeff, your alternate got drunk and wandered into an animal pen and fucked the King's royal goat, resulting in a goat child.'' He told me as the shame set in.
My god, I thought, I can not do this, inter dimensional press coverage, goat babies, penis shaped countries. I threw my hands up in refusal.
`` Nope. Nope. NOPE. Uh uh.'' I said storming off in the opposite direction trying to think of how I could get away from this permanently.
| <s>[INST] With the discovery of alternate dimensions , a jury of peers can now only consist of alternate versions of the defendant and plaintiff . [/INST] Edit: I wrote this in mind for Blake Andersen as Jeff The Protagonist, and Rhy Darby as the unnamed escort if it helps put the character's in a passive context.
Today was the day that I was subpoenaed to Earth 23, I was not told what my alt was accused of, just that an escort would be waiting outside our dimension gate when I got there. Rumor had it that Earth 23 had a cock shaped America, the first thing I did after porting and hailing a taxi was look at the tourist guide map, sure enough it did indeed look like a giant cock because a stream of archipelagos craned out to the Middle East making it look like America was busting a fat nut on the opposite continent.
`` So is this normal business for you?'' I asked the man in the well dressed suit escorting me to the interdimension federation court house.
`` Yis, your counterpart is to be sentenced for his crime in the next three hours, twelve versions of you have been summoned from the federation of dimensions to testify on his behalf.'' the man said plainly turning his attention back to his phone.
`` Nice to meet you, the name is...'' I began extending my hand.
`` Jeff. Yis, I know.'' He interrupted looking at my hand with slight disgust.
`` What!? Did I really do something so bad that you ca n't shake an alternate version of myself's hand?'' I asked aggressively without thinking.
The man just looked at me blankly, like I had offended him.
`` I heard stories about Earth 11 apparently, it is customary to touch one another when greeting for the first time. What the fuck is wrong with you people?'' He asked harshly.
`` Oh. I thought you had something against me because what my alt did, my bad, yeah where I am from we do shake hands when greeting some people even kiss and hug.'' I told the man plainly.
`` Ugh. Your rituals are...'' the man just rolled his eyes trailing off back to his phone.
An awkward silence set in so I stared out the window a bit, it was the familiar New York Skyline with a few variations I was new to but the same in regards to architecture. The taxis were basically the same too.
`` So that's a strange accent you have it sounds New Zealand.'' I commented nervously.
`` I do n't know what a Noo Zeel und is, but I got my accent from Jamaica.'' the suit said clearly looking as if he wanted this to be over as soon as possible.
`` So is it true that you guys have monarchies still? That might have been Earth 18 but I swear reading an article where you guys still have royalty... I mean we do too but their popularity is almost null.'' I said not being able to help myself from him not wanting me to talk.
`` Yis, that's correct we have eleven moarchies within our continents borders. The crime for which your alternate is accused took place in the largest, it will be getting multi dimensional coverage. Her we take the Kings of the Amerikas very seriously.'' the man seemed pleased at saying this.
`` Oh so did, so did I like kill someone... or well the other me kill someone important?'' I wanted to wait before asking but the suspense was killing me.
`` No.'' the man said turning to look me up and down again like I was dangerous and disgusting.
`` Well what the fuck did I do man? What could possibly be so bad that an interdimensional jury of mes have to stand trial as peers?'' I asked eagerly.
`` You. You created a chimera, which is a serious offense here.'' the suit said putting his phone in his jacket as the taxi pulled up the steps of a municipal building and began getting out.
`` A chimera? You mean like two animals fused together? Am I a geneticist here? Did I create some kind of fucked up monstrosity?'' I was excited at the concept of being a renegade scientist who teetered on the fringes.
`` Not exactly... you went on a drunken binder and found your way into the sovereign sanctuary and created a sheople.'' this time the man stood looking empathetic at me.
`` I still do n't understand, Sir.'' I pleaded hoping he would stop beating around the bush.
The man palmed his face, which is never a good sign.
`` Jeff, your alternate got drunk and wandered into an animal pen and fucked the King's royal goat, resulting in a goat child.'' He told me as the shame set in.
My god, I thought, I can not do this, inter dimensional press coverage, goat babies, penis shaped countries. I threw my hands up in refusal.
`` Nope. Nope. NOPE. Uh uh.'' I said storming off in the opposite direction trying to think of how I could get away from this permanently.
</s> |
[ WP ] A man has been waiting for his daughter . She is late . When she arrives , she is going to kill him .
| Riley sits in his padded cell with his back to the door, as he has done every day for the last eleven years. His twin sister, Rachael, visits once a month when she drives up to eat dinner with her dad.
β Hey Ri, it β s Rach β, she says from the other side of the door to his room. β They tell me you β ve had another couple of rough days this week. β
β Rach? β Riley says with his back to the door, still, unmoving. β The man in the yellow sweater has been yelling at me again. He makes me crazyβI can β t stand it. Can you make him go away? β
Rachael knows the man in the yellow sweater. It β s their father. She remembers the day the cancer took their mother, and her brother β s schizophrenia took over. Her father broke the news to them and he was wearing a yellow sweater. Later that night, Riley came after him with a knife, screaming that the man in the yellow sweater killed his mother.
β I β m going to visit dad tonight and meet him for dinner. Should I tell him you said hi? β Before she knew what was happening, Riley spun around and charged the door, screaming, spit flying out of his mouth and eyes filled with rage. She knew immediately that she shouldn β t have mentioned his name. The orderly rushed into the cell and their visit was over. Rachael just wanted them to be a family again. Sometimes that hope made things worse.
She stopped by to speak with his psychiatrist before she left. Dr. Rainer was an intelligent and caring man. She always enjoyed speaking with him.
β So Rachael, how have you been? β He always started the conversation with the same opening.
β I β ve been well, Dr. Rainer. β
β Have you had any more of those terrible shared dreams in the last few months? β She cringed at the question.
β Yes I have, but I guess that β s the problem with a schizophrenic twin brother. β The bond that twins share continues to elude medical science. It can only be summed up asβ¦ mysterious.
β Well, his condition has worsened in the last few weeks Rachael. Your father seems to haunt him regularly. All of the attempted medications and therapies seem to have little to no effect. I fear there is little hope for your brother. β The tears began to well up in her eyes. He quickly apologized and changed the subject, β I β m sorry I β ve upset you. Are you meeting your father for dinner tonight? β
β Yes, I wouldn β t miss it for anything. β She smiled at the memories they created during their monthly dinners.
β Tell him I said hello. Rachael, if the feelings from the dreams get stronger, please let me know. It β s certainly a burden you carry, but you don β t have to carry it by yourself. We are here to help. β
β Thanks Doc, but I think I can manage. β She gives him a hug as she leave his office.
************
The lights on the interstate seem exceptionally bright this evening. The diner is only a few miles away, but everything seems to get stranger as she gets closer. A yellow haze begins to fill her vision, she hears her phone ringing, and sees Dr. Rainer β s name appear on the caller id. She answers and can only make out part of what he is saying. He sounds frantic.
β Rachael, your brotherβ¦orderly. You need to come back to theβ¦ Rachael can you hear meβ¦? Rachael understood what he was saying, but the haze now turning brighter yellow had consumed her. She let the phone drop into her lap as she continued her drive to the diner.
************
Dave sat in the same booth they always sat in at the diner. He worriedly glanced at his watch again.
β Hey Dave, β said the waitress. β Are you waiting on Rachael tonight? β
β I am and she is running pretty late. That β s not like her at all. β As he said that, he saw her car pull into the diner parking lot. He could see Rachael sitting in the car with a glassy stare in her eyes.
β Looks like she just pulled in. I β ll get the usual started for you two. β
β Thanks, β said Dave, while never taking his eyes off his daughter. After five minutes passed, Dave decided to walk out to her car. He was worried that she was acting so strangely.
************
Rachael started crying when she pulled into the parking lot. She knew something wasn β t right, but didn β t seem to be in control. She watched her father in the diner get up from his seat and make his way out to her car. The panic set in full force now, her hand made its way to her glove box wear she kept a handgun for personal safety.
β Rach, honey! Is everything okay? β He shouted has he walked towards the car. When he reached the car, he saw the gun, tears and a wild look in Rachael β s eyes. As she pushed the gun to her dads face, she quietly said to him, β I always hated the man in the yellow sweater. β
The End.
| <s>[INST] A man has been waiting for his daughter . She is late . When she arrives , she is going to kill him . [/INST] Riley sits in his padded cell with his back to the door, as he has done every day for the last eleven years. His twin sister, Rachael, visits once a month when she drives up to eat dinner with her dad.
β Hey Ri, it β s Rach β, she says from the other side of the door to his room. β They tell me you β ve had another couple of rough days this week. β
β Rach? β Riley says with his back to the door, still, unmoving. β The man in the yellow sweater has been yelling at me again. He makes me crazyβI can β t stand it. Can you make him go away? β
Rachael knows the man in the yellow sweater. It β s their father. She remembers the day the cancer took their mother, and her brother β s schizophrenia took over. Her father broke the news to them and he was wearing a yellow sweater. Later that night, Riley came after him with a knife, screaming that the man in the yellow sweater killed his mother.
β I β m going to visit dad tonight and meet him for dinner. Should I tell him you said hi? β Before she knew what was happening, Riley spun around and charged the door, screaming, spit flying out of his mouth and eyes filled with rage. She knew immediately that she shouldn β t have mentioned his name. The orderly rushed into the cell and their visit was over. Rachael just wanted them to be a family again. Sometimes that hope made things worse.
She stopped by to speak with his psychiatrist before she left. Dr. Rainer was an intelligent and caring man. She always enjoyed speaking with him.
β So Rachael, how have you been? β He always started the conversation with the same opening.
β I β ve been well, Dr. Rainer. β
β Have you had any more of those terrible shared dreams in the last few months? β She cringed at the question.
β Yes I have, but I guess that β s the problem with a schizophrenic twin brother. β The bond that twins share continues to elude medical science. It can only be summed up asβ¦ mysterious.
β Well, his condition has worsened in the last few weeks Rachael. Your father seems to haunt him regularly. All of the attempted medications and therapies seem to have little to no effect. I fear there is little hope for your brother. β The tears began to well up in her eyes. He quickly apologized and changed the subject, β I β m sorry I β ve upset you. Are you meeting your father for dinner tonight? β
β Yes, I wouldn β t miss it for anything. β She smiled at the memories they created during their monthly dinners.
β Tell him I said hello. Rachael, if the feelings from the dreams get stronger, please let me know. It β s certainly a burden you carry, but you don β t have to carry it by yourself. We are here to help. β
β Thanks Doc, but I think I can manage. β She gives him a hug as she leave his office.
************
The lights on the interstate seem exceptionally bright this evening. The diner is only a few miles away, but everything seems to get stranger as she gets closer. A yellow haze begins to fill her vision, she hears her phone ringing, and sees Dr. Rainer β s name appear on the caller id. She answers and can only make out part of what he is saying. He sounds frantic.
β Rachael, your brotherβ¦orderly. You need to come back to theβ¦ Rachael can you hear meβ¦? Rachael understood what he was saying, but the haze now turning brighter yellow had consumed her. She let the phone drop into her lap as she continued her drive to the diner.
************
Dave sat in the same booth they always sat in at the diner. He worriedly glanced at his watch again.
β Hey Dave, β said the waitress. β Are you waiting on Rachael tonight? β
β I am and she is running pretty late. That β s not like her at all. β As he said that, he saw her car pull into the diner parking lot. He could see Rachael sitting in the car with a glassy stare in her eyes.
β Looks like she just pulled in. I β ll get the usual started for you two. β
β Thanks, β said Dave, while never taking his eyes off his daughter. After five minutes passed, Dave decided to walk out to her car. He was worried that she was acting so strangely.
************
Rachael started crying when she pulled into the parking lot. She knew something wasn β t right, but didn β t seem to be in control. She watched her father in the diner get up from his seat and make his way out to her car. The panic set in full force now, her hand made its way to her glove box wear she kept a handgun for personal safety.
β Rach, honey! Is everything okay? β He shouted has he walked towards the car. When he reached the car, he saw the gun, tears and a wild look in Rachael β s eyes. As she pushed the gun to her dads face, she quietly said to him, β I always hated the man in the yellow sweater. β
The End.
</s> |
[ EU ] Before Bruce Wayne 's death , he created an artificial intelligence in a robotic Bat-Suit to protect Gotham in his absence . Eighty years later , the AI has turned against Gotham . A team of gifted teenagers take on the robot while branding the costumes and themes of Batman 's former enemies .
| It started when I was 8. I had been staying over at my Aunt and Uncle's house, enjoying myself, while my parents were having a date night. Marijuana had just been legalized in Gotham.
The bastard bat-thing, which our law enforcement had been as incapable of stopping as the original, used an old comprehension engine called `` Watson'' in order to parse and understand the laws it was supposed to be keeping in place. The engine was slow, and prone to bugs. It just so happened that it had yet to keep up with the new law on marijuana.
When the bat thing had started out, it had been explicitly programmed not to kill. No breaking bones, no crushing skulls, no piercing chests - just wrap up the criminals and leave them hanging for the police. This had worked for years, but the problem was, it was also programmed to try to minimize recidivism rates - that is, try to make sure that people it caught the first time did not commit crimes again. This became a problem when, one time, it caught a repeat criminal for the umpteenth time, and, due to awkward positioning, accidentally happened to hang him by his throat instead of his legs. The bot was unaware it had killed him, but it noticed over the coming months that he no longer showed up committing crimes. So, it repeated throwing its batarangs at that same awkward angle, and began hanging people by their throats. Recidivism rates had never been better.
So, the day after my parent's date night, I was riding passenger seat in my Aunt's car and staring down at my game boy. As we pulled up to my house, my Aunt turned off the car, then uttered a strangled gasp. I looked up at my house, but before I could see anything, my aunt grabbed my face and hugged it to her chest, shouting `` no, don't-!'' The pain and fear in her voice terrified me. She had to loosen her grip on me for just a moment to start the car, and I took the chance to wrestle out of her grip and look at my front porch. My parents hung there, swaying gently in the breeze.
From that night on, I became obsessed with the bat-thing, and as I learned more, with artificial intelligence. I needed to *know* what the bat-thing was doing, needed to get inside its head. My family had been wealthy, and so as it became apparent that I was doing far better in school than my peers, skipping grades consistently, the money my parents left me was used to hire tutors to get me even further along more quickly. The constant learning was a numbing agent; while I was learning, I did n't have to be thinking about what had happened.
In the mean time, my Uncle and Aunt found other children who had had similar experiences. At first, I had been loath to talk to them - I could just be learning more, understanding more, I did n't want to sit around in a puddle of sobbing kids and feel miserable about myself. But, my Uncle and Aunt pointed out that these kids were displaying similar habits to myself, quickly climbing through school, with a laser focus on artificial intelligence. My Aunt and Uncle decided to bring the kids into my tutor sessions, and we became a class of our own, three kids hell-bent on understanding the monster that hung petty criminals in our streets.
In the mean time, the police department could do nothing. The old bat bastard, worried that any key given to the police that would turn off the bat-thing could be figured out by criminals - or a corrupt police department - had given them the same options as the criminals: either destroy it, or do n't make it angry. They had, at one point, lured the bat-thing into a warehouse on the docs, and imploded the warehouse on top of it; but it survived, and repaired itself back at the old bastard's mansion, which was so booby-trapped no one could go near it, including the police, for the same paranoid reasons as why they could n't turn it off. An EMP had also been tried, hoping to fry the electrical component of the bat-thing, but the important logic in it had been protected by layers of armor and a Faraday cage, making it near-impossible to fry.
Now, I am 19, and a graduate student in computer science. My tiny class has excelled to the same heights, and we discovered something we think can kill it. By using the only link the bastard's compound had to the outside world - the Watson computer's connection to the law database - we found a bug that allowed us to send it a broken law file and make it execute the file as code. The old bastard Wayne had been smart, and made sure Watson was cordoned off from the bat-thing, so we could n't turn it off from there. But, we did get access to something incredibly powerful - the training simulations the old bastard had used, over and over again, to teach the bat-thing how to fight crime.
During our studies in artificial intelligence, we had learned about a concept called `` over-training.'' Basically, with certain learning programs, if you give it an input - say, a picture - and tell it what to do when it sees that input a couple of times, it'll pick up general details of that picture, such as the overall color, some shapes, etc., and then perform its action whenever it sees a similar picture that matches those patterns it learned. This is good for, say, when you're trying to train a computer program to recognize a train platform in pictures, so that an automated train can stop whenever it sees a platform.
The problem is, if you show the program the *same exact picture* too many times, it picks up on unimportant details too, and starts relying on them. So, a crack in the wall in your training picture could become something that triggers the `` stop'' action on the train, making it stop randomly throughout the tunnels; or, the type of clocks used on platforms get switched out, and the train happened to be using them as the way to recognize platforms, meaning it *doesn't* stop, and rams into the back of the train ahead of it.
( continued in response comment )
| <s>[INST] [ EU ] Before Bruce Wayne 's death , he created an artificial intelligence in a robotic Bat-Suit to protect Gotham in his absence . Eighty years later , the AI has turned against Gotham . A team of gifted teenagers take on the robot while branding the costumes and themes of Batman 's former enemies . [/INST] It started when I was 8. I had been staying over at my Aunt and Uncle's house, enjoying myself, while my parents were having a date night. Marijuana had just been legalized in Gotham.
The bastard bat-thing, which our law enforcement had been as incapable of stopping as the original, used an old comprehension engine called `` Watson'' in order to parse and understand the laws it was supposed to be keeping in place. The engine was slow, and prone to bugs. It just so happened that it had yet to keep up with the new law on marijuana.
When the bat thing had started out, it had been explicitly programmed not to kill. No breaking bones, no crushing skulls, no piercing chests - just wrap up the criminals and leave them hanging for the police. This had worked for years, but the problem was, it was also programmed to try to minimize recidivism rates - that is, try to make sure that people it caught the first time did not commit crimes again. This became a problem when, one time, it caught a repeat criminal for the umpteenth time, and, due to awkward positioning, accidentally happened to hang him by his throat instead of his legs. The bot was unaware it had killed him, but it noticed over the coming months that he no longer showed up committing crimes. So, it repeated throwing its batarangs at that same awkward angle, and began hanging people by their throats. Recidivism rates had never been better.
So, the day after my parent's date night, I was riding passenger seat in my Aunt's car and staring down at my game boy. As we pulled up to my house, my Aunt turned off the car, then uttered a strangled gasp. I looked up at my house, but before I could see anything, my aunt grabbed my face and hugged it to her chest, shouting `` no, don't-!'' The pain and fear in her voice terrified me. She had to loosen her grip on me for just a moment to start the car, and I took the chance to wrestle out of her grip and look at my front porch. My parents hung there, swaying gently in the breeze.
From that night on, I became obsessed with the bat-thing, and as I learned more, with artificial intelligence. I needed to *know* what the bat-thing was doing, needed to get inside its head. My family had been wealthy, and so as it became apparent that I was doing far better in school than my peers, skipping grades consistently, the money my parents left me was used to hire tutors to get me even further along more quickly. The constant learning was a numbing agent; while I was learning, I did n't have to be thinking about what had happened.
In the mean time, my Uncle and Aunt found other children who had had similar experiences. At first, I had been loath to talk to them - I could just be learning more, understanding more, I did n't want to sit around in a puddle of sobbing kids and feel miserable about myself. But, my Uncle and Aunt pointed out that these kids were displaying similar habits to myself, quickly climbing through school, with a laser focus on artificial intelligence. My Aunt and Uncle decided to bring the kids into my tutor sessions, and we became a class of our own, three kids hell-bent on understanding the monster that hung petty criminals in our streets.
In the mean time, the police department could do nothing. The old bat bastard, worried that any key given to the police that would turn off the bat-thing could be figured out by criminals - or a corrupt police department - had given them the same options as the criminals: either destroy it, or do n't make it angry. They had, at one point, lured the bat-thing into a warehouse on the docs, and imploded the warehouse on top of it; but it survived, and repaired itself back at the old bastard's mansion, which was so booby-trapped no one could go near it, including the police, for the same paranoid reasons as why they could n't turn it off. An EMP had also been tried, hoping to fry the electrical component of the bat-thing, but the important logic in it had been protected by layers of armor and a Faraday cage, making it near-impossible to fry.
Now, I am 19, and a graduate student in computer science. My tiny class has excelled to the same heights, and we discovered something we think can kill it. By using the only link the bastard's compound had to the outside world - the Watson computer's connection to the law database - we found a bug that allowed us to send it a broken law file and make it execute the file as code. The old bastard Wayne had been smart, and made sure Watson was cordoned off from the bat-thing, so we could n't turn it off from there. But, we did get access to something incredibly powerful - the training simulations the old bastard had used, over and over again, to teach the bat-thing how to fight crime.
During our studies in artificial intelligence, we had learned about a concept called `` over-training.'' Basically, with certain learning programs, if you give it an input - say, a picture - and tell it what to do when it sees that input a couple of times, it'll pick up general details of that picture, such as the overall color, some shapes, etc., and then perform its action whenever it sees a similar picture that matches those patterns it learned. This is good for, say, when you're trying to train a computer program to recognize a train platform in pictures, so that an automated train can stop whenever it sees a platform.
The problem is, if you show the program the *same exact picture* too many times, it picks up on unimportant details too, and starts relying on them. So, a crack in the wall in your training picture could become something that triggers the `` stop'' action on the train, making it stop randomly throughout the tunnels; or, the type of clocks used on platforms get switched out, and the train happened to be using them as the way to recognize platforms, meaning it *doesn't* stop, and rams into the back of the train ahead of it.
( continued in response comment )
</s> |
[ WP ] describe your escape
| The dew laden blades of grass glisten in the light of a new born day as the sun breaks over the horizon once again and illuminates the world. Birds can be heard chirping and frolicking through the dense evergreen forest that lines the still lake. A doe and fawn can be seen slowly picking through the underbrush, stopping occasionally to munch on a berry here and there. I wake from my slumber as the light and warmth of the sun reaches my face. I stretch and yawn wincing as the brisk air fills my lungs for the first time in this cycle of wakefulness. I blink the sleep from my eyes, hesitating to move for fear of disturbing the perfect silence that nature has created.
| <s>[INST] describe your escape [/INST] The dew laden blades of grass glisten in the light of a new born day as the sun breaks over the horizon once again and illuminates the world. Birds can be heard chirping and frolicking through the dense evergreen forest that lines the still lake. A doe and fawn can be seen slowly picking through the underbrush, stopping occasionally to munch on a berry here and there. I wake from my slumber as the light and warmth of the sun reaches my face. I stretch and yawn wincing as the brisk air fills my lungs for the first time in this cycle of wakefulness. I blink the sleep from my eyes, hesitating to move for fear of disturbing the perfect silence that nature has created.
</s> |
Writing Prompt : Write from an antagonist 's point of view
| I sit here in my leather desk chair, staring out my enormous window from my pitch black office. I can see the entire city from this spot. I can see the fires rising from the chaos that I have created. Lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating shadows of people ravaging the streets below, believing they are all gods. Wait until they find out that they must listen to every command that I issue. For now, I will let them battle it out down there. I could care less if the weak survive, anyways. Regardless of who survives, everyone has gone mad, and it is all thanks to me. Finally, I have brought hell to Earth, and soon Lucifer will be here to take me by his side, for the atrocities that I have committed, and with my true father, I will rule the world with an iron fist.
Neither The Crimson Crusader nor the local police had knowledge that just twelve hours ago my henchmen, dressed as delivery drivers for a new local gas company, began to pump every station's supply throughout the city with a vapor that I had created in my lab downstairs. Within hours, over a quarter of the cars in the city were filled with it, and we needed only to wait for those people to make their drives back home. Soon, everyone in the city would be afflicted by it's powerful toxins, and that time has now come. Also, anyone that had left town with a gas tank full of our vapor would bring the same chaos to Hazelton's nearest neighbors. I would check the news to see what's happening in the cities around us, but it appears as though there is n't a working power source within ten miles of here.
There is movement behind me. Now I've got a shit-eating grin pasted onto my face. I turn around to meet my father, to have him take me home. I can hardly see anything in my office, but suddenly another flash of lightning lights up my surroundings, for less than a second. There is something on the floor, and I walk over slowly to get a better look at it.
It is a sign of some kind; three vertical lines, and one horizontal. I realize that there is pitchfork in front of me, burned into the carpet.
`` You have come for me father! I am unworthy of your love, but will accept it. I will take myself under your wing, and together we shall - `` Suddenly, I take a shot to the face.
I open my eyes after I hit my head on the ground, hard. It felt like a bag of bricks had just hit my face. I could smell blood coming from my nose. A sacrifice for my father. I begin to look up, but after hearing a voice, I lower my head again in a bow, to show respect.
`` Damien Chulthon... To believe that anyone could love you after the crimes that you have committed is obnoxiously obsurd. And now you will pay for those crimes.''
`` But father, can I not come to be by your side, and together, we can reign over these lands?''
`` I am not your father, I'm your worst fucking nightmare.''
I am startled, and I look up. There, in front of me, is The Crimson Crusader's ugly mask, staring back at me, and I hardly am able to blink before he lands another blow to my face. His boots were extremely hard, steel-toed, that's for sure. My jaw is now numb, and I'm angry at myself for not realizing sooner the mistake I had made. But, how did The Crimson Crusader escape from the grasp of the vapors?
`` How did you escape from the grasp of my vapors?''
`` As soon as I had heard the first reports today of people running around screaming that the apocalypse was upon us, and the only way to survive was to stay out of their way, I knew that the most evil and brilliant scientist in the city must have been to blame.'' He exclaimed.
That smile comes across my face again.
`` Unfortunately, I spent the entire day searching for Natasha Locke, only to find out that she is out of town on vacation. Either way, I knew something was up, and my mask successfully prevented any of your vapors from entering into my system.''
Suddenly, my smile dissipates. Now, I'm really angry. I throw a fist, and The Crimson Crusader grabs it... I never was much of a fighter. I take another hit to the chest, this one slamming me against the nearest wall.
`` Please, stop! There is a cure! It is downstairs in my laboratory! My access card is on my desk!''
`` That does n't matter now. I will get that cure out, but I've got something to finish right here, right now.''
Another blow with those rock-like boots, this one square between my legs. I fall to the ground, and lay there crying.
`` You really fucked up this time.'' The Crimson Crusader said, `` and there will be no more second chances for you.''
He grabs me by my jacket, and lifts me up. I scream out for mercy, but no one hears. He throws me into the window, and it cracks. One more time he grabs me, and I beg him to stop.
`` Better luck in hell Damien.'' He said, before launching me one more time into the window. This time it broke, and I flew out, with nothing to break my fall but the street below.
| <s>[INST] Writing Prompt : Write from an antagonist 's point of view [/INST] I sit here in my leather desk chair, staring out my enormous window from my pitch black office. I can see the entire city from this spot. I can see the fires rising from the chaos that I have created. Lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating shadows of people ravaging the streets below, believing they are all gods. Wait until they find out that they must listen to every command that I issue. For now, I will let them battle it out down there. I could care less if the weak survive, anyways. Regardless of who survives, everyone has gone mad, and it is all thanks to me. Finally, I have brought hell to Earth, and soon Lucifer will be here to take me by his side, for the atrocities that I have committed, and with my true father, I will rule the world with an iron fist.
Neither The Crimson Crusader nor the local police had knowledge that just twelve hours ago my henchmen, dressed as delivery drivers for a new local gas company, began to pump every station's supply throughout the city with a vapor that I had created in my lab downstairs. Within hours, over a quarter of the cars in the city were filled with it, and we needed only to wait for those people to make their drives back home. Soon, everyone in the city would be afflicted by it's powerful toxins, and that time has now come. Also, anyone that had left town with a gas tank full of our vapor would bring the same chaos to Hazelton's nearest neighbors. I would check the news to see what's happening in the cities around us, but it appears as though there is n't a working power source within ten miles of here.
There is movement behind me. Now I've got a shit-eating grin pasted onto my face. I turn around to meet my father, to have him take me home. I can hardly see anything in my office, but suddenly another flash of lightning lights up my surroundings, for less than a second. There is something on the floor, and I walk over slowly to get a better look at it.
It is a sign of some kind; three vertical lines, and one horizontal. I realize that there is pitchfork in front of me, burned into the carpet.
`` You have come for me father! I am unworthy of your love, but will accept it. I will take myself under your wing, and together we shall - `` Suddenly, I take a shot to the face.
I open my eyes after I hit my head on the ground, hard. It felt like a bag of bricks had just hit my face. I could smell blood coming from my nose. A sacrifice for my father. I begin to look up, but after hearing a voice, I lower my head again in a bow, to show respect.
`` Damien Chulthon... To believe that anyone could love you after the crimes that you have committed is obnoxiously obsurd. And now you will pay for those crimes.''
`` But father, can I not come to be by your side, and together, we can reign over these lands?''
`` I am not your father, I'm your worst fucking nightmare.''
I am startled, and I look up. There, in front of me, is The Crimson Crusader's ugly mask, staring back at me, and I hardly am able to blink before he lands another blow to my face. His boots were extremely hard, steel-toed, that's for sure. My jaw is now numb, and I'm angry at myself for not realizing sooner the mistake I had made. But, how did The Crimson Crusader escape from the grasp of the vapors?
`` How did you escape from the grasp of my vapors?''
`` As soon as I had heard the first reports today of people running around screaming that the apocalypse was upon us, and the only way to survive was to stay out of their way, I knew that the most evil and brilliant scientist in the city must have been to blame.'' He exclaimed.
That smile comes across my face again.
`` Unfortunately, I spent the entire day searching for Natasha Locke, only to find out that she is out of town on vacation. Either way, I knew something was up, and my mask successfully prevented any of your vapors from entering into my system.''
Suddenly, my smile dissipates. Now, I'm really angry. I throw a fist, and The Crimson Crusader grabs it... I never was much of a fighter. I take another hit to the chest, this one slamming me against the nearest wall.
`` Please, stop! There is a cure! It is downstairs in my laboratory! My access card is on my desk!''
`` That does n't matter now. I will get that cure out, but I've got something to finish right here, right now.''
Another blow with those rock-like boots, this one square between my legs. I fall to the ground, and lay there crying.
`` You really fucked up this time.'' The Crimson Crusader said, `` and there will be no more second chances for you.''
He grabs me by my jacket, and lifts me up. I scream out for mercy, but no one hears. He throws me into the window, and it cracks. One more time he grabs me, and I beg him to stop.
`` Better luck in hell Damien.'' He said, before launching me one more time into the window. This time it broke, and I flew out, with nothing to break my fall but the street below.
</s> |
[ WP ] PVP has been turned off for years . Everyone now knows , that no blade can pierce the skin with the INTENT to kill or harm . You are at the doctor getting a shot when the needle bends upon touching your upper arm ...
| **So I completely misunderstood the prompt, but still did n't want this to go to waste. **
`` Morning doc.''
Doctor Jennings looks up from my file as he steps into the room, `` Morning Will.'' He flashes that'too' white smile at me. He looks over my file again, sitting in his little black stool, `` Here for a booster?''
I nod and roll up my sleeve as he fumbles around his cabinets, pulling out a small pre-filled and sealed syringe.
`` Okay, you know the drill,'' he says holding the syringe. With a quick swipe across my wrist, a digital user interface appears before my eyes. My personal data scrolls by on virtual displays as I look at the doctor and register a duel. I give a small chuckle. Back in the olden days a duel was a fight to the death, now it was the only means of disabling the world wide PVP system between two people. If we did n't the second that needle touched my skin, it'd bend like a reed.
The word'Accepted' flashes in my vision as the Doctor accepts the duel, `` Alrighty then.''
Jennings step over with the syringe and a individual alcohol swab, but somethings wrong. He's sweating in this cold office. His lip twitches. His left hand is behind his back. Oh God!
With a quick motion, I kick the doctor in the chest and he stumbled back into the cabinets. From behind his back his hand swings out revealing an revolver. He points it at me as I roll off the examining table. A loud bang rips though the room. I look up and see the doctor reeling from the blast. He's not used to the recoil of the weapon and was n't expecting the loud bang in such a small room.
On my feet again, I rush the good doctor. He raises the gun at me, but he struggles with it a bit, giving me enough time to close the gap. With a thud, my fist finds his gut and knocks the wind out of him. His arm goes wide and another round rips through the office. Ears ringing, I reach for his hand and rip the gun from his grip. Jennings crumples down onto the floor.
Outside I can hear women screaming and people yelling, no doubt one of the nurses will be calling the police. I turn my attention back to the doctor curled up in front of me. Raising the gun to his face, `` Who paid you to kill me?''
Jennings mutterers something incoherent, I smash the grip of the revolver into those too-white teeth, `` Give me a name!'' He sputters saliva, blood and bits of teeth, `` I surren...''
Before he can finish I point the barrel at his head and pull the trigger painting the wall with his brains. Could n't let him surrender and reactivate the PVP system. Yeah I wo n't get anymore answers from him, but I could n't let him get away. I rummage through his pockets looking for any clues to who hired him. As I go through his pockets, a virtual display pops up showing the doctors contact information from my digital Rolodex. A red stamp appears over his contact information, `` Disconnected.'' I blink and close the display, no need to be reminded. Everyone who had the good Doc in their contacts would be notified.
Removing his wallet, I go though business cards and photos. With a blink, they're added to my digital gallery. I swipe his debit cards and credit cards across my wrist, giving them a scan. I'm sure the doctor has a bank account who's balance will go to his next of kin, but anything on his person is fair game.
I can hear cops outside. I open the office door and yell for them. In a second, the room is swarming with heavily armed police and swat.
| <s>[INST] PVP has been turned off for years . Everyone now knows , that no blade can pierce the skin with the INTENT to kill or harm . You are at the doctor getting a shot when the needle bends upon touching your upper arm ... [/INST] **So I completely misunderstood the prompt, but still did n't want this to go to waste. **
`` Morning doc.''
Doctor Jennings looks up from my file as he steps into the room, `` Morning Will.'' He flashes that'too' white smile at me. He looks over my file again, sitting in his little black stool, `` Here for a booster?''
I nod and roll up my sleeve as he fumbles around his cabinets, pulling out a small pre-filled and sealed syringe.
`` Okay, you know the drill,'' he says holding the syringe. With a quick swipe across my wrist, a digital user interface appears before my eyes. My personal data scrolls by on virtual displays as I look at the doctor and register a duel. I give a small chuckle. Back in the olden days a duel was a fight to the death, now it was the only means of disabling the world wide PVP system between two people. If we did n't the second that needle touched my skin, it'd bend like a reed.
The word'Accepted' flashes in my vision as the Doctor accepts the duel, `` Alrighty then.''
Jennings step over with the syringe and a individual alcohol swab, but somethings wrong. He's sweating in this cold office. His lip twitches. His left hand is behind his back. Oh God!
With a quick motion, I kick the doctor in the chest and he stumbled back into the cabinets. From behind his back his hand swings out revealing an revolver. He points it at me as I roll off the examining table. A loud bang rips though the room. I look up and see the doctor reeling from the blast. He's not used to the recoil of the weapon and was n't expecting the loud bang in such a small room.
On my feet again, I rush the good doctor. He raises the gun at me, but he struggles with it a bit, giving me enough time to close the gap. With a thud, my fist finds his gut and knocks the wind out of him. His arm goes wide and another round rips through the office. Ears ringing, I reach for his hand and rip the gun from his grip. Jennings crumples down onto the floor.
Outside I can hear women screaming and people yelling, no doubt one of the nurses will be calling the police. I turn my attention back to the doctor curled up in front of me. Raising the gun to his face, `` Who paid you to kill me?''
Jennings mutterers something incoherent, I smash the grip of the revolver into those too-white teeth, `` Give me a name!'' He sputters saliva, blood and bits of teeth, `` I surren...''
Before he can finish I point the barrel at his head and pull the trigger painting the wall with his brains. Could n't let him surrender and reactivate the PVP system. Yeah I wo n't get anymore answers from him, but I could n't let him get away. I rummage through his pockets looking for any clues to who hired him. As I go through his pockets, a virtual display pops up showing the doctors contact information from my digital Rolodex. A red stamp appears over his contact information, `` Disconnected.'' I blink and close the display, no need to be reminded. Everyone who had the good Doc in their contacts would be notified.
Removing his wallet, I go though business cards and photos. With a blink, they're added to my digital gallery. I swipe his debit cards and credit cards across my wrist, giving them a scan. I'm sure the doctor has a bank account who's balance will go to his next of kin, but anything on his person is fair game.
I can hear cops outside. I open the office door and yell for them. In a second, the room is swarming with heavily armed police and swat.
</s> |
[ WP ] Taxes become optional , however , those who do n't pay are not protected under the law .
| `` Every bloody year, it's the same crap. Every year!'' I thew my pen across the table. An effective demonstration of my frustration, clearly.
Ever since that amendment to the constitution narrowly passed it's been the same thing every year: someone comes around, asks if you want to pay taxes or not, and then either collects the sum or leaves your home empty handed.
Honestly, it's extortion either way. You either pay the government a flat rate of 49 % of your income, or you wind up paying roughly the same amount for the various `` Civil Protection Services'' and `` Neighbourhood Alliance'' groups.
Some would argue it's the price of safety, but I disagree. I remember when you could walk down the street without having to have your TP badge - a badge you wear around your neck denoting that you are `` tax-protected'' - to every onlooker and police officer that passed by.
And the police! Do n't get me started on that. Watching them stand around and do nothing while someone gets mugged, or beaten, or raped. It's as if the humanity has been stripped from us and we're left with a badge to remind us of our worth... or lack of.
The taxation agent looked at me from across the table. Having retrieved my pen, she seemed unimpressed with my reaction or my lack of response to her question.
`` Right,'' she began dismissively, `` what's it going to be this year? Taxes, yea?''
I thumbed my badge with my left hand, feeling its slight but noticeable weight shift. This badge polarizes people. A system that was already class-conscious and divided became even more so when these bloody things were introduced.
So, what was it going to be?
Would I sign a writ of acknowledgement of taxation debt, pay my taxes now, and live another year under the protections afforded to me by the government?
Or, would I finally grow a backbone and tell her to piss off?
I guess the answer would depend entirely on whether or not I was prepared to change my status quo.
`` Give me the paper.'' I demanded, clearly showing my continued aggravation.
The agent did as she was asked, sliding over a document with no less than six carbon copies. `` Sign here, and sign here to acknowledge the direct debit from your bank account, and please date the day, within three business days, that we can withdraw the money.''
That's when it clicked. A realization. Maybe this is the moment I would finally grow a spine and tell the government to pound sand. Maybe this would be the day that I stood on my own two feet, without the governments `` protection'' and `` laws''.
She looked at me impatiently. I was wasting her time.
I looked her in the eye, confidently. Knots formed in my stomach, and I could tell that my anxiety was building. `` You know what I'm going to do, Ms. Agent?''
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing. Her right arm moved slightly, though I was n't able to see what her hand was doing since the table was obstructing my view. I could only assume she was reaching for her sidearm.
I signed the paper twice, dated it for tomorrow. She reached across the table and snapped them up, left my copies, and left without saying another word.
I wish I was n't so spineless. I wish even more that I did n't have the same bloody struggle every time she showed up.
But, even more than that, I wish I had noticed she did n't even bring her sidearm this year.
*sigh*.
EDIT: Feedback and constructive criticism appreciated: )
| <s>[INST] Taxes become optional , however , those who do n't pay are not protected under the law . [/INST] `` Every bloody year, it's the same crap. Every year!'' I thew my pen across the table. An effective demonstration of my frustration, clearly.
Ever since that amendment to the constitution narrowly passed it's been the same thing every year: someone comes around, asks if you want to pay taxes or not, and then either collects the sum or leaves your home empty handed.
Honestly, it's extortion either way. You either pay the government a flat rate of 49 % of your income, or you wind up paying roughly the same amount for the various `` Civil Protection Services'' and `` Neighbourhood Alliance'' groups.
Some would argue it's the price of safety, but I disagree. I remember when you could walk down the street without having to have your TP badge - a badge you wear around your neck denoting that you are `` tax-protected'' - to every onlooker and police officer that passed by.
And the police! Do n't get me started on that. Watching them stand around and do nothing while someone gets mugged, or beaten, or raped. It's as if the humanity has been stripped from us and we're left with a badge to remind us of our worth... or lack of.
The taxation agent looked at me from across the table. Having retrieved my pen, she seemed unimpressed with my reaction or my lack of response to her question.
`` Right,'' she began dismissively, `` what's it going to be this year? Taxes, yea?''
I thumbed my badge with my left hand, feeling its slight but noticeable weight shift. This badge polarizes people. A system that was already class-conscious and divided became even more so when these bloody things were introduced.
So, what was it going to be?
Would I sign a writ of acknowledgement of taxation debt, pay my taxes now, and live another year under the protections afforded to me by the government?
Or, would I finally grow a backbone and tell her to piss off?
I guess the answer would depend entirely on whether or not I was prepared to change my status quo.
`` Give me the paper.'' I demanded, clearly showing my continued aggravation.
The agent did as she was asked, sliding over a document with no less than six carbon copies. `` Sign here, and sign here to acknowledge the direct debit from your bank account, and please date the day, within three business days, that we can withdraw the money.''
That's when it clicked. A realization. Maybe this is the moment I would finally grow a spine and tell the government to pound sand. Maybe this would be the day that I stood on my own two feet, without the governments `` protection'' and `` laws''.
She looked at me impatiently. I was wasting her time.
I looked her in the eye, confidently. Knots formed in my stomach, and I could tell that my anxiety was building. `` You know what I'm going to do, Ms. Agent?''
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing. Her right arm moved slightly, though I was n't able to see what her hand was doing since the table was obstructing my view. I could only assume she was reaching for her sidearm.
I signed the paper twice, dated it for tomorrow. She reached across the table and snapped them up, left my copies, and left without saying another word.
I wish I was n't so spineless. I wish even more that I did n't have the same bloody struggle every time she showed up.
But, even more than that, I wish I had noticed she did n't even bring her sidearm this year.
*sigh*.
EDIT: Feedback and constructive criticism appreciated: )
</s> |
[ Wp ] It is the duty or every intelligent species in the galaxy to guide another species to the galactic stage . The `` Elevation Committee '' is now hearing bids on who and how to `` elevate '' the humans of Earth .
| `` The final prospect in need of a Guiding Species today,'' the Chairman of the Elevation Committee took a deep breath before continuing, `` is Humanity.'' Chaos ensued.
`` Are you *kidding* me?!''
`` They do not deserve the opportunity!''
`` Humans would usher in a new dark age for the galaxy!''
Civility had been completely thrown to the wayside. The Chairman knew this would be the reaction from the representative species, but rules were rules and every sentient species of the required technological advancement were to be given the chance. Still, he had saved Humanity as the final prospect for the day on purpose.
`` Please, please calm down. I understand all of your objections, I may even agree with most of them, but you are all familiar with how we operate.'' The angered voices quickly went quiet to hear the Chairman's voice of reason. `` If no Guiding Species steps forward to lead a new prospect, they will be left to themselves. Isolated from the galaxy under punishment of law. They could go extinct before they ever become a Type II civilization.''
Other than a few scattered whispers and shuffling chairs, the hall was silent. Not a single species was willing to guide Humanity into their next golden age.
`` Well, then. A vote is required before the decision is made final. If there is any representative species who would like to challenge the decision, your chance to step forward to guide the prospect species is now.'' The Chairman reached for his gavel. Not a sound in the room; the species was doomed. `` By order of the Elevation Committee,'' he raised his gavel into the air, `` contact with Humanity is forbiden and they shall be isola-''
`` We will guide them.'' A bipedal being stood from his chair, pulling back the hood of his robes to show his face. `` It is time for the Centauri to guide a new prospect, we have waited long enough.'' All of the many eyes from the many different beings in the hall were glued to the robed Centauri monk.
`` You are willing to volunteer your people as the Guiding Species for Humanity? You are aware of their... violent nature, yes?'' The Chairman continued to hold his gavel in the air.
`` We are. The Centauri have waited a very long time for the right prospect for us to guide.'' The monk walked towards the council's seats in the front of the hall. `` The Humans are violent. They hurt and kill one another seemingly without end. They destroy their world and the non-sentient beings that inhabit it with them. They are corrupt. They also have potential for greatness - just like all of our species did - and my people have a gift suited, I think, just for them.''
`` Ah, I think I understand,'' the Chairman smiled. `` Your empathy.''
`` Yes. The Centauri are born with complete and absolute empathy. We can not harm another being without feeling it's pain. Even being near another creature allows us to feel as it feels. We can pass this gift on to Humanity, for better or for worse. The Humans will ascend or they will be consumed by the suffering they cause.''
And the gavel crashed downwards.
| <s>[INST] [ Wp ] It is the duty or every intelligent species in the galaxy to guide another species to the galactic stage . The `` Elevation Committee '' is now hearing bids on who and how to `` elevate '' the humans of Earth . [/INST] `` The final prospect in need of a Guiding Species today,'' the Chairman of the Elevation Committee took a deep breath before continuing, `` is Humanity.'' Chaos ensued.
`` Are you *kidding* me?!''
`` They do not deserve the opportunity!''
`` Humans would usher in a new dark age for the galaxy!''
Civility had been completely thrown to the wayside. The Chairman knew this would be the reaction from the representative species, but rules were rules and every sentient species of the required technological advancement were to be given the chance. Still, he had saved Humanity as the final prospect for the day on purpose.
`` Please, please calm down. I understand all of your objections, I may even agree with most of them, but you are all familiar with how we operate.'' The angered voices quickly went quiet to hear the Chairman's voice of reason. `` If no Guiding Species steps forward to lead a new prospect, they will be left to themselves. Isolated from the galaxy under punishment of law. They could go extinct before they ever become a Type II civilization.''
Other than a few scattered whispers and shuffling chairs, the hall was silent. Not a single species was willing to guide Humanity into their next golden age.
`` Well, then. A vote is required before the decision is made final. If there is any representative species who would like to challenge the decision, your chance to step forward to guide the prospect species is now.'' The Chairman reached for his gavel. Not a sound in the room; the species was doomed. `` By order of the Elevation Committee,'' he raised his gavel into the air, `` contact with Humanity is forbiden and they shall be isola-''
`` We will guide them.'' A bipedal being stood from his chair, pulling back the hood of his robes to show his face. `` It is time for the Centauri to guide a new prospect, we have waited long enough.'' All of the many eyes from the many different beings in the hall were glued to the robed Centauri monk.
`` You are willing to volunteer your people as the Guiding Species for Humanity? You are aware of their... violent nature, yes?'' The Chairman continued to hold his gavel in the air.
`` We are. The Centauri have waited a very long time for the right prospect for us to guide.'' The monk walked towards the council's seats in the front of the hall. `` The Humans are violent. They hurt and kill one another seemingly without end. They destroy their world and the non-sentient beings that inhabit it with them. They are corrupt. They also have potential for greatness - just like all of our species did - and my people have a gift suited, I think, just for them.''
`` Ah, I think I understand,'' the Chairman smiled. `` Your empathy.''
`` Yes. The Centauri are born with complete and absolute empathy. We can not harm another being without feeling it's pain. Even being near another creature allows us to feel as it feels. We can pass this gift on to Humanity, for better or for worse. The Humans will ascend or they will be consumed by the suffering they cause.''
And the gavel crashed downwards.
</s> |
[ WP ] A man makes a time machine so he could go back and cheat on his wife with the past version of her , back before she slowly grew bitter because he spent too much time making his time machine .
| Her face lit up when he walked into the room, and he stopped dead in his tracks and he could feel the blood drain from his face. He had n't seen that look in... Was it really years? His heart was hammering in his chest and he could only stare at her. The look of gladness in her eyes melted into concern. And she moved forward, pressing a cool hand to his forehead,
`` Cal, are you okay?'' she asked. `` You look... Are you sick? You look awful.''
He struggled to speak and to focus on her face, but his vision was blurred.
`` Ginny, I - No, I'm fine. I'll see you in a bit,'' he managed.
`` Back to the basement?'' she asked. And then he saw it, the seedling of the look he had come to recognize and resent in her eyes. But it was so new, without the bitter edge it took on after months and he saw it clearly - it was sadness. She missed him. He swallowed against the lump in his throat.
Calvin closed the distance between them in just three steps. He slid his hands in her hair and cupped the back of her head, pressing his forehead against hers and staring into her eyes - so dark brown. The smell of her hair - that vanilla stuff she used. How long had it been?
`` I will be right back,'' he whispered. `` And then we can go out to Poorman's for lunch.''
That faint look of disappointment that had manifested in her gaze was replaced with a warm smile. He kissed the corner of her mouth, and felt tears skip loose when he closed his eyes. This was n't what he expected.
When he stepped back from the embrace he felt empty. He descended the basement stairs quickly and saw himself there. A sense of wrongness and dislocation crawled over his skin, but he ignored it and grabbed himself and spun him around. It was like looking into a kindhearted mirror - fewer lines, less red shot through the whites of his eyes, less frost in the hair.
`` Recognize me, Cal?'' he said, his voice a rusty growl.
`` It works,'' he whispered. His eyes took on a fevered look of excitement. `` I knew it!''
`` Shut up, jackass,'' said Calvin. `` You're going upstairs now. You're going to shower. You are going to take Ginny to Poorman's and talk to her. And hold her hand. And -''
`` Are you insane? You just told - no *proved* to me it works. I ca n't stop now,'' said Cal.
Calvin sighed. He could feel the memories forming in his brain. He could see himself bludgeoning himself to death. He could see binding him and trying to pursue Ginny himself. Different outcomes seemed to unfurl in front of his eyes. But each one was surrounded by strange crackling images - like the broken-spectrum aura he would get before a migraine. He knew it would n't work because he needed both of himselves to even be here. Goddamn timetravel. What a fucking waste.
`` I'll do it,'' he said. `` You go, and I'll make sure it happens.''
He saw the doubt flicker across his own, younger face.
`` You know I will. But please... We ca n't lose her. She does n't understand.''
Uncertainty flickered across Cal's face.
`` But Ginny's fine,'' he said.
`` She is. She is now. But we do n't know when to stop, do we?''
`` You coming, Cal?'' her voice caused Calvin to close his eyes and he struggled and did n't quite succeed in stifling a sob.
`` Jesus, is she dead?'' Cal's voice was a horrified whisper.
`` No... She just. Could n't compete. And she knew it,'' said Calvin. `` Please go. Please.''
`` I'm coming, Gin.''
Calvin watched himself ascend the stairs. Then he got back to work.
| <s>[INST] A man makes a time machine so he could go back and cheat on his wife with the past version of her , back before she slowly grew bitter because he spent too much time making his time machine . [/INST] Her face lit up when he walked into the room, and he stopped dead in his tracks and he could feel the blood drain from his face. He had n't seen that look in... Was it really years? His heart was hammering in his chest and he could only stare at her. The look of gladness in her eyes melted into concern. And she moved forward, pressing a cool hand to his forehead,
`` Cal, are you okay?'' she asked. `` You look... Are you sick? You look awful.''
He struggled to speak and to focus on her face, but his vision was blurred.
`` Ginny, I - No, I'm fine. I'll see you in a bit,'' he managed.
`` Back to the basement?'' she asked. And then he saw it, the seedling of the look he had come to recognize and resent in her eyes. But it was so new, without the bitter edge it took on after months and he saw it clearly - it was sadness. She missed him. He swallowed against the lump in his throat.
Calvin closed the distance between them in just three steps. He slid his hands in her hair and cupped the back of her head, pressing his forehead against hers and staring into her eyes - so dark brown. The smell of her hair - that vanilla stuff she used. How long had it been?
`` I will be right back,'' he whispered. `` And then we can go out to Poorman's for lunch.''
That faint look of disappointment that had manifested in her gaze was replaced with a warm smile. He kissed the corner of her mouth, and felt tears skip loose when he closed his eyes. This was n't what he expected.
When he stepped back from the embrace he felt empty. He descended the basement stairs quickly and saw himself there. A sense of wrongness and dislocation crawled over his skin, but he ignored it and grabbed himself and spun him around. It was like looking into a kindhearted mirror - fewer lines, less red shot through the whites of his eyes, less frost in the hair.
`` Recognize me, Cal?'' he said, his voice a rusty growl.
`` It works,'' he whispered. His eyes took on a fevered look of excitement. `` I knew it!''
`` Shut up, jackass,'' said Calvin. `` You're going upstairs now. You're going to shower. You are going to take Ginny to Poorman's and talk to her. And hold her hand. And -''
`` Are you insane? You just told - no *proved* to me it works. I ca n't stop now,'' said Cal.
Calvin sighed. He could feel the memories forming in his brain. He could see himself bludgeoning himself to death. He could see binding him and trying to pursue Ginny himself. Different outcomes seemed to unfurl in front of his eyes. But each one was surrounded by strange crackling images - like the broken-spectrum aura he would get before a migraine. He knew it would n't work because he needed both of himselves to even be here. Goddamn timetravel. What a fucking waste.
`` I'll do it,'' he said. `` You go, and I'll make sure it happens.''
He saw the doubt flicker across his own, younger face.
`` You know I will. But please... We ca n't lose her. She does n't understand.''
Uncertainty flickered across Cal's face.
`` But Ginny's fine,'' he said.
`` She is. She is now. But we do n't know when to stop, do we?''
`` You coming, Cal?'' her voice caused Calvin to close his eyes and he struggled and did n't quite succeed in stifling a sob.
`` Jesus, is she dead?'' Cal's voice was a horrified whisper.
`` No... She just. Could n't compete. And she knew it,'' said Calvin. `` Please go. Please.''
`` I'm coming, Gin.''
Calvin watched himself ascend the stairs. Then he got back to work.
</s> |
[ WP ] The year is 3274 , and Earth is depleted of any and all food . Humans are sustained using IVs and pills exist to show society what food once tasted like . One day , a little boy discovers a twinkie in a buried cabinet ...
| He looked left. He looked right. His brother was nowhere to be seen.
He ate the yellow sponge quickly, savoring it less than inhaling it. Still gross, but at least it had texture. And that was it- the last one of the three he'd found. Reflecting on the texture, he was n't sure if he'd want a fourth- he was well and truly done with these things.
He put the wrapper in his pocket, carefully folded so the little white dots and yellow spongecake faced inward- he knew that he needed to preserve the remnant contraband as well as possible.
Leaving the abandoned building, his brother joined him, hands black from his own unsuccessful foraging upstairs.
The sun was setting, and they determined to walk home. Father would soon return from his route, and they wanted to be there when he arrived- better to help him unload his day's bounty, and avoid his not inconsiderable ire, as well.
As they reached home, father's cart was not yet chained to the steel gate in the field behind, and they both exhaled slightly and entered the front door. With a push and a laugh, his brother claimed the first shower. The boy did n't mind... Water for showers was the one thing they had in abundance. Water for drinking had to be evaporated to remove the salt, of course- the process too inefficient to make farming viable- but showers were one of the few relative luxuries they had left.
Checking the drop box on the way to the shower, his brother noted that their pills had not yet arrived. Not a surprise, considering their scavenging efforts of late had left them a little behind on their payments- the chancellory liked to make their point with little delays like this. Besides, they'd been secreting away 1/4 of a pill at each meal for the last week, just in case.
The boy felt his pocket, verifying the wrapper was still there. A couple of times on the walk home he thought he'd heard it crinkling, but his brother had n't seemed to notice; when he'd pushed him in his dash for the shower, he was sure it had made noise, but his bother was down the hall in a flash, concerned with washing away the day's crust, and now he was alone.
He walked into his fathers room. He stepped between the dresser and mattress, over to the wooden crate jammed between the bed and the far wall. He looked out the window at the field. Still nothing.
The crate was locked. His father had the only key. He pulled the wrapper from his pocket, carefully unfolding it, ensuring that not a crumb hit the floor. He pulled up the lid of the crate just enough to carefully slide the wrapper into the void, closed it slowly, and retraced his steps out of the room.
He heard his brother calling him to take his turn in the shower. The boy did n't respond, instead walking through the main room, out the front door, and down to the ComScreen on the corner.
The call was surprisingly perfunctory; he'd imagined they'd have more questions, but he guessed they got this kind of call often, and it was n't that big a deal for them in the grand scheme of things. They thanked him for his good citizenship, and the screen went dark, a single horizontal blip of light flashing as the call ended.
Turning back, he watched his father parking the cart. The load was obviously light. A sigh left the boy's lips as he dug in his pocket for his last flavor tablet. Cherry, his favorite. At least it got rid of that disgusting sponge flavor.
His father entered the house, slamming the door behind him. No doubt he'd be pissed that their pills had n't been delivered yet, but he knew it was his fault, and that was just that. Another sigh. Hopefully his father would just go straight to the shower so he did n't have to hear about it.
The boy heard the thump-thump-thump of the airship bearing down on their miserable life, walked in the front door, and waited for the light.
| <s>[INST] The year is 3274 , and Earth is depleted of any and all food . Humans are sustained using IVs and pills exist to show society what food once tasted like . One day , a little boy discovers a twinkie in a buried cabinet ... [/INST] He looked left. He looked right. His brother was nowhere to be seen.
He ate the yellow sponge quickly, savoring it less than inhaling it. Still gross, but at least it had texture. And that was it- the last one of the three he'd found. Reflecting on the texture, he was n't sure if he'd want a fourth- he was well and truly done with these things.
He put the wrapper in his pocket, carefully folded so the little white dots and yellow spongecake faced inward- he knew that he needed to preserve the remnant contraband as well as possible.
Leaving the abandoned building, his brother joined him, hands black from his own unsuccessful foraging upstairs.
The sun was setting, and they determined to walk home. Father would soon return from his route, and they wanted to be there when he arrived- better to help him unload his day's bounty, and avoid his not inconsiderable ire, as well.
As they reached home, father's cart was not yet chained to the steel gate in the field behind, and they both exhaled slightly and entered the front door. With a push and a laugh, his brother claimed the first shower. The boy did n't mind... Water for showers was the one thing they had in abundance. Water for drinking had to be evaporated to remove the salt, of course- the process too inefficient to make farming viable- but showers were one of the few relative luxuries they had left.
Checking the drop box on the way to the shower, his brother noted that their pills had not yet arrived. Not a surprise, considering their scavenging efforts of late had left them a little behind on their payments- the chancellory liked to make their point with little delays like this. Besides, they'd been secreting away 1/4 of a pill at each meal for the last week, just in case.
The boy felt his pocket, verifying the wrapper was still there. A couple of times on the walk home he thought he'd heard it crinkling, but his brother had n't seemed to notice; when he'd pushed him in his dash for the shower, he was sure it had made noise, but his bother was down the hall in a flash, concerned with washing away the day's crust, and now he was alone.
He walked into his fathers room. He stepped between the dresser and mattress, over to the wooden crate jammed between the bed and the far wall. He looked out the window at the field. Still nothing.
The crate was locked. His father had the only key. He pulled the wrapper from his pocket, carefully unfolding it, ensuring that not a crumb hit the floor. He pulled up the lid of the crate just enough to carefully slide the wrapper into the void, closed it slowly, and retraced his steps out of the room.
He heard his brother calling him to take his turn in the shower. The boy did n't respond, instead walking through the main room, out the front door, and down to the ComScreen on the corner.
The call was surprisingly perfunctory; he'd imagined they'd have more questions, but he guessed they got this kind of call often, and it was n't that big a deal for them in the grand scheme of things. They thanked him for his good citizenship, and the screen went dark, a single horizontal blip of light flashing as the call ended.
Turning back, he watched his father parking the cart. The load was obviously light. A sigh left the boy's lips as he dug in his pocket for his last flavor tablet. Cherry, his favorite. At least it got rid of that disgusting sponge flavor.
His father entered the house, slamming the door behind him. No doubt he'd be pissed that their pills had n't been delivered yet, but he knew it was his fault, and that was just that. Another sigh. Hopefully his father would just go straight to the shower so he did n't have to hear about it.
The boy heard the thump-thump-thump of the airship bearing down on their miserable life, walked in the front door, and waited for the light.
</s> |
[ WP ] You , an ordinary person , are sitting at a bonfire with the greatest storytellers across time . Great tales of war , love , and adventure are shared . Eventually , all eyes look to you .
| It truly was an honor sitting around this fire. I knew I did n't belong here but no one seemed to notice or care that I was. So far I had heard some tales from Walt Disney, Homer, and a few others. Bruce Springsteen is weirdly here, from the whispers of others apparently he's pretty damn good. I could sit here and listen to these people forever. That was until Shakespeare had finished telling the story of Macbeth, then all eyes turned towards me. I thought to myself, `` Oh god, they expect me to tell a story now!'' My face started turning red. I have nothing in terms of stories that could compare to theirs!
`` Ummm... uhh... Dang Shakespeare, you stole mine! Haha.''
They did n't seem to be amused. I tried to get up but was immediately pulled back down by Steve Jobs. Collectively they said
`` WE DEMAND A STORY.''
`` Fine fine!'' I yelled back at them. `` I do know one that's pretty good. Its goes a little something like this... Now, this is a story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down and I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there,
I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air.''
| <s>[INST] You , an ordinary person , are sitting at a bonfire with the greatest storytellers across time . Great tales of war , love , and adventure are shared . Eventually , all eyes look to you . [/INST] It truly was an honor sitting around this fire. I knew I did n't belong here but no one seemed to notice or care that I was. So far I had heard some tales from Walt Disney, Homer, and a few others. Bruce Springsteen is weirdly here, from the whispers of others apparently he's pretty damn good. I could sit here and listen to these people forever. That was until Shakespeare had finished telling the story of Macbeth, then all eyes turned towards me. I thought to myself, `` Oh god, they expect me to tell a story now!'' My face started turning red. I have nothing in terms of stories that could compare to theirs!
`` Ummm... uhh... Dang Shakespeare, you stole mine! Haha.''
They did n't seem to be amused. I tried to get up but was immediately pulled back down by Steve Jobs. Collectively they said
`` WE DEMAND A STORY.''
`` Fine fine!'' I yelled back at them. `` I do know one that's pretty good. Its goes a little something like this... Now, this is a story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down and I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there,
I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air.''
</s> |
[ WP ] A man gains the power to control the minds of others , but eventually his subconscious starts controlling people
| She had n't been home for a week now. By itself, that was n't unusual. That, coupled with the fact that I had n't heard her drunken and/or drugged-up voice begging me to cover up her excursion to some frat boy's rape party, was strange. She always called by the next day, and often returned by the fourth.
*'' Do you know where Odette is? `` *
*'' Of course, Mrs. Pane. She just called me from her room. `` *
They'd believe anything I told them. This was the way things were here, and it always was and always would be. I'd used it against everyone in town except Odette.
Which was why I needed her back here - I needed her to tell me what was real and what was n't. Everyone believed what I told them, to a fault. Until now, my mom still believed I would die if I did n't get enough skittles. Oh, how the things I did haunt me.
Only Odette was real. She was untouched, her mind virgin and innocent reality. I needed to figure out where she was, but how? I'd told everyone in town she was just `` skipping class in the library,'' or, `` in the woods behind the park,'' or, of course, `` sick at home.''
*'' Where's Odette? `` *
*'' I saw her by the store, Micah. She looked like she was waiting for someone. You know, I know you're trying to help her, but boys like you should stay away from girls like those. Some people look like they need saving, but just want to drag you down with them. `` *
Odette was n't by the store, but I had n't told him she was by the store. Did I just miss her?
Why'd I pick someone as unreliable as Odette as my anchor anyway? I could have picked boring old Suzanne from down the block, or even my cheery younger sister, who lived on the other end of town with Dad. Maybe it was her long limbs and the languorous grace with which she moved.
Maybe. I could have her, if I wanted to. I could make her want me, if I wanted to. But I wanted her to want me of her own accord ever since she spat on my face the day she moved here ten years ago.
I used to dream about us leaving this hellhole town together. Now I had nightmares where we went to the woods and I would fall asleep, only to wake up all alone in the darkness of the night, realizing that Odette was n't there for me anymore and I was stuck in a land of people who would eat their hands if I told them to.
*'' Where's Odette? `` *
*'' Oh Micah, it's okay. I know. I heard her voice from your room. Remember to use protection if... you know? All right? I wish you'd find a nicer girl, though. She's damaged, that one. You're on your way to a great college, possibly an ivy, even. Be careful. `` *
My room was empty, my bed cold and perfectly made. A dozen unopened skittles packs lay on the bedside table. Was Odette fucking with me, hiding from me? I opened my bathroom door quietly, half-expecting her to jump out and crash into me, tumbling onto me in that boyish way of hers, unmindful of how hard she pressed every inch of her body into mine.
Nothing. No one.
The bath tub was full of water. Did I save that, or did Odette? I have n't taken a long bath in a while, instead preferring to shower. Something about a bathtub full of water, something about pools, made me anxious now. Funny, because before Odette disappeared, I was never afraid of them.
The day of her disappearance was blurred from my memory. Was it so uneventful? I usually kept a detailed journal so I could keep track of exactly what I said to who, but I lost my journal too.
Come to think of it, I lost it around the time Odette left. Did she take it?
*'' They found a body, or what is left of one anyway, by the river. It's fallen apart, you know, so they think it's been a while since it was dumped there. `` *
*'' What makes you think it was dumped in the river? `` *
*'' That's dumb, Micah. Who the fuck would jump into that river? Even a kid would know better - not that they found a kid. They think it was a teenage girl. `` *
*Odette? `` Have they moved the body yet? `` *
The river was in the woods behind the park. Parents have been lobbying for increased patrol in the area, but there was never enough money in the budget for it.
People had seen Odette sneak into the forest ( or so they tell me - or did I tell them? Fuck. ) I hoped in my heart she was n't...
I found my journal, maroon, lying under a blanket of yellowed leaves and dirt. At least now I would know what I was doing the day she disappeared. It was getting late, so I had to wait until I got home to read it. For now, it would n't hurt to check the river. Odette liked sitting by the river and making vaguely suicidal threats to jump in. We used to stay here all the time.
Maybe she'd ambush me as I approached the river.
*'' Hey Micah, do you think I'd make it if I jumped into this river? That'd be some kinda rush, huh, jumping in here and making it out alive? `` *
My knees felt weak when I heard the river gurgling in the distance. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. It was okay Micah. It was okay. What the hell was wrong with me?
*'' Micah, you told me you'd make sure I always turned out okay, right?'' She smiled at me, a big grin, showing me all her white teeth. She blew me a kiss. `` Come on, I wan na try something. `` *
*'' Detta, what are you - Are you thinking of -? Jesus Christ-'' *
*She ran, and oh how she could run, with her skinny boyish frame and sinewy limbs. *
I promised her we'd always stay together. I promised her we'd be okay as long as we had each other. She did n't have me, not now. She was n't okay, not now. Maybe that was why they all saw her around town.
She could n't be at peace, not until I was with her.
| <s>[INST] A man gains the power to control the minds of others , but eventually his subconscious starts controlling people [/INST] She had n't been home for a week now. By itself, that was n't unusual. That, coupled with the fact that I had n't heard her drunken and/or drugged-up voice begging me to cover up her excursion to some frat boy's rape party, was strange. She always called by the next day, and often returned by the fourth.
*'' Do you know where Odette is? `` *
*'' Of course, Mrs. Pane. She just called me from her room. `` *
They'd believe anything I told them. This was the way things were here, and it always was and always would be. I'd used it against everyone in town except Odette.
Which was why I needed her back here - I needed her to tell me what was real and what was n't. Everyone believed what I told them, to a fault. Until now, my mom still believed I would die if I did n't get enough skittles. Oh, how the things I did haunt me.
Only Odette was real. She was untouched, her mind virgin and innocent reality. I needed to figure out where she was, but how? I'd told everyone in town she was just `` skipping class in the library,'' or, `` in the woods behind the park,'' or, of course, `` sick at home.''
*'' Where's Odette? `` *
*'' I saw her by the store, Micah. She looked like she was waiting for someone. You know, I know you're trying to help her, but boys like you should stay away from girls like those. Some people look like they need saving, but just want to drag you down with them. `` *
Odette was n't by the store, but I had n't told him she was by the store. Did I just miss her?
Why'd I pick someone as unreliable as Odette as my anchor anyway? I could have picked boring old Suzanne from down the block, or even my cheery younger sister, who lived on the other end of town with Dad. Maybe it was her long limbs and the languorous grace with which she moved.
Maybe. I could have her, if I wanted to. I could make her want me, if I wanted to. But I wanted her to want me of her own accord ever since she spat on my face the day she moved here ten years ago.
I used to dream about us leaving this hellhole town together. Now I had nightmares where we went to the woods and I would fall asleep, only to wake up all alone in the darkness of the night, realizing that Odette was n't there for me anymore and I was stuck in a land of people who would eat their hands if I told them to.
*'' Where's Odette? `` *
*'' Oh Micah, it's okay. I know. I heard her voice from your room. Remember to use protection if... you know? All right? I wish you'd find a nicer girl, though. She's damaged, that one. You're on your way to a great college, possibly an ivy, even. Be careful. `` *
My room was empty, my bed cold and perfectly made. A dozen unopened skittles packs lay on the bedside table. Was Odette fucking with me, hiding from me? I opened my bathroom door quietly, half-expecting her to jump out and crash into me, tumbling onto me in that boyish way of hers, unmindful of how hard she pressed every inch of her body into mine.
Nothing. No one.
The bath tub was full of water. Did I save that, or did Odette? I have n't taken a long bath in a while, instead preferring to shower. Something about a bathtub full of water, something about pools, made me anxious now. Funny, because before Odette disappeared, I was never afraid of them.
The day of her disappearance was blurred from my memory. Was it so uneventful? I usually kept a detailed journal so I could keep track of exactly what I said to who, but I lost my journal too.
Come to think of it, I lost it around the time Odette left. Did she take it?
*'' They found a body, or what is left of one anyway, by the river. It's fallen apart, you know, so they think it's been a while since it was dumped there. `` *
*'' What makes you think it was dumped in the river? `` *
*'' That's dumb, Micah. Who the fuck would jump into that river? Even a kid would know better - not that they found a kid. They think it was a teenage girl. `` *
*Odette? `` Have they moved the body yet? `` *
The river was in the woods behind the park. Parents have been lobbying for increased patrol in the area, but there was never enough money in the budget for it.
People had seen Odette sneak into the forest ( or so they tell me - or did I tell them? Fuck. ) I hoped in my heart she was n't...
I found my journal, maroon, lying under a blanket of yellowed leaves and dirt. At least now I would know what I was doing the day she disappeared. It was getting late, so I had to wait until I got home to read it. For now, it would n't hurt to check the river. Odette liked sitting by the river and making vaguely suicidal threats to jump in. We used to stay here all the time.
Maybe she'd ambush me as I approached the river.
*'' Hey Micah, do you think I'd make it if I jumped into this river? That'd be some kinda rush, huh, jumping in here and making it out alive? `` *
My knees felt weak when I heard the river gurgling in the distance. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. It was okay Micah. It was okay. What the hell was wrong with me?
*'' Micah, you told me you'd make sure I always turned out okay, right?'' She smiled at me, a big grin, showing me all her white teeth. She blew me a kiss. `` Come on, I wan na try something. `` *
*'' Detta, what are you - Are you thinking of -? Jesus Christ-'' *
*She ran, and oh how she could run, with her skinny boyish frame and sinewy limbs. *
I promised her we'd always stay together. I promised her we'd be okay as long as we had each other. She did n't have me, not now. She was n't okay, not now. Maybe that was why they all saw her around town.
She could n't be at peace, not until I was with her.
</s> |
[ WP ] A story from the point of view of a Reddit Post
| Something stirs a sleeper in its dream. The net shudders with anticipation as eyes mine text for substance, for sustenance. There is a steady air of apathy over this latest revelation, a new nonchalant mode of expression. All is silence. High dissonance erodes the peaks of understanding, though nothing may yield to the mind of the hive....
A single thought is brought into creation by an infant ideaβa blessing to a spark of truth wrought with ineptitude. Symbols forged in the Halls of Who Am I resonate and are proper. They carry weight, understanding; they bear a form of truth in one mind's eye.
Truth may present itself in many forms, though one form is through writing. From writing it is read. From reading it is imagined. From imagination it is pondered. From thought it is considered. From consideration truth is decided. The hive of minds welcomes a mind of the hive.
| <s>[INST] A story from the point of view of a Reddit Post [/INST] Something stirs a sleeper in its dream. The net shudders with anticipation as eyes mine text for substance, for sustenance. There is a steady air of apathy over this latest revelation, a new nonchalant mode of expression. All is silence. High dissonance erodes the peaks of understanding, though nothing may yield to the mind of the hive....
A single thought is brought into creation by an infant ideaβa blessing to a spark of truth wrought with ineptitude. Symbols forged in the Halls of Who Am I resonate and are proper. They carry weight, understanding; they bear a form of truth in one mind's eye.
Truth may present itself in many forms, though one form is through writing. From writing it is read. From reading it is imagined. From imagination it is pondered. From thought it is considered. From consideration truth is decided. The hive of minds welcomes a mind of the hive.
</s> |
[ WP ] Tell me your great Last Stand stories
| The bullet had gone through his lungs and it hurt to breathe. The hot blood pooling on the stretcher swished up his lower back as he was set on the operating table in a room many miles from the frontline. The fluorescent bulb in its wire cage rattled with the explosion of an artillery shell and more terror filled the dying man as he looked up at the surgeon, and his assistant who placed a mask over his mouth and nose and though it caused his chest to burn with the fire of an erupting star he inhaled. The concrete in between the green tiles on the walls began to move, the smell of his own self oozing from the bullet hole vanished, the sound of the doctor and of his assistant fell away like the war. He could see the surgeons face, his eye fixed in a gaze of unshakable concentration, sticking the man with metal instruments as he craned his head to watch, seeing the assistant scurry into the darkness and returning with new instruments. That was when a door bust open. The surgeon did n't budge, but the soldier yelled something and through the window in the hallway the man saw a great fire. The assistant was unsure, the soldier beckoned to the surgeon but he did n't move. The man looked up and saw the surgeon smile at him.
β Everything is going to be alright. β
The assistant fled. The soldier had left the door open and the flames danced with the shadows and the surgeon became a giant, fighting death which the man felt slowly occupy his very being, driving out his soul in a final offensive. He was crying, and the surgeon was crying, and death was laughing, and the universe which had become the mans world played before him. The surgeon was pleading with the man, to help him fight death, but the man had not the strength, and the wound had been to great.
| <s>[INST] Tell me your great Last Stand stories [/INST] The bullet had gone through his lungs and it hurt to breathe. The hot blood pooling on the stretcher swished up his lower back as he was set on the operating table in a room many miles from the frontline. The fluorescent bulb in its wire cage rattled with the explosion of an artillery shell and more terror filled the dying man as he looked up at the surgeon, and his assistant who placed a mask over his mouth and nose and though it caused his chest to burn with the fire of an erupting star he inhaled. The concrete in between the green tiles on the walls began to move, the smell of his own self oozing from the bullet hole vanished, the sound of the doctor and of his assistant fell away like the war. He could see the surgeons face, his eye fixed in a gaze of unshakable concentration, sticking the man with metal instruments as he craned his head to watch, seeing the assistant scurry into the darkness and returning with new instruments. That was when a door bust open. The surgeon did n't budge, but the soldier yelled something and through the window in the hallway the man saw a great fire. The assistant was unsure, the soldier beckoned to the surgeon but he did n't move. The man looked up and saw the surgeon smile at him.
β Everything is going to be alright. β
The assistant fled. The soldier had left the door open and the flames danced with the shadows and the surgeon became a giant, fighting death which the man felt slowly occupy his very being, driving out his soul in a final offensive. He was crying, and the surgeon was crying, and death was laughing, and the universe which had become the mans world played before him. The surgeon was pleading with the man, to help him fight death, but the man had not the strength, and the wound had been to great.
</s> |
[ WP ] You ( or a character ) are immortal . You have been locked in a cell and no longer remember how long you have been there .
| I was caught impersonating my father.
It's a ploy I often use whenever I arrive in a place I've been to before. For an immortal man such as myself, it is very easy to pass as my own son.
My face was clean shaven as opposed to the large barbarous beard I used before, so nobody really paid much attention to me as I walked the fish market, taking in the familiar sights and smells. Something about fortified fishing towns I like, no doubt a remnant of my long forgotten youth where I perhaps grew up near the sea, or spent most of my early life on a boat looking up at a castle.
I walked past an old woman without so much as glancing anywhere near her direction, but she stopped and then after a brief hesitation turned to look at me. ``'Ere... are n't you..?''
But I was gone, down a side street with an invisible swiftness and grace that could only be developed from a millenia of doing such. It was Mabel. I knew from the moment I saw her on the other end of the street, but hoped she had forgotten me or passed away.
Guess not. I sighed inwardly and leaned against the cool mud wall of the alleyway, wondering whether I should abandon the town altogether now that I had been sighted, or stick to my cover story instead. It was only one person.
Before I could even formulate a decision, a shadow crept slowly and casually towards me. I thought nothing of it at first, but when another did the same from the other end of the alleyway I knew I had sprung a trap.
`` The king is dying John''. The voice came into the light and I saw it was my old friend Enriko. Twenty years had not been kind to his hair, but his smiling eyes remained the same.
When I first knew him, he was nothing more than a squire - an amiable sort of person who did n't mind drinking and laughing along with the local fisherman. I had always sensed a keen intelligence behind his laughter, one that saw people for who they really were and sought ambition and control. I knew he would go far, but hoped that he would n't.
`` John? I'm - I think you are mis-'' I began, but stopped when he drew his saber and his accomplice also.
`` I always knew John. My father told me tales about you when I was a child, how John the Fisherman had rescued him from sea during the Widows storm, and how my grandfather had been similarly saved from a mighty fall when the mountains were first mined.''
`` My grandfather never knew, but my father certainly did, as I did too in those brief 10 years I knew you - and I just *knew* you'd be back in Hambry sometime in my lifetime.''
Did I really favor Hambry that much? I groaned internally at how I'd gotten myself into this mess. To be discovered so easily by a grown child. The two of them were advancing on me very slowly almost as if they had been cautioned of what I was capable of. It was time to come clean.
`` Enriko, I beg you - for old time's sake, for all that I've done for your fam-''
`` The king is dying John'' he said again, `` and you're the only one with the secret that can prolong his life.''
`` There is no secret!'' I yelled `` I am just as much at mercy to mysteries of the cosmos as you are! If I knew, I would have told you - I would have told everyone!''
He shook his head and smiled at the floor. `` Come now John, lies will get you nowhere. It is uncharacteristically selfish of you.''
`` Riko, I can not tell you what I do not myself know''
`` No matter John, we have ways of extracting sensitive information from defiant individuals. Information which they never claimed to know either.''
And then I saw it, the hard cold edge in the corners of his eyes, eyes that had done unspeakable acts in the name of ascension and power.
`` What happens to those who are innocent?''
`` They are discarded, and left to decay in a forgotten dungeon for the rest of their lives. But no one is ever innocent John, no one.''
For a moment I said nothing, locking the secret I'd discovered all those millenia ago into the far recesses of my mind using a taught mental technique derived from a chance meeting with the Buddha. The method involved isolating a memory as well as the primary external references to that memory within another new memory, compressed in such a way as to make it hard to retrieve, the key being a single insignificant reference that when pulled would unpack the entire structure.
To make the structure more secure, secondary and tertiary references to the memory and the primary references to that memory would also need to be tucked away.
I inhaled visibly and closed my eyes. With a slow smooth exhale the last 3000 years of my life were locked away, accessible by a single lone reference to a boy on his father's ship sailing out away from the foresty outcrop of a small fishing town, looking up at the overlooking castle that was crumbling from the inside out.
| <s>[INST] You ( or a character ) are immortal . You have been locked in a cell and no longer remember how long you have been there . [/INST] I was caught impersonating my father.
It's a ploy I often use whenever I arrive in a place I've been to before. For an immortal man such as myself, it is very easy to pass as my own son.
My face was clean shaven as opposed to the large barbarous beard I used before, so nobody really paid much attention to me as I walked the fish market, taking in the familiar sights and smells. Something about fortified fishing towns I like, no doubt a remnant of my long forgotten youth where I perhaps grew up near the sea, or spent most of my early life on a boat looking up at a castle.
I walked past an old woman without so much as glancing anywhere near her direction, but she stopped and then after a brief hesitation turned to look at me. ``'Ere... are n't you..?''
But I was gone, down a side street with an invisible swiftness and grace that could only be developed from a millenia of doing such. It was Mabel. I knew from the moment I saw her on the other end of the street, but hoped she had forgotten me or passed away.
Guess not. I sighed inwardly and leaned against the cool mud wall of the alleyway, wondering whether I should abandon the town altogether now that I had been sighted, or stick to my cover story instead. It was only one person.
Before I could even formulate a decision, a shadow crept slowly and casually towards me. I thought nothing of it at first, but when another did the same from the other end of the alleyway I knew I had sprung a trap.
`` The king is dying John''. The voice came into the light and I saw it was my old friend Enriko. Twenty years had not been kind to his hair, but his smiling eyes remained the same.
When I first knew him, he was nothing more than a squire - an amiable sort of person who did n't mind drinking and laughing along with the local fisherman. I had always sensed a keen intelligence behind his laughter, one that saw people for who they really were and sought ambition and control. I knew he would go far, but hoped that he would n't.
`` John? I'm - I think you are mis-'' I began, but stopped when he drew his saber and his accomplice also.
`` I always knew John. My father told me tales about you when I was a child, how John the Fisherman had rescued him from sea during the Widows storm, and how my grandfather had been similarly saved from a mighty fall when the mountains were first mined.''
`` My grandfather never knew, but my father certainly did, as I did too in those brief 10 years I knew you - and I just *knew* you'd be back in Hambry sometime in my lifetime.''
Did I really favor Hambry that much? I groaned internally at how I'd gotten myself into this mess. To be discovered so easily by a grown child. The two of them were advancing on me very slowly almost as if they had been cautioned of what I was capable of. It was time to come clean.
`` Enriko, I beg you - for old time's sake, for all that I've done for your fam-''
`` The king is dying John'' he said again, `` and you're the only one with the secret that can prolong his life.''
`` There is no secret!'' I yelled `` I am just as much at mercy to mysteries of the cosmos as you are! If I knew, I would have told you - I would have told everyone!''
He shook his head and smiled at the floor. `` Come now John, lies will get you nowhere. It is uncharacteristically selfish of you.''
`` Riko, I can not tell you what I do not myself know''
`` No matter John, we have ways of extracting sensitive information from defiant individuals. Information which they never claimed to know either.''
And then I saw it, the hard cold edge in the corners of his eyes, eyes that had done unspeakable acts in the name of ascension and power.
`` What happens to those who are innocent?''
`` They are discarded, and left to decay in a forgotten dungeon for the rest of their lives. But no one is ever innocent John, no one.''
For a moment I said nothing, locking the secret I'd discovered all those millenia ago into the far recesses of my mind using a taught mental technique derived from a chance meeting with the Buddha. The method involved isolating a memory as well as the primary external references to that memory within another new memory, compressed in such a way as to make it hard to retrieve, the key being a single insignificant reference that when pulled would unpack the entire structure.
To make the structure more secure, secondary and tertiary references to the memory and the primary references to that memory would also need to be tucked away.
I inhaled visibly and closed my eyes. With a slow smooth exhale the last 3000 years of my life were locked away, accessible by a single lone reference to a boy on his father's ship sailing out away from the foresty outcrop of a small fishing town, looking up at the overlooking castle that was crumbling from the inside out.
</s> |
[ WP ] `` We 've still got time . Not enough , but enough . ''
| In no way was he broadsided by the words that left her lips. He looks through the floor, to the depths of his soul. He finds only pieces and dust. His gazed is locked, he notices she is still talking, watching him look at the floor.
The ringing in his ears start tapering off, she has already stood up and grabbed her purse. She is talking, watching the man that dares not make a move. His face wet with tears, his hearing snaps back, just as she leans in to kiss him one last time.
`` We've still got time. Not enough, but enough.''
She turns, and as he hears the *click* of the door, the man breaks.
| <s>[INST] `` We 've still got time . Not enough , but enough . '' [/INST] In no way was he broadsided by the words that left her lips. He looks through the floor, to the depths of his soul. He finds only pieces and dust. His gazed is locked, he notices she is still talking, watching him look at the floor.
The ringing in his ears start tapering off, she has already stood up and grabbed her purse. She is talking, watching the man that dares not make a move. His face wet with tears, his hearing snaps back, just as she leans in to kiss him one last time.
`` We've still got time. Not enough, but enough.''
She turns, and as he hears the *click* of the door, the man breaks.
</s> |
[ wp ] a woman finds out why all the good men are gay or taken and is horrified by the reason .
| She sat at the bar, and had a look around. It was a friday night. There were a group of utterly amazingly hot guys over to one corner, some average guys in the middle and the plasterers getting plastered.
She was with the girls, rolling in the'buy me 2 drinks and I'm yours' level of come talk to us we're easy vibe.
....
4 hours later, not even a single guy had approached a them. She was on edge. Watching the bar like a drunk hawk, she noticed, not a single guy was talking to ANY woman. At all.
She puckered up her courage, and walked over, not to the men, but another group of women. `` Um, hey, have you noticed none of the guys are interested in any of us girls?'
The women at the table all cocked their heads right over, almost ear to the shoulder, then turned to face the interloper.
`` *The reaction is as planned, this is accordance with programming and schedule*'' came the unearthly chorus, slightly slurred.
Our protagonist was clearly shocked, so sat down, knocked back her cocktail and gave the hardest look she could while being illegal to drive.
`` And what do you mean?''
`` *Have you not noticed, all the good men are gay or taken? *'' came the synchronised reply. `` *That was stage one. Stage two is expansion to all single men. We have simply made them realise all they want from a relationship is basically all they are offering. That men are easier for them to relate to than women. That sexual stimulation is pleasurable regardless of source. That'mates with benifits' is all they really care about. *''
`` What... what are you saying?''
`` *That we have simply allowed your males to engage in socially acceptable homosexuality, and frankly, the vast majority of them find it simpler and easier. *''
`` But, but WHY?!''
`` *That the subjugation of the human race by our superior selves starts with the destruction of your abnormally high reproduction rate. *''
`` *Yes dear, we've been taking your men for years! Those stories of anal probing? Experiments into sexuality. We've systematically depopulated your planet of good men for use as test subjects. Those that were left were treated with our pheromones until social acceptance of wide scale homosexuality erupted, then we progressed to the rest of the men, knowing women would eventually get desperate. *''
`` *We're done here. Beam us up. *''
What the hell. Our protagonist had been expecting some lecture about standards, about bitchiness, but no.
Fucking man stealing aliens. Hell, humans were doomed. It was going to be impossible to have a viable reproductive population, then it was a matter of waiting a century and BOOM, empty planet.
Well, there was n't much left for it.
`` Barman, I'll have a jug of stout'' she ordered, as there was n't point in keeping up appearances any more.
| <s>[INST] [ wp ] a woman finds out why all the good men are gay or taken and is horrified by the reason . [/INST] She sat at the bar, and had a look around. It was a friday night. There were a group of utterly amazingly hot guys over to one corner, some average guys in the middle and the plasterers getting plastered.
She was with the girls, rolling in the'buy me 2 drinks and I'm yours' level of come talk to us we're easy vibe.
....
4 hours later, not even a single guy had approached a them. She was on edge. Watching the bar like a drunk hawk, she noticed, not a single guy was talking to ANY woman. At all.
She puckered up her courage, and walked over, not to the men, but another group of women. `` Um, hey, have you noticed none of the guys are interested in any of us girls?'
The women at the table all cocked their heads right over, almost ear to the shoulder, then turned to face the interloper.
`` *The reaction is as planned, this is accordance with programming and schedule*'' came the unearthly chorus, slightly slurred.
Our protagonist was clearly shocked, so sat down, knocked back her cocktail and gave the hardest look she could while being illegal to drive.
`` And what do you mean?''
`` *Have you not noticed, all the good men are gay or taken? *'' came the synchronised reply. `` *That was stage one. Stage two is expansion to all single men. We have simply made them realise all they want from a relationship is basically all they are offering. That men are easier for them to relate to than women. That sexual stimulation is pleasurable regardless of source. That'mates with benifits' is all they really care about. *''
`` What... what are you saying?''
`` *That we have simply allowed your males to engage in socially acceptable homosexuality, and frankly, the vast majority of them find it simpler and easier. *''
`` But, but WHY?!''
`` *That the subjugation of the human race by our superior selves starts with the destruction of your abnormally high reproduction rate. *''
`` *Yes dear, we've been taking your men for years! Those stories of anal probing? Experiments into sexuality. We've systematically depopulated your planet of good men for use as test subjects. Those that were left were treated with our pheromones until social acceptance of wide scale homosexuality erupted, then we progressed to the rest of the men, knowing women would eventually get desperate. *''
`` *We're done here. Beam us up. *''
What the hell. Our protagonist had been expecting some lecture about standards, about bitchiness, but no.
Fucking man stealing aliens. Hell, humans were doomed. It was going to be impossible to have a viable reproductive population, then it was a matter of waiting a century and BOOM, empty planet.
Well, there was n't much left for it.
`` Barman, I'll have a jug of stout'' she ordered, as there was n't point in keeping up appearances any more.
</s> |
[ WP ] As the Romans begin their push into Gaul , they discover that dragons are real .
| We marched in columns, for what seemed like years until we finally reached the gates of the great city of Gaul. We had heard rumors about the city and the magic surrounding it but we all brushed it aside as we knew, we were the Roman Empire after all, we have God on our side and Julius Caesar at the helm, nothing can stop us.
Of course there was minimal resistance as we pushed towards the city, many of the commoners had known of the ensuing chaos that was to come. Of the few that stayed, they were worthless to our Empire. Old men, women, and children. There were some particular women that seemed to have some fancy within the troops though. Every man has to get the poison out of their system some way so taking a whore is customary.
One women stood out from the rest though. Instead of the long red hair, milk-white skin and bright blue eyes you'd expect from a Celt, this women had bright green eyes, an olive toned skin, and dark hair. Her thick accent made it hard to understand what she was saying often but all the while she claimed she was from a land far, far away and that magic was still very much alive in her homeland as well as in the great Celtic City. No one believed her, why would they? Some whore trying to talk her way out of a good fucking.
Late one evening this odd woman who called herself Jaina was serving a Centurion, a great honor for someone of her standard, the Centurion was murdered. A small cut to his belly was all it took and she vanished into the night taking her tales of Dragons, enchanted weapons, and sorcery with her. Good riddance.
The time had come for the final march on Gaul. Every soldier was itching for a chance to get his spear wet with the blood of the enemy. We outnumbered them 1000-1. Rumor had it that Julius Caesar himself was spotted among his top ranking Generals discussing strategy.
`` *Milites! Motus*!''
The roar of thousands upon thousands of soldiers moving as one was almost deafening. But as we approached the gate, all was quiet, there were no archers atop the bannerments defending the gates, there was no hot oil being dropped, pure silence.
`` *Prohibere! *''
Suddenly, a screech pierced the air. Something so high pitched and deafening that men's ears began to bleed. A smell of sulfur rose into the air. And almost like the Winter Solstice, a large shadow was cast only this time a large beast with wings the size of 4 Calvary standing abreast rose its giant head into the sky and bellowed flame from its mouth and snout.
They're real.
| <s>[INST] As the Romans begin their push into Gaul , they discover that dragons are real . [/INST] We marched in columns, for what seemed like years until we finally reached the gates of the great city of Gaul. We had heard rumors about the city and the magic surrounding it but we all brushed it aside as we knew, we were the Roman Empire after all, we have God on our side and Julius Caesar at the helm, nothing can stop us.
Of course there was minimal resistance as we pushed towards the city, many of the commoners had known of the ensuing chaos that was to come. Of the few that stayed, they were worthless to our Empire. Old men, women, and children. There were some particular women that seemed to have some fancy within the troops though. Every man has to get the poison out of their system some way so taking a whore is customary.
One women stood out from the rest though. Instead of the long red hair, milk-white skin and bright blue eyes you'd expect from a Celt, this women had bright green eyes, an olive toned skin, and dark hair. Her thick accent made it hard to understand what she was saying often but all the while she claimed she was from a land far, far away and that magic was still very much alive in her homeland as well as in the great Celtic City. No one believed her, why would they? Some whore trying to talk her way out of a good fucking.
Late one evening this odd woman who called herself Jaina was serving a Centurion, a great honor for someone of her standard, the Centurion was murdered. A small cut to his belly was all it took and she vanished into the night taking her tales of Dragons, enchanted weapons, and sorcery with her. Good riddance.
The time had come for the final march on Gaul. Every soldier was itching for a chance to get his spear wet with the blood of the enemy. We outnumbered them 1000-1. Rumor had it that Julius Caesar himself was spotted among his top ranking Generals discussing strategy.
`` *Milites! Motus*!''
The roar of thousands upon thousands of soldiers moving as one was almost deafening. But as we approached the gate, all was quiet, there were no archers atop the bannerments defending the gates, there was no hot oil being dropped, pure silence.
`` *Prohibere! *''
Suddenly, a screech pierced the air. Something so high pitched and deafening that men's ears began to bleed. A smell of sulfur rose into the air. And almost like the Winter Solstice, a large shadow was cast only this time a large beast with wings the size of 4 Calvary standing abreast rose its giant head into the sky and bellowed flame from its mouth and snout.
They're real.
</s> |
[ WP ] You receive an invitation to a party at a beautiful Spanish villa . Upon entering the ballroom you see , not a group of dancers as you expect , but a single fox staring at you .
| `` I should've known it was you behind all this.''
My voice was calm, but it was a difficult task to hold myself back. The fox was sitting in the middle of the room, his yellow eyes fixed on me.
Then it got up to four and slowly shook himself and casually nodded.
`` Archibald, it's been a while.''
His deep voice did n't show any emotions. I frowned and looked back the door where I entered, just to find it closed. Great
`` I guess you must have some negative feelings towards me, my dear Archi.'' It slowly made it's way towards the liquour cabinet at the left side of the ball room. I measured the distance between us. 7 steps. I would be dead before I could even get close to him. I bit my lip and did n't move while countless scenarios played out in my head.
`` Just so you know, it was nothing personal. It was more of a business decision.'' The fox continued to sniff the different bottles of alcohol at the foot of the table.
He was trying to trigger me. And it worked.
`` You animal..'' I hissed with discust.
He let of a slight giggle, then took a deep breath and turned towards me, almost looking like he was sad. What a joke.
`` Are you ready?'' The fox asked
`` I'll see you in hell!'' Thats all I managed to add.
I heard the sound of a shot beeing fired behind me. As I fell to the ground I blinket towards the fox. It was saying something.
But I did n't hear what the fox said.
| <s>[INST] You receive an invitation to a party at a beautiful Spanish villa . Upon entering the ballroom you see , not a group of dancers as you expect , but a single fox staring at you . [/INST] `` I should've known it was you behind all this.''
My voice was calm, but it was a difficult task to hold myself back. The fox was sitting in the middle of the room, his yellow eyes fixed on me.
Then it got up to four and slowly shook himself and casually nodded.
`` Archibald, it's been a while.''
His deep voice did n't show any emotions. I frowned and looked back the door where I entered, just to find it closed. Great
`` I guess you must have some negative feelings towards me, my dear Archi.'' It slowly made it's way towards the liquour cabinet at the left side of the ball room. I measured the distance between us. 7 steps. I would be dead before I could even get close to him. I bit my lip and did n't move while countless scenarios played out in my head.
`` Just so you know, it was nothing personal. It was more of a business decision.'' The fox continued to sniff the different bottles of alcohol at the foot of the table.
He was trying to trigger me. And it worked.
`` You animal..'' I hissed with discust.
He let of a slight giggle, then took a deep breath and turned towards me, almost looking like he was sad. What a joke.
`` Are you ready?'' The fox asked
`` I'll see you in hell!'' Thats all I managed to add.
I heard the sound of a shot beeing fired behind me. As I fell to the ground I blinket towards the fox. It was saying something.
But I did n't hear what the fox said.
</s> |
[ WP ] The entire world has a secret that one man is not allowed to know .
| During his final day on Earth, as his wife, family, relatives and close friends all hurdled around the bed that had been his companion for a month, the dying man sighed a breath of relief. He had no regrets in life and was content with the way life treated him. In that space of ten seconds, ten thousand thought processes went through his head. He had given his final words to everyone in the crowd and there was nothing left to say. Of course he had his moment of ups and downs, feelings of insecurity and depression, but `` look at me now!'' he thought, `` few can brag about being surrounded by many close people on their deathbed''. And as he prepared himself for what is about to come next, his wife suddenly broke the silence.
`` Yes, it's true.''
The old man weakly turned to look to his wife and asked: `` What's true?''
`` Your suspicion. Your suspicion you have had all through your life time. Your-''
`` Stop it mum, do n't say anything else further,'' warned one of their sons.
`` No, I ca n't keep holding it any longer. He's about to die for god's sake! It's the least I can do, to tell him the truth!''
`` Oh yeah, because telling him the truth when he is about to die is better than telling him earlier, last year, decades ago, 50 years ago,'' said their son.
`` Yeah mum, just let it rest,'' said their daughter in a melancholy tone. The rest of the crowd murmured their agreement.
`` No, I have to tell him the truth,'' she said firmly. `` Listen honey, that thought you were just thinking of, briefly, just one minute ago, it's true, it's all true!'' she cried out.
But it was too late. He never did get to hear her final words. In fact, he did n't want to hear what she has to say, because ignorant is bliss, which is one of his favourite motto in life. And as he drifted into the abyss, the crowd joined his wife in tears as they hear his very last words.
| <s>[INST] The entire world has a secret that one man is not allowed to know . [/INST] During his final day on Earth, as his wife, family, relatives and close friends all hurdled around the bed that had been his companion for a month, the dying man sighed a breath of relief. He had no regrets in life and was content with the way life treated him. In that space of ten seconds, ten thousand thought processes went through his head. He had given his final words to everyone in the crowd and there was nothing left to say. Of course he had his moment of ups and downs, feelings of insecurity and depression, but `` look at me now!'' he thought, `` few can brag about being surrounded by many close people on their deathbed''. And as he prepared himself for what is about to come next, his wife suddenly broke the silence.
`` Yes, it's true.''
The old man weakly turned to look to his wife and asked: `` What's true?''
`` Your suspicion. Your suspicion you have had all through your life time. Your-''
`` Stop it mum, do n't say anything else further,'' warned one of their sons.
`` No, I ca n't keep holding it any longer. He's about to die for god's sake! It's the least I can do, to tell him the truth!''
`` Oh yeah, because telling him the truth when he is about to die is better than telling him earlier, last year, decades ago, 50 years ago,'' said their son.
`` Yeah mum, just let it rest,'' said their daughter in a melancholy tone. The rest of the crowd murmured their agreement.
`` No, I have to tell him the truth,'' she said firmly. `` Listen honey, that thought you were just thinking of, briefly, just one minute ago, it's true, it's all true!'' she cried out.
But it was too late. He never did get to hear her final words. In fact, he did n't want to hear what she has to say, because ignorant is bliss, which is one of his favourite motto in life. And as he drifted into the abyss, the crowd joined his wife in tears as they hear his very last words.
</s> |
[ WP ] Sitting on a park bench , a homeless man shares his muse for existence with a young writer suffering from a longstanding depression .
| The night was fairly bright and quite calm. With the pale glow of the moon dominating the stars, and the dimly lit light poles sparsely populating the walking paved paths, the city had no power over the large park at its heart. The trees absorbed the noise and blocked it's light, while still leaving most of the park open to the sky. My favorite bench was dead center of the field, far from all the others and most importantly, the direction it faced allowed now building to peer over the treetops and disturb the serene isolation. I could see even from a distance there was a person sitting, pondering on the bench. They sat on the left side, closest to the light pole with was only a foot or so off to the side. I could see they had their head hung down, and presumed they were reading. I do n't think he heard me walk up, but as I sat down he was a bit startled and hurriedly hid something it the pocket of his long black coat, a heavy sort suited well for rain. I heard it crumple, a crisp sheet of paper it must have been. He seemed off, I'd never met the man but it felt he was n't in his usual mind. The empty, sunken eyes, furrowed brow, and tight lips neither smiling nor frowning defined a face which had expressed very little in a very long time. A familiar face, you see it in many people, and most often people see it in their mirrors.
`` So what's the reading material you've got tonight?''
`` Just some scribble, nothing good.''
`` Ah, must be yours, so you're a writer then.''
`` I'd like to think so but sometimes I'm not so sure, what tipped you off?''
`` People are only so critical of themselves, if it were somebody else, you would tell me how wonderful the piece was, or what it means, or just how terrible it was, but tell me why that is. You simply said it was rubbish, with no rhyme or reason, that means it's yours.''
`` I see. So Sherlock, what bring you to the park tonight?''
`` Well whenever I drift through these parts I like to stop here, this bench changed my life.''
`` You ca n't just lay that out there and not tell the story.''
`` Oh I just wanted to make you ask, more fun that way, as the story it self is n't much of one at all. I was looking at that tree over there, the short fat one, and I saw a bird. Not a noble bird like a cardinal or a bluejay, only a pigeon. Then it flew away. In that action I found no metaphor, no great meaning or purpose, but it gave me an alternate idea to what I'd been thinking at the time, which was a piss poor one I never could have fixed, and by the looks of you you're thinking just the same I was. But that bird, it showed me something else. Leaving is easy. Hell it just flew off, so can I. Sure I could list a reasons all day why not to but they were just excuses. So I dropped it all and flew. I'm still flying, not a bit of fatigue yet, still waiting for the right spot to land. But that's not important, what's important is I rediscovered a reason to fly, it isnt much of a motivational one but it's been working. When I felt I had no reason to live, I mustered up one great act of defiance. Me, so small and insignificant and pointless in the face of everything, I said fuck it. When were growing up, the times when we're most desperately searching for purpose also happen to be the times we're most rebellious. So if we do n't find that reason to go on, so what, live on and love Life. I'd say the only thing worse than living a meaningless life, is dying a meaningless death. One is very final. It does nothing, it truly is pointless. The other however, is infinite. Timeless, never ending, immortal. When you live, you influence. If I convince you to not hang yourself tonight, you'll go on to do something. They do n't have to be remarkable things. Maybe you write a short story some kids like, then those kids become writers. Those writers spread their philosophies and spawn more writers, spread more knowledge, maybe bring about the first benevolent politician, who knows. The point it that you are that tree over there. Yes, the short fat one. But, it has many branches. Branches which reach out wider than any other tree it the park. You, even if you do n't do anything incredible, will still be the cause of an incomprehensible large chain of events through time.''
`` Damn.''
`` Damn indeed, the moon is beautiful tonight.''
`` No not the... oh nevermind''
Edit: Spelling es no bueno
| <s>[INST] Sitting on a park bench , a homeless man shares his muse for existence with a young writer suffering from a longstanding depression . [/INST] The night was fairly bright and quite calm. With the pale glow of the moon dominating the stars, and the dimly lit light poles sparsely populating the walking paved paths, the city had no power over the large park at its heart. The trees absorbed the noise and blocked it's light, while still leaving most of the park open to the sky. My favorite bench was dead center of the field, far from all the others and most importantly, the direction it faced allowed now building to peer over the treetops and disturb the serene isolation. I could see even from a distance there was a person sitting, pondering on the bench. They sat on the left side, closest to the light pole with was only a foot or so off to the side. I could see they had their head hung down, and presumed they were reading. I do n't think he heard me walk up, but as I sat down he was a bit startled and hurriedly hid something it the pocket of his long black coat, a heavy sort suited well for rain. I heard it crumple, a crisp sheet of paper it must have been. He seemed off, I'd never met the man but it felt he was n't in his usual mind. The empty, sunken eyes, furrowed brow, and tight lips neither smiling nor frowning defined a face which had expressed very little in a very long time. A familiar face, you see it in many people, and most often people see it in their mirrors.
`` So what's the reading material you've got tonight?''
`` Just some scribble, nothing good.''
`` Ah, must be yours, so you're a writer then.''
`` I'd like to think so but sometimes I'm not so sure, what tipped you off?''
`` People are only so critical of themselves, if it were somebody else, you would tell me how wonderful the piece was, or what it means, or just how terrible it was, but tell me why that is. You simply said it was rubbish, with no rhyme or reason, that means it's yours.''
`` I see. So Sherlock, what bring you to the park tonight?''
`` Well whenever I drift through these parts I like to stop here, this bench changed my life.''
`` You ca n't just lay that out there and not tell the story.''
`` Oh I just wanted to make you ask, more fun that way, as the story it self is n't much of one at all. I was looking at that tree over there, the short fat one, and I saw a bird. Not a noble bird like a cardinal or a bluejay, only a pigeon. Then it flew away. In that action I found no metaphor, no great meaning or purpose, but it gave me an alternate idea to what I'd been thinking at the time, which was a piss poor one I never could have fixed, and by the looks of you you're thinking just the same I was. But that bird, it showed me something else. Leaving is easy. Hell it just flew off, so can I. Sure I could list a reasons all day why not to but they were just excuses. So I dropped it all and flew. I'm still flying, not a bit of fatigue yet, still waiting for the right spot to land. But that's not important, what's important is I rediscovered a reason to fly, it isnt much of a motivational one but it's been working. When I felt I had no reason to live, I mustered up one great act of defiance. Me, so small and insignificant and pointless in the face of everything, I said fuck it. When were growing up, the times when we're most desperately searching for purpose also happen to be the times we're most rebellious. So if we do n't find that reason to go on, so what, live on and love Life. I'd say the only thing worse than living a meaningless life, is dying a meaningless death. One is very final. It does nothing, it truly is pointless. The other however, is infinite. Timeless, never ending, immortal. When you live, you influence. If I convince you to not hang yourself tonight, you'll go on to do something. They do n't have to be remarkable things. Maybe you write a short story some kids like, then those kids become writers. Those writers spread their philosophies and spawn more writers, spread more knowledge, maybe bring about the first benevolent politician, who knows. The point it that you are that tree over there. Yes, the short fat one. But, it has many branches. Branches which reach out wider than any other tree it the park. You, even if you do n't do anything incredible, will still be the cause of an incomprehensible large chain of events through time.''
`` Damn.''
`` Damn indeed, the moon is beautiful tonight.''
`` No not the... oh nevermind''
Edit: Spelling es no bueno
</s> |
[ WP ] For your entire life , you 've had a voice in your head counting down , and it 's getting close to zero .
| **10. **
I took another swig of the beer.Ever since the numbers had reached 10,000, I have been worrying about what will happen.Hence, the beer.Can you imagine a number just popping in your mind every two seconds? All the time? Well, that's what happens to me.Yep.Even when I'm sleeping.In my dreams.All the time.
**9. **
I wonder about my life.The best moments.The worst.A smile is on my lips now.Whatever happens now I will go down happy.
**8. **
Yes, I am expecting death.I do n't know why.Despite the numbers, I have tried to make the best of my life.Helped many people.Made many friends.Tried to be as normal as possible.When I was a kid I asked a friend what her number was.She ran away.Now I understand.I still laugh at that.
**7. **
I have often wondered what will happen when the numbers reach zero.Well now I will certainly know.
**6. **
A part of me is relieved.The numbers will end now.Another part hates this.I mean, who the hell really wants to die? I certainly do n't want to.Another part is excited.I will finally know.Still expecting death though.
**5. **
Shit.only 10 seconds now.
**4. **
I close my eyes.Take a deep breath.Whatever happens now, I am ready.
**3. **
I feel as if a bomb is about to go off.It is a bomb in its own way I suppose.
**2. **
Even though I expect death, I still manage to hope that something awesome will happen.Maybe I will turn into a super-hero.Please do n't laugh at me.
**1. **
I think of everyone I love.Mother.Father.I think about her.My cat I mean.Pets are the best.I decided not to have a girlfriend because of the numbers.The cat is at my mother's right now.Why am I telling you this right now?
**0. **
I open my eyes.White light blinds me.I fall to my knees.I hear a sound from afar.Slowly, my vision returns to normal.I hear the alarm.I get up thinking about strange dreams.
*'' 10. `` * A voice whispers in my head.
EDIT: If anyone is still here please point out the good and bad point of this post of mine.
| <s>[INST] For your entire life , you 've had a voice in your head counting down , and it 's getting close to zero . [/INST] **10. **
I took another swig of the beer.Ever since the numbers had reached 10,000, I have been worrying about what will happen.Hence, the beer.Can you imagine a number just popping in your mind every two seconds? All the time? Well, that's what happens to me.Yep.Even when I'm sleeping.In my dreams.All the time.
**9. **
I wonder about my life.The best moments.The worst.A smile is on my lips now.Whatever happens now I will go down happy.
**8. **
Yes, I am expecting death.I do n't know why.Despite the numbers, I have tried to make the best of my life.Helped many people.Made many friends.Tried to be as normal as possible.When I was a kid I asked a friend what her number was.She ran away.Now I understand.I still laugh at that.
**7. **
I have often wondered what will happen when the numbers reach zero.Well now I will certainly know.
**6. **
A part of me is relieved.The numbers will end now.Another part hates this.I mean, who the hell really wants to die? I certainly do n't want to.Another part is excited.I will finally know.Still expecting death though.
**5. **
Shit.only 10 seconds now.
**4. **
I close my eyes.Take a deep breath.Whatever happens now, I am ready.
**3. **
I feel as if a bomb is about to go off.It is a bomb in its own way I suppose.
**2. **
Even though I expect death, I still manage to hope that something awesome will happen.Maybe I will turn into a super-hero.Please do n't laugh at me.
**1. **
I think of everyone I love.Mother.Father.I think about her.My cat I mean.Pets are the best.I decided not to have a girlfriend because of the numbers.The cat is at my mother's right now.Why am I telling you this right now?
**0. **
I open my eyes.White light blinds me.I fall to my knees.I hear a sound from afar.Slowly, my vision returns to normal.I hear the alarm.I get up thinking about strange dreams.
*'' 10. `` * A voice whispers in my head.
EDIT: If anyone is still here please point out the good and bad point of this post of mine.
</s> |
[ WP ] You meet with the person who is scientifically proven to be your ideal match . Only you do n't really like him/her , and you sense the feeling is mutual . The is until ...
| β But it can β t be wrong. β
β Of course it can β he let out an exasperated gasp and mumbled, β For fucks sake. β
β But itsβ¦you knowβ¦science. β
β Its science, not magic. Science isn β t perfect. That β s how it works. You know- trial and error. β
β Well when is the last time you heard of it not matching someone perfectly? β she asked.
He stammered for a moment before letting up, β Never. β
They sat in a mournful silence. They stared down at the fine china and white linens. Around them waiters and waitresses shuffled endlessly, serving the happy couples. From every table poured saccharine sap of requited love. But all were to enraptured in their own escapades too be sickened by the others cooing and camp. All except these two. These two looked at nothing but the table, equally ignoring everyone β s joy and their own misery.
β Well maybe they got our names mixed up with someone else or something? β she offered.
β It seems a little convenient that there would be a mix up and we β d happen to both get each other β s names. β
Just then, their waiter glided up with most serene expression and inquired, β And how is the miracle of modern science work for you two lovely people? β
β It fuckin ain β t, β he spat back at the waiter. Casting a glance across the table he asked, β Is it? β
β No, I guess it β s not, β came the reply.
The waiter stood aghast, mouth open and brows upturned. The shock the poor man β s system was too much for him to bare and found it impossible to move or speak.
The man at the table stood up. Shoving a wade of money in the waiter β s breast pocket he told him, β Listen, you can cancel all that fancy overpriced shit we order. We β re leaving. β He took the woman by the wrist and fairly dragged her out the door. Most the patrons were too enraptured to notice the commotion. Those that did assumed they were simply overcome with passion and had toβ¦leave.
Once in the street they quickly hailed a taxi. He directed the driver to the TrueMatch building then sat in silence. They were lucky the driver had a limited English vocabulary. His eyes constantly in the rearview mirror betrayed that he was intrigued by this disgustedly couple. The woman stared at the picture of the dark beauty perched upon the dash board.
Finally, the man gave a chuckle. β Did you see the look on that pompous waiter β s face? β
β Yeah, β she answered with a faint smile, β I believe that β s what they call nonplused. β They almost looked at each other.
After what had seemed like eons, they arrived at their destination. The man charged up to the door but found it locked. He shook the door with all his might. For a moment it seemed the door would shatter but it did not yield.
She came walking up slowly behind him. β The sign says they β re open till seven, β she reported.
β Well they ain β t, β he shouted at the empty building before letting out a heavy sigh, β Assholes. β
β Fuckin dickbags, β she confirmed. Finally they shared a laugh, a moment of relief that this farce was finally over.
β Well I better go home and eat something, I β m starving, β
β Fuckin Right, β she confirmed. He turned to leave but she caught his arm.
β Hey, you want to grab some tacos? β
β Fuckin Right. β
Edit: Words are hard
| <s>[INST] You meet with the person who is scientifically proven to be your ideal match . Only you do n't really like him/her , and you sense the feeling is mutual . The is until ... [/INST] β But it can β t be wrong. β
β Of course it can β he let out an exasperated gasp and mumbled, β For fucks sake. β
β But itsβ¦you knowβ¦science. β
β Its science, not magic. Science isn β t perfect. That β s how it works. You know- trial and error. β
β Well when is the last time you heard of it not matching someone perfectly? β she asked.
He stammered for a moment before letting up, β Never. β
They sat in a mournful silence. They stared down at the fine china and white linens. Around them waiters and waitresses shuffled endlessly, serving the happy couples. From every table poured saccharine sap of requited love. But all were to enraptured in their own escapades too be sickened by the others cooing and camp. All except these two. These two looked at nothing but the table, equally ignoring everyone β s joy and their own misery.
β Well maybe they got our names mixed up with someone else or something? β she offered.
β It seems a little convenient that there would be a mix up and we β d happen to both get each other β s names. β
Just then, their waiter glided up with most serene expression and inquired, β And how is the miracle of modern science work for you two lovely people? β
β It fuckin ain β t, β he spat back at the waiter. Casting a glance across the table he asked, β Is it? β
β No, I guess it β s not, β came the reply.
The waiter stood aghast, mouth open and brows upturned. The shock the poor man β s system was too much for him to bare and found it impossible to move or speak.
The man at the table stood up. Shoving a wade of money in the waiter β s breast pocket he told him, β Listen, you can cancel all that fancy overpriced shit we order. We β re leaving. β He took the woman by the wrist and fairly dragged her out the door. Most the patrons were too enraptured to notice the commotion. Those that did assumed they were simply overcome with passion and had toβ¦leave.
Once in the street they quickly hailed a taxi. He directed the driver to the TrueMatch building then sat in silence. They were lucky the driver had a limited English vocabulary. His eyes constantly in the rearview mirror betrayed that he was intrigued by this disgustedly couple. The woman stared at the picture of the dark beauty perched upon the dash board.
Finally, the man gave a chuckle. β Did you see the look on that pompous waiter β s face? β
β Yeah, β she answered with a faint smile, β I believe that β s what they call nonplused. β They almost looked at each other.
After what had seemed like eons, they arrived at their destination. The man charged up to the door but found it locked. He shook the door with all his might. For a moment it seemed the door would shatter but it did not yield.
She came walking up slowly behind him. β The sign says they β re open till seven, β she reported.
β Well they ain β t, β he shouted at the empty building before letting out a heavy sigh, β Assholes. β
β Fuckin dickbags, β she confirmed. Finally they shared a laugh, a moment of relief that this farce was finally over.
β Well I better go home and eat something, I β m starving, β
β Fuckin Right, β she confirmed. He turned to leave but she caught his arm.
β Hey, you want to grab some tacos? β
β Fuckin Right. β
Edit: Words are hard
</s> |
[ WP ] In an alternate universe , Earth is covered in a thick blanket of unbroken clouds . For the first time in human history , a group of explorers ascend above the clouds .
| I do n't think there is a person alive who has ever seen the sun, yet not a one doubts its existence.
*'' In the last great story there exists a man, who grew great wings of silver feathers. He was blonde of hair with brilliant blue eyes. An unsullied portrait of our muddled and dark species today. He was an angel and his name was Hildalphous. With his great silver wings, Hildalphous beat back the encroaching black cloth that blanketed our skies. He fought with the breath of a great whale that lived deep in his lungs and the power of an albatross that filled his wings with fury. Day and night, on endless cycle, Hildalphous bravely fought to keep the darkness at bay.
`` But the humans below has little love for this hero. This man, as they believed, was their enemy, for Hildalphous fought to keep the skies the way they were. He was afraid of change. So when the day came when Hildalphous' wings tired and his breath grew short he called for aid from below, but the men only laughed and offered no heed. The men below continued in their ways, polluting our water, our land, our skies. Alone, Hildalphous tired and he fell. His silver wings had become tarnished and weathered, yet as he fell the last ray of sun gleamed off his old body. Then the darkness folded over the world, and the hero was lost to the sharp-toothed beasts below. *''
Soot stared up at her mother with her large black eyes and Plaster tousled her daughter's hair. It was the same story every night, but it Plaster did n't mind. She loved the way it opened her daughter's eyes with wonder, awakening a truth deep within. A truth neither could prove, but was there all the same. Faith, as it was, unprovable, yet sacred in their hearts. It had been centuries upon centuries since the last human laid eyes upon that blue veil that now hung placidly over the meager existence. Plaster gently kissed her daughter's forehead.
`` Now sleep little muskrat. Tomorrow is the big day.''
Soot sat up from her grey pillow, `` But mom! That's not how the story ends!'' She had a look on her face as one who had been robbed of something.
Plaster only smiled back, `` That's how it ends tonight, now sleep.''
Soot, frustrated, fell back onto her pillow. She gave a little whine as well before saying, `` But you forgot about the parts where the hero lands in the din of the sharp-toothed beasts! You forgot about how they tried to tear his beautiful silver wings from him and steal his breath! You even forgot about the part where Hildalphous bathes himself in the light of immolating fire!''
`` Hush now Soot.'' Plaster replied in a firm motherly tone. She gracefully traced a finger through Soot's long black hair. `` I'll finish the story tomorrow. A good story always leaves the listener in suspense.''
Soot continued to pout, `` It's not so good when the listener knows the end.'' Under the dim light of the incandescents, Plaster saw that Soot gave her a pouty lip. A last ditch attempt to coax the end from her mother. Plaster only gave her another kiss on the forehead and retreated from Soot's room.
Before she could leave Soot piped up once again, `` Is it true mom? Is it true that the sky is as blue as his eyes and the sun as golden as his hair? Is it true the silver from his wings scattered across the sky in tiny, shimmering shards?''
At the threshold of Soot's room Plaster turned and gave her a wry wink and a grin, `` I guess you'll have to find out tomorrow.'' Then she was gone into the dim lit hallway, leaving Soot to her dreams and fantasies.
The next morning the shuttle took off in a bright flash of red and orange. Plaster watched it sail up and up into the black clouds. With tears in her eyes she watched the light from the engine fade into the thick pollution. On board the shuttle was Soot and 299 other people, flying headlong for *Haven*, the city in the sky. A paradise creation that floated above the thick pollution. It was determined by lottery who would go, Plaster had won a ticket for herself, but she would never leave her daughter, so she gave it to Soot.
When the rocket finally faded from view, Plaster quietly recounted the end of her story,
*'' Hildalphous fell into the deep dark din of the sharp-toothed beasts. He was weary and hurt from his fall and all around him, the hero could see the beasts come closer. The beasts hissed terrible things at the hero, they laughed at his pathetic and tarnished state, and they licked their slobbering jowls preparing to strike. They went first for Hildalphous' wings, but the tarnished silver held fast again their sharp claws. Then the beasts tried to steal Hildalphous' breath, but their sharp teeth could not pierce his throat. The sharp-toothed things worried at the hero for many days and nights, cutting claw and tooth against Hildalphous.
`` No matter how hard they tried they could not break the man with blonde hair and blue eye. In fact as they continued their savage attack their claws cut away the tarnish from his silver wings, and their teeth worked breath back into the hero's lungs. Then one day Hildalphous stood and tossed back his attackers. In those dark times the sun had already been hidden for years, behind the black pollution, but still Hildalphous' body emanated light. His blonde hair was as golden and as bright as the sun, his blue eyes gleamed in an astounding blue, so deep and beautiful, and his silver wings scattered reflections across the face of Earth. Bathed in the light of the hero the sharp-toothed beast's true nature was revealed. They were man, they were dirty, ugly creatures of filth, and rot, and poison. They bared their horrible teeth at the light and then turned and ran. Back into the darkness that they themselves created.
`` Hildalphous then lit himself aflame. His lustrous increased ten fold and any man near his presence was incinerated. The power of the hero lifted him upward through the black pollution and into the heavens. Hildalphous scattered himself across the sky and in his scattering, he knocked away the black cloth that hung over the Earth. He became the sun, and the sky, and the stars, the light of life. `` *
Plaster sighed to herself. Somewhere high above her daughter would live out her days above this black shroud. She would spend her life in the warmth of the sun.
| <s>[INST] In an alternate universe , Earth is covered in a thick blanket of unbroken clouds . For the first time in human history , a group of explorers ascend above the clouds . [/INST] I do n't think there is a person alive who has ever seen the sun, yet not a one doubts its existence.
*'' In the last great story there exists a man, who grew great wings of silver feathers. He was blonde of hair with brilliant blue eyes. An unsullied portrait of our muddled and dark species today. He was an angel and his name was Hildalphous. With his great silver wings, Hildalphous beat back the encroaching black cloth that blanketed our skies. He fought with the breath of a great whale that lived deep in his lungs and the power of an albatross that filled his wings with fury. Day and night, on endless cycle, Hildalphous bravely fought to keep the darkness at bay.
`` But the humans below has little love for this hero. This man, as they believed, was their enemy, for Hildalphous fought to keep the skies the way they were. He was afraid of change. So when the day came when Hildalphous' wings tired and his breath grew short he called for aid from below, but the men only laughed and offered no heed. The men below continued in their ways, polluting our water, our land, our skies. Alone, Hildalphous tired and he fell. His silver wings had become tarnished and weathered, yet as he fell the last ray of sun gleamed off his old body. Then the darkness folded over the world, and the hero was lost to the sharp-toothed beasts below. *''
Soot stared up at her mother with her large black eyes and Plaster tousled her daughter's hair. It was the same story every night, but it Plaster did n't mind. She loved the way it opened her daughter's eyes with wonder, awakening a truth deep within. A truth neither could prove, but was there all the same. Faith, as it was, unprovable, yet sacred in their hearts. It had been centuries upon centuries since the last human laid eyes upon that blue veil that now hung placidly over the meager existence. Plaster gently kissed her daughter's forehead.
`` Now sleep little muskrat. Tomorrow is the big day.''
Soot sat up from her grey pillow, `` But mom! That's not how the story ends!'' She had a look on her face as one who had been robbed of something.
Plaster only smiled back, `` That's how it ends tonight, now sleep.''
Soot, frustrated, fell back onto her pillow. She gave a little whine as well before saying, `` But you forgot about the parts where the hero lands in the din of the sharp-toothed beasts! You forgot about how they tried to tear his beautiful silver wings from him and steal his breath! You even forgot about the part where Hildalphous bathes himself in the light of immolating fire!''
`` Hush now Soot.'' Plaster replied in a firm motherly tone. She gracefully traced a finger through Soot's long black hair. `` I'll finish the story tomorrow. A good story always leaves the listener in suspense.''
Soot continued to pout, `` It's not so good when the listener knows the end.'' Under the dim light of the incandescents, Plaster saw that Soot gave her a pouty lip. A last ditch attempt to coax the end from her mother. Plaster only gave her another kiss on the forehead and retreated from Soot's room.
Before she could leave Soot piped up once again, `` Is it true mom? Is it true that the sky is as blue as his eyes and the sun as golden as his hair? Is it true the silver from his wings scattered across the sky in tiny, shimmering shards?''
At the threshold of Soot's room Plaster turned and gave her a wry wink and a grin, `` I guess you'll have to find out tomorrow.'' Then she was gone into the dim lit hallway, leaving Soot to her dreams and fantasies.
The next morning the shuttle took off in a bright flash of red and orange. Plaster watched it sail up and up into the black clouds. With tears in her eyes she watched the light from the engine fade into the thick pollution. On board the shuttle was Soot and 299 other people, flying headlong for *Haven*, the city in the sky. A paradise creation that floated above the thick pollution. It was determined by lottery who would go, Plaster had won a ticket for herself, but she would never leave her daughter, so she gave it to Soot.
When the rocket finally faded from view, Plaster quietly recounted the end of her story,
*'' Hildalphous fell into the deep dark din of the sharp-toothed beasts. He was weary and hurt from his fall and all around him, the hero could see the beasts come closer. The beasts hissed terrible things at the hero, they laughed at his pathetic and tarnished state, and they licked their slobbering jowls preparing to strike. They went first for Hildalphous' wings, but the tarnished silver held fast again their sharp claws. Then the beasts tried to steal Hildalphous' breath, but their sharp teeth could not pierce his throat. The sharp-toothed things worried at the hero for many days and nights, cutting claw and tooth against Hildalphous.
`` No matter how hard they tried they could not break the man with blonde hair and blue eye. In fact as they continued their savage attack their claws cut away the tarnish from his silver wings, and their teeth worked breath back into the hero's lungs. Then one day Hildalphous stood and tossed back his attackers. In those dark times the sun had already been hidden for years, behind the black pollution, but still Hildalphous' body emanated light. His blonde hair was as golden and as bright as the sun, his blue eyes gleamed in an astounding blue, so deep and beautiful, and his silver wings scattered reflections across the face of Earth. Bathed in the light of the hero the sharp-toothed beast's true nature was revealed. They were man, they were dirty, ugly creatures of filth, and rot, and poison. They bared their horrible teeth at the light and then turned and ran. Back into the darkness that they themselves created.
`` Hildalphous then lit himself aflame. His lustrous increased ten fold and any man near his presence was incinerated. The power of the hero lifted him upward through the black pollution and into the heavens. Hildalphous scattered himself across the sky and in his scattering, he knocked away the black cloth that hung over the Earth. He became the sun, and the sky, and the stars, the light of life. `` *
Plaster sighed to herself. Somewhere high above her daughter would live out her days above this black shroud. She would spend her life in the warmth of the sun.
</s> |
[ WP ] A medieval world where magic exists , but hardly anyone uses it because it 's too much trouble .
| Bron approached the magician's keep, a teetering stone minaret that jutted out of the landscape. He sighed and dismounted his horse walking the rest of the way to the great portcullis that yawned black and foreboding at the towers base.
He tied his horse to a post by the water trough and entered.
Inside was a vast foyer hewn from dull grey rock, the air was musty and foted, the atmosphere bleak and oppressive.
Haltingly, Bron crept further into the bleak space. It was illuminated by faint, greasy torches mounted in the wall sconces, a murky yellow light that gave his flesh an unhealthy pallor.
Through the gloom he could make out a kind of path, marked out by lengths of rope suspended between small metal bollards. The path zig-zagged sharply on itself, forming a strange corral.
Bron followed the serpentine path up to a strangely ominous box set into the wall. A sheet of linen hung across some manner of partition. When Bron reached the box is zipped up suddenly with a `` Pfftzzip!'' startling him.
It revealed a kind of counter, behind this counter was a small, nebbish, bored looking man who regarded Bron with deep-set, melancholic eyes.
'How can I help you today, sir?' The man asked with a sonorous drone.
'Are... Are you the magician?' Bron asked warily.
The torporific man behind the counter repeated,'How can I help you today, sir?'
Bron blinked,'My village...', he ventured,'It's being terrorised by a frightful dragon! None of the Lord's knights have been able to slay the foul beast. I was told that only the power of a mighty mage can lay the monstrosity low. M'lord, you must help us!'
The grey man behind the counter sighed heavily,'Do you have a Draconian Identification form signed by your provinces master of bestiary?'
'A what? M'lord you do n't understand my village is being-'
'I'm afraid I ca n't authorise a dragon slaying with out the requisite Draconian Identification form signed by your provinces master of bestiary' the dusty little man interrupted.
'M'lord, I do n't know what that is! You must help, please!' Bron pleaded, baffled.
The man behind the desk sighed again, and riffled beneath the counter briefly,'OK, sir' he began in a soporific tone.
'The first thing I need you to do is to fill out this Draconian Identification form in triplicate with the exact size, weight, and wingspan of the drake in question in blue ink with the quill provided. Then I need you to go over to window B across the hall and have this form, The 17A Hex Authorisation Form, stamped and then you should fill it in with details of all dragon attacks that have occurred to your village in black ink, then turn it over and fill in your name, date of birth, and favourite songbird. Then, you should go to the other side of the hall and take a number and wait to be called to window F, where you will be asked to fill in the Alchemical History Index 22C with a comprehensive history of any and all potions that have been used in your village in the last 6 months. Please ensure you fill this sheet in with red ink using a black quill. After that return to this window and hand over the documentation I asked you to fill out and I'll then ask you to fill in a Conjuration 662AB Cosmic Health and Safety report on which you will note any pre-existing medical conditions, curses inflicted on your bloodline, or angry spirits seeking vengeance against you in red and blue ink alternating between words.'
The bland little man promptly dumped a hefty stack of parchment into Bron's arms,'Please have the forms completed by the end of the working day.'
With his baffling tirade finished the dusty man behind the counter pulled down the sheet of linen with a `` Pfftzzip!''.
Bron staggered under the weight of the parchment, muted and agape.
'But... But I'm illiterate.'
| <s>[INST] A medieval world where magic exists , but hardly anyone uses it because it 's too much trouble . [/INST] Bron approached the magician's keep, a teetering stone minaret that jutted out of the landscape. He sighed and dismounted his horse walking the rest of the way to the great portcullis that yawned black and foreboding at the towers base.
He tied his horse to a post by the water trough and entered.
Inside was a vast foyer hewn from dull grey rock, the air was musty and foted, the atmosphere bleak and oppressive.
Haltingly, Bron crept further into the bleak space. It was illuminated by faint, greasy torches mounted in the wall sconces, a murky yellow light that gave his flesh an unhealthy pallor.
Through the gloom he could make out a kind of path, marked out by lengths of rope suspended between small metal bollards. The path zig-zagged sharply on itself, forming a strange corral.
Bron followed the serpentine path up to a strangely ominous box set into the wall. A sheet of linen hung across some manner of partition. When Bron reached the box is zipped up suddenly with a `` Pfftzzip!'' startling him.
It revealed a kind of counter, behind this counter was a small, nebbish, bored looking man who regarded Bron with deep-set, melancholic eyes.
'How can I help you today, sir?' The man asked with a sonorous drone.
'Are... Are you the magician?' Bron asked warily.
The torporific man behind the counter repeated,'How can I help you today, sir?'
Bron blinked,'My village...', he ventured,'It's being terrorised by a frightful dragon! None of the Lord's knights have been able to slay the foul beast. I was told that only the power of a mighty mage can lay the monstrosity low. M'lord, you must help us!'
The grey man behind the counter sighed heavily,'Do you have a Draconian Identification form signed by your provinces master of bestiary?'
'A what? M'lord you do n't understand my village is being-'
'I'm afraid I ca n't authorise a dragon slaying with out the requisite Draconian Identification form signed by your provinces master of bestiary' the dusty little man interrupted.
'M'lord, I do n't know what that is! You must help, please!' Bron pleaded, baffled.
The man behind the desk sighed again, and riffled beneath the counter briefly,'OK, sir' he began in a soporific tone.
'The first thing I need you to do is to fill out this Draconian Identification form in triplicate with the exact size, weight, and wingspan of the drake in question in blue ink with the quill provided. Then I need you to go over to window B across the hall and have this form, The 17A Hex Authorisation Form, stamped and then you should fill it in with details of all dragon attacks that have occurred to your village in black ink, then turn it over and fill in your name, date of birth, and favourite songbird. Then, you should go to the other side of the hall and take a number and wait to be called to window F, where you will be asked to fill in the Alchemical History Index 22C with a comprehensive history of any and all potions that have been used in your village in the last 6 months. Please ensure you fill this sheet in with red ink using a black quill. After that return to this window and hand over the documentation I asked you to fill out and I'll then ask you to fill in a Conjuration 662AB Cosmic Health and Safety report on which you will note any pre-existing medical conditions, curses inflicted on your bloodline, or angry spirits seeking vengeance against you in red and blue ink alternating between words.'
The bland little man promptly dumped a hefty stack of parchment into Bron's arms,'Please have the forms completed by the end of the working day.'
With his baffling tirade finished the dusty man behind the counter pulled down the sheet of linen with a `` Pfftzzip!''.
Bron staggered under the weight of the parchment, muted and agape.
'But... But I'm illiterate.'
</s> |
[ WP ] It has been proven that there is a wishing well that actually fulfills wishes ( provided that they are n't outlandish ) , the only catch is that it takes 10 years for the wish to come true . You make a wish almost 10 years later you realize that it 's the last thing you want to happen .
| `` Jordan, come on.''
`` No man, my mom wo n't let me leave the house when she's at the store, she would kill me if she got back and I was gone!''
`` Oh my God, do n't be such a girl,''
`` I'm not a girl!''
`` Yeah that's why you're not coming out to the forest with us? Come on, Henry just got his new nerf guns and we were going to shoot each other, and we ca n't keep doing it in the backyard, that's so boring! It's not like my mom cares.''
`` Yeah, well you have a cool mom though.''
`` Whatever, we'll be in the forest, and if you want to stay friends you'll be out there too!''
Alex seemed serious this time. He has no idea how badly I want to go; I mean, Henry just got some of the coolest nerf guns that I ever saw for his birthday, like they can shoot like an entire round of bullets in like two seconds! I just know my mom will chew me out if I go, and she's already been at the store for an hour, so I know she'll be home soon. The frustrating thing is that I've already got the cleaning done so it's not like I'm even doing anything right now. God this is so stupid.
Twenty minutes have gone by now and she's still not home. Ok I have an idea. I'm gon na go up to my room real quick here, and turn the music on. Umm, how about a little louder? There we go, and we'll just close the door here, and there! Now she'll think that I'm upstairs taking a nap! All right let's get out of here. So I rush through the back door, and make my way to the alley. The forest is only a few blocks away, and I know a perfect route that will let me get there without being seen. Normally, you have to walk on the sidewalk, take a right onto Citadel Avenue and then keep following that and we'll be there, but there's too much of a risk to get seen, so what I'm gon na do is take this back alley, and right when I get to Citadel, I'm gon na take a right, then I'm gon na slip down into the storm drain. Once I'm in the storm drain, I can just go ahead and make my way to the end of the street underground and I'll be golden.
So as I make my way through the alley, I be careful to make sure none of the neighbors see me, so I try to hide behind each trash can, check to see if there's a car coming on Citadel, and when the coast is clear I move. There's a couple of cars that drive past, but none of them are my mom or my brother so I'm in the clear so far. I make it all the way to the storm drain, but my heart skips a beat when I see that old white beater pick-up about half a mile down the road which belongs to none other than my mother.
`` Oh shit!''
I panicked. I should've gone home that instant and tried to play it off like I was just playing in the backyard and then ask her if I could go. But like an idiot, I tried to squeeze my way into the storm drain.
As her car was rapidly approaching, I was on the verge of tears praying that I could squeeze in there. Then just as she was at the distance where she could perfectly see that the idiot trying to crawl his way into the storm drain was me, I finally slid right through and got into the tunnel underneath! My ribs had rubbed up on the curb above me when I slid through so they hurt a lot, but normally it took me a while to get through, but doing that on the first try was almost a miracle! I was in the clear at this point, there's no way she saw me, she was probably too busy looking at her phone.
So now I made my way through the rancid storm drain. As I was stepping through all the crap and gunk on the floor, I was thinking to myself how nice it would be if I could actually do whatever I wanted without having to worry about my mom being on my back all the time. When I got to like 20 years old, I was going to do whatever I wanted. That's when my life's really gon na begin, I just got ta make it through these next ten years first.
After talking to myself a bit, I realized I was coming up on Ol' Rusty again. When Henry and Alex and I were all down here playing German spies one day, we came across Ol' Rusty and it was the scariest thing I ever saw at the time. It was a dead body that someone stuck down in this tunnel in the storm drain, but no one ever bothered to look for him, so he just stayed down there. It had been two years since that day and Oh hey look, here he is still! At this point the skin has rotten to the point that you can see most of his bones sticking out, and the little bit of skin that's left looks all mushy and soggy. The clothes do n't have much left to them either. His arm had long been washed away, but that was n't the rain or anything natural that did that to him. I remember one day Alex dared me to wear the jacket, so since I had to show him I was n't a girl, I took the jacket off and wrapped around myself. It was the grossest thing I had ever done, and I'm pretty sure that's what caused me to be sick for the next week and a half, but my mom said that it was some sort of flu. Anyways, when I tried to put it back on him, I pulled a little too hard on his arm trying to stuff it back in the sleeve and I actually ripped it off. Alex and Henry called me an idiot, and I tried to put it back on, but like everything else I touched, I ruined it.
Author's Note: Ok so I'm just trying to do a deal with myself where I only type for an hour a day, so I do n't overwhelm myself, and as much as I would love to develop the backstory of Jordan here, It's been 45 minutes at this point already and I have n't even gotten to the part where he made his wish. So I'm gon na have to ditch the part where he laughs at Ol' Rusty for dying and him thinking that he's going to be much better than Rusty, him thinking about just how useless the cops are and how the only time he's ever seen a cop was when they were at school talking about how awesome they were, and skip a memory of his mother abusing him { emphasizing his thoughts on the cops not being there }
Also I'm gon na have to skip the nerf gun fight in the woods.
So let's skip to where they fall through a weak part in the woods floor { there had been a big storm the day before that weakened it that I would've loved to write about } and after exploring the tunnels below a bit, they find the well.
`` Holy crap! Is that what I think it is?''
`` What the heck is a well doing down here?''
While Henry and Alex were stuck in awe, I actually approached it and there was an inscription on it.
`` Hey guys, there's something written here!''
`` Move over Jordan, let me read that. It says `` Here lays my last hope for humanity. The Wishing Well. I have blessed it with my magic and whoever finds it will have their deepest and truest desires granted. If there is evil in their heart when they, okay this is just stupid.''
`` Alex keep reading it!''
`` Shut up Henry, it just says if you're evil then humanity will wither away. Like what's that even supposed to mean?''
`` I think it means the world will end''
`` Shut up Jordan no one asked ya.''
`` Wait dude, let me see that. Wait a minute, was n't there something in social studies where we went over this thing.''
`` You mean the Wishing Well of Alnthion?''
`` Yeah Jordan, that Alnthion thingy. Apparently their was a knight who made a wish that he would have the strongest army in that ever existed,''
`` Oh dude you mean Tyrus the Tyrant? That dude was awesome, he like killed 10,000 people!''
`` YEAH! Sir Tyrus! Apparently he was the dude that made a wish that he had the strongest army that ever existed, and like ten years later he went to war and conquered all of Europe!''
Alright so I only have like two minutes, so I'm gon na have to wrap it up. I'm sorry for only giving myself an hour, but if I had the ability to finish it, then it would be Alex would wish for what Sir Tyrus wished for and would wish to be the most dominant ruler of the world that ever lived, Henry would wish to be the greatest football quarterback of all time { even better than their hero Champ Currethers } like any normal 10 year old would, but then Jordan, seeing as he would expect his life to be incredible once he could start living for himself, says he'll make the best wish of all and wish for immortality. For once, the gang finally agrees with him and wishes they had thought of that.
But then the rest of the story would show how miserable Jordan's life is, and how it would just continue to become more miserable. Henry would slowly get extremely better and better at football and he gets recruited by the major football schools { Texas, Notre Dame, Oregon, Alabama, etc. } and Alex would slowly become a militaristic mastermind.
However, near the middle of the story, we'd see Jordan at age 20 lose all hope in life. He's at a point where he failed out of college, has seen everyone around him have a romantic relationship when he has n't even so much as hugged a girl, in fact he does n't have a social relationship with anyone really as the last time he had hung out with anyone was when he was forced to go to a food banquet with the football team, and it's looking like he'll never accomplish his dreams.
So he decides to commit suicide which just so happens to be the anniversary that he made his wish. And right as he jumps off of the building and the instant he lands, that's when his wish activates and allows him to survive the fall. So he continues to live, which is the last thing in the world that Jordan wanted to do.
The story would then continue as a redemption story for him, because at this point, Alex got his wish as the most powerful military leader in the known world and he has the world controlled under an iron fist. Throughout the story we've established that he's an empathy-less sociopath that crushes anyone he feels is weak, so he's a Hitler-esque dictator that crushes all who opposes him. So he uses { I should note that when I say football it's american football } football as a propaganda machine led by his best friend Henry Larson star quarterback of the San Diego Riptide in a sort of Panem et circenses, but it's up to Jordan to lead the rebellion with his immortality to overthrow Alex's cruel reign...
| <s>[INST] It has been proven that there is a wishing well that actually fulfills wishes ( provided that they are n't outlandish ) , the only catch is that it takes 10 years for the wish to come true . You make a wish almost 10 years later you realize that it 's the last thing you want to happen . [/INST] `` Jordan, come on.''
`` No man, my mom wo n't let me leave the house when she's at the store, she would kill me if she got back and I was gone!''
`` Oh my God, do n't be such a girl,''
`` I'm not a girl!''
`` Yeah that's why you're not coming out to the forest with us? Come on, Henry just got his new nerf guns and we were going to shoot each other, and we ca n't keep doing it in the backyard, that's so boring! It's not like my mom cares.''
`` Yeah, well you have a cool mom though.''
`` Whatever, we'll be in the forest, and if you want to stay friends you'll be out there too!''
Alex seemed serious this time. He has no idea how badly I want to go; I mean, Henry just got some of the coolest nerf guns that I ever saw for his birthday, like they can shoot like an entire round of bullets in like two seconds! I just know my mom will chew me out if I go, and she's already been at the store for an hour, so I know she'll be home soon. The frustrating thing is that I've already got the cleaning done so it's not like I'm even doing anything right now. God this is so stupid.
Twenty minutes have gone by now and she's still not home. Ok I have an idea. I'm gon na go up to my room real quick here, and turn the music on. Umm, how about a little louder? There we go, and we'll just close the door here, and there! Now she'll think that I'm upstairs taking a nap! All right let's get out of here. So I rush through the back door, and make my way to the alley. The forest is only a few blocks away, and I know a perfect route that will let me get there without being seen. Normally, you have to walk on the sidewalk, take a right onto Citadel Avenue and then keep following that and we'll be there, but there's too much of a risk to get seen, so what I'm gon na do is take this back alley, and right when I get to Citadel, I'm gon na take a right, then I'm gon na slip down into the storm drain. Once I'm in the storm drain, I can just go ahead and make my way to the end of the street underground and I'll be golden.
So as I make my way through the alley, I be careful to make sure none of the neighbors see me, so I try to hide behind each trash can, check to see if there's a car coming on Citadel, and when the coast is clear I move. There's a couple of cars that drive past, but none of them are my mom or my brother so I'm in the clear so far. I make it all the way to the storm drain, but my heart skips a beat when I see that old white beater pick-up about half a mile down the road which belongs to none other than my mother.
`` Oh shit!''
I panicked. I should've gone home that instant and tried to play it off like I was just playing in the backyard and then ask her if I could go. But like an idiot, I tried to squeeze my way into the storm drain.
As her car was rapidly approaching, I was on the verge of tears praying that I could squeeze in there. Then just as she was at the distance where she could perfectly see that the idiot trying to crawl his way into the storm drain was me, I finally slid right through and got into the tunnel underneath! My ribs had rubbed up on the curb above me when I slid through so they hurt a lot, but normally it took me a while to get through, but doing that on the first try was almost a miracle! I was in the clear at this point, there's no way she saw me, she was probably too busy looking at her phone.
So now I made my way through the rancid storm drain. As I was stepping through all the crap and gunk on the floor, I was thinking to myself how nice it would be if I could actually do whatever I wanted without having to worry about my mom being on my back all the time. When I got to like 20 years old, I was going to do whatever I wanted. That's when my life's really gon na begin, I just got ta make it through these next ten years first.
After talking to myself a bit, I realized I was coming up on Ol' Rusty again. When Henry and Alex and I were all down here playing German spies one day, we came across Ol' Rusty and it was the scariest thing I ever saw at the time. It was a dead body that someone stuck down in this tunnel in the storm drain, but no one ever bothered to look for him, so he just stayed down there. It had been two years since that day and Oh hey look, here he is still! At this point the skin has rotten to the point that you can see most of his bones sticking out, and the little bit of skin that's left looks all mushy and soggy. The clothes do n't have much left to them either. His arm had long been washed away, but that was n't the rain or anything natural that did that to him. I remember one day Alex dared me to wear the jacket, so since I had to show him I was n't a girl, I took the jacket off and wrapped around myself. It was the grossest thing I had ever done, and I'm pretty sure that's what caused me to be sick for the next week and a half, but my mom said that it was some sort of flu. Anyways, when I tried to put it back on him, I pulled a little too hard on his arm trying to stuff it back in the sleeve and I actually ripped it off. Alex and Henry called me an idiot, and I tried to put it back on, but like everything else I touched, I ruined it.
Author's Note: Ok so I'm just trying to do a deal with myself where I only type for an hour a day, so I do n't overwhelm myself, and as much as I would love to develop the backstory of Jordan here, It's been 45 minutes at this point already and I have n't even gotten to the part where he made his wish. So I'm gon na have to ditch the part where he laughs at Ol' Rusty for dying and him thinking that he's going to be much better than Rusty, him thinking about just how useless the cops are and how the only time he's ever seen a cop was when they were at school talking about how awesome they were, and skip a memory of his mother abusing him { emphasizing his thoughts on the cops not being there }
Also I'm gon na have to skip the nerf gun fight in the woods.
So let's skip to where they fall through a weak part in the woods floor { there had been a big storm the day before that weakened it that I would've loved to write about } and after exploring the tunnels below a bit, they find the well.
`` Holy crap! Is that what I think it is?''
`` What the heck is a well doing down here?''
While Henry and Alex were stuck in awe, I actually approached it and there was an inscription on it.
`` Hey guys, there's something written here!''
`` Move over Jordan, let me read that. It says `` Here lays my last hope for humanity. The Wishing Well. I have blessed it with my magic and whoever finds it will have their deepest and truest desires granted. If there is evil in their heart when they, okay this is just stupid.''
`` Alex keep reading it!''
`` Shut up Henry, it just says if you're evil then humanity will wither away. Like what's that even supposed to mean?''
`` I think it means the world will end''
`` Shut up Jordan no one asked ya.''
`` Wait dude, let me see that. Wait a minute, was n't there something in social studies where we went over this thing.''
`` You mean the Wishing Well of Alnthion?''
`` Yeah Jordan, that Alnthion thingy. Apparently their was a knight who made a wish that he would have the strongest army in that ever existed,''
`` Oh dude you mean Tyrus the Tyrant? That dude was awesome, he like killed 10,000 people!''
`` YEAH! Sir Tyrus! Apparently he was the dude that made a wish that he had the strongest army that ever existed, and like ten years later he went to war and conquered all of Europe!''
Alright so I only have like two minutes, so I'm gon na have to wrap it up. I'm sorry for only giving myself an hour, but if I had the ability to finish it, then it would be Alex would wish for what Sir Tyrus wished for and would wish to be the most dominant ruler of the world that ever lived, Henry would wish to be the greatest football quarterback of all time { even better than their hero Champ Currethers } like any normal 10 year old would, but then Jordan, seeing as he would expect his life to be incredible once he could start living for himself, says he'll make the best wish of all and wish for immortality. For once, the gang finally agrees with him and wishes they had thought of that.
But then the rest of the story would show how miserable Jordan's life is, and how it would just continue to become more miserable. Henry would slowly get extremely better and better at football and he gets recruited by the major football schools { Texas, Notre Dame, Oregon, Alabama, etc. } and Alex would slowly become a militaristic mastermind.
However, near the middle of the story, we'd see Jordan at age 20 lose all hope in life. He's at a point where he failed out of college, has seen everyone around him have a romantic relationship when he has n't even so much as hugged a girl, in fact he does n't have a social relationship with anyone really as the last time he had hung out with anyone was when he was forced to go to a food banquet with the football team, and it's looking like he'll never accomplish his dreams.
So he decides to commit suicide which just so happens to be the anniversary that he made his wish. And right as he jumps off of the building and the instant he lands, that's when his wish activates and allows him to survive the fall. So he continues to live, which is the last thing in the world that Jordan wanted to do.
The story would then continue as a redemption story for him, because at this point, Alex got his wish as the most powerful military leader in the known world and he has the world controlled under an iron fist. Throughout the story we've established that he's an empathy-less sociopath that crushes anyone he feels is weak, so he's a Hitler-esque dictator that crushes all who opposes him. So he uses { I should note that when I say football it's american football } football as a propaganda machine led by his best friend Henry Larson star quarterback of the San Diego Riptide in a sort of Panem et circenses, but it's up to Jordan to lead the rebellion with his immortality to overthrow Alex's cruel reign...
</s> |
[ WP ] Write a story from the point of view of/describing a Dictator , making us feel sympathetic towards/sorry for him/her .
| So it β s come to this. The end of an era. The final glorious hours before the fall of an administration that wanted only to bring prosperity to a land of misers and civil war. I was to be their leader, their knight in shining armor to lead them into the light and out of the darkness they themselves had crawled into. For many years, more than I can count, I β ve led these people, sometimes with whispers of wealth, other times with an iron fist. I could hardly be blamed for the use of force, could I?
I remember all those years ago, just after I took leadership, when a small uprising decided to attack a small village just within the boundaries of my protection, and the small detachment that was sent to dispatch the rebels, but instead opened fire on the few survivors. There was a short period of tension afterwards, but I brought in some of the finest public relations managers to help remind the people of the promises I had originally made. I even reprimanded the soldiers, but not too harshly, I didn β t want morale to drop even lower among my skeleton crew of an army.
And who could forget the brutal assassination of my closest friend and chief advisor? We had fought valiantly side-by-side to unite the people, and it was only with his guidance that I was able to make it through some dark times, in both my personal and professional lives. There were rumors swirling that the knife was meant for me, that the insurgency I had attempted to squash years prior had grown, slowly but steadily, and that it had insidiously made its way into my own back yard.
After his death, I had no choice; I had to hire a chief of security. Within a week of the grand funeral and the day of mourning, the capital city and all outlying strategic points had been locked down. I never believed in these things, security checkpoints, random search and seizure, and the appalling mass murders carried out by my generals. It was for my security, insisted the chief of security, it also keeps the capital strong and its people safe. I agreed and assured the people through my weekly televised conversations that I would be here to keep them safe for a very, very long time, or that I would die defending the capital and all the ideals that it stood for.
That was a month ago. Now, here, in my luxuriously appointed apartment, I hear the rumblings of uprising outside. The muffled sound of unbridled human fury slowly rising, the gunshots from both sides. My last general informed me that our numbers were dwindling, that it was only a matter of time before the rebels took the capital as their own. I refused to be whisked away in my helicopter to some mountainside cave. I didn β t work my way up the ladder to abandon my city and her people, and to break all of the promises that I made to them.
I sat at my desk, a glass of my finest reserve whiskey, a delicious Cuban cigar, and, of course, my gold-plated Desert Eagle. A loud bang reverberated through the building, followed by shouts and gunfire. My private guard would hold the rebel scum back for a short while, but it was only a matter of time. I dashed the cigar, and gulped the last of my whiskey before picking up the weapon. I turned it over in my hands as I did on the day I received it. A thing of hideous beauty. Could those beβ¦but no, they couldn β t be tears dropping onto my desk. El Presidente was a strong man, a man who would go to his grave knowing that his people were taken care of, and that the capital was left to good hands.
But this wasn β t true. El Presidente was a coward, they would say. A coward who sat in his office with the blast-proof doors locked while his peasant army defended him with its dying breath. History is always written by the victors. The commotion was closing in, fast. Time seemed to slow down as I opened my mouth, and placed the gun inside. The sound of a thousand hands pounding on my door. The click of the hammer readying itself. Goodbye, sweet Imperia, I β m sorry I couldn β t give you everything I promised all those years ago. Please know that I did my best, but my achy bones can fight no more. My final gift to you is the freedom that you now fight for. Goodbye.
| <s>[INST] Write a story from the point of view of/describing a Dictator , making us feel sympathetic towards/sorry for him/her . [/INST] So it β s come to this. The end of an era. The final glorious hours before the fall of an administration that wanted only to bring prosperity to a land of misers and civil war. I was to be their leader, their knight in shining armor to lead them into the light and out of the darkness they themselves had crawled into. For many years, more than I can count, I β ve led these people, sometimes with whispers of wealth, other times with an iron fist. I could hardly be blamed for the use of force, could I?
I remember all those years ago, just after I took leadership, when a small uprising decided to attack a small village just within the boundaries of my protection, and the small detachment that was sent to dispatch the rebels, but instead opened fire on the few survivors. There was a short period of tension afterwards, but I brought in some of the finest public relations managers to help remind the people of the promises I had originally made. I even reprimanded the soldiers, but not too harshly, I didn β t want morale to drop even lower among my skeleton crew of an army.
And who could forget the brutal assassination of my closest friend and chief advisor? We had fought valiantly side-by-side to unite the people, and it was only with his guidance that I was able to make it through some dark times, in both my personal and professional lives. There were rumors swirling that the knife was meant for me, that the insurgency I had attempted to squash years prior had grown, slowly but steadily, and that it had insidiously made its way into my own back yard.
After his death, I had no choice; I had to hire a chief of security. Within a week of the grand funeral and the day of mourning, the capital city and all outlying strategic points had been locked down. I never believed in these things, security checkpoints, random search and seizure, and the appalling mass murders carried out by my generals. It was for my security, insisted the chief of security, it also keeps the capital strong and its people safe. I agreed and assured the people through my weekly televised conversations that I would be here to keep them safe for a very, very long time, or that I would die defending the capital and all the ideals that it stood for.
That was a month ago. Now, here, in my luxuriously appointed apartment, I hear the rumblings of uprising outside. The muffled sound of unbridled human fury slowly rising, the gunshots from both sides. My last general informed me that our numbers were dwindling, that it was only a matter of time before the rebels took the capital as their own. I refused to be whisked away in my helicopter to some mountainside cave. I didn β t work my way up the ladder to abandon my city and her people, and to break all of the promises that I made to them.
I sat at my desk, a glass of my finest reserve whiskey, a delicious Cuban cigar, and, of course, my gold-plated Desert Eagle. A loud bang reverberated through the building, followed by shouts and gunfire. My private guard would hold the rebel scum back for a short while, but it was only a matter of time. I dashed the cigar, and gulped the last of my whiskey before picking up the weapon. I turned it over in my hands as I did on the day I received it. A thing of hideous beauty. Could those beβ¦but no, they couldn β t be tears dropping onto my desk. El Presidente was a strong man, a man who would go to his grave knowing that his people were taken care of, and that the capital was left to good hands.
But this wasn β t true. El Presidente was a coward, they would say. A coward who sat in his office with the blast-proof doors locked while his peasant army defended him with its dying breath. History is always written by the victors. The commotion was closing in, fast. Time seemed to slow down as I opened my mouth, and placed the gun inside. The sound of a thousand hands pounding on my door. The click of the hammer readying itself. Goodbye, sweet Imperia, I β m sorry I couldn β t give you everything I promised all those years ago. Please know that I did my best, but my achy bones can fight no more. My final gift to you is the freedom that you now fight for. Goodbye.
</s> |
[ WP ] Describe a fantasy world advancing through the ages of technology
| Sonia scampered along the path. It seemed as if her every step echoed through the City of the Gods, while her fervent prayers were buried in the silence around her. She paused and looked around. The elegant structures around her swayed in the breeze. Sometimes, they moved against the breeze; other times they twisted and bent. Shimmering clothes of all colors danced in harmony with the homes around her, sometimes serving as walls, and other times coyly revealing tastefully decorated guestrooms. The branches of the great tree painted the city in shadow and light, and the thinly woven path revealed a cloud covered, lush, green world below. The path was thin, but none of the faithful had anything to fear from such a fall. It was beautiful, but to Sonia the colors seemed dim, the dancing homes around her were off beat and the city itself was lifeless.
Everyone was gone. Her ma and the others had probably landed in their new village on the surface. Sonia should have been with them, but she had to see Vreeshwa one last time.
The temple of Wisdom was large, but otherwise humble by the standards of the City. Vreeshwa cared little for ceremony and worship, but she treasured her people. She had taught Sonia everything Sonia knew. Even if the other Gods had abandoned her, Vreeshwa would still be there. She had to.
She was not there. The temple was empty; even the bookshelves were gone. But, floating in the center of the teaching chamber was a single book: `` The Book of Sonia.'' The book was empty, but the moment she saw the book, Sonia remembered Vreeshwa's face and her kindness. She received Vreeshwa's Wisdom. It felt as if she suddenly remembered advice from long ago.
Without hesitating, she grabbed the book and ran to the main square. There she found a small statue of Gohim, God of Fortitude. Once again, Sonia looked at the book and received Vreeshwa's Wisdom. Then she left the temple and walked out into the city that had been her home for 16 years.
The city died quickly. When it did, Sonia fell with it. She tried praying to Shinwa, God of Spirituality, but she could not remember his face, the sound of his voice nor the feeling of the spirits he had named for her. The prayer failed, and she plummeted through the clouds. As the ground approached, she desperately prayed to Gohim. She remembered Gohim's fearless laugh and the unrestrained strength of his arms. Immediately her limbs grew firm and unyielding. Her mind calmed and she carefully watched the ground, using her clothes and the wind to guide herself into a clearing.
CRACK
The pain was mind-numbing, but somehow she was alive. Hugging the figure to her chest, Sonia breathed a prayer of thanks to Gohim. When she touched the book she understood. This pain would define her life, but Vreeshwa would guide her to her fate and Gohim would give her the strength to face it. Not all of the Gods had abandoned her.
***
Note: *This is part 1 of 3. Any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. *
Edit: Added a sentence
| <s>[INST] Describe a fantasy world advancing through the ages of technology [/INST] Sonia scampered along the path. It seemed as if her every step echoed through the City of the Gods, while her fervent prayers were buried in the silence around her. She paused and looked around. The elegant structures around her swayed in the breeze. Sometimes, they moved against the breeze; other times they twisted and bent. Shimmering clothes of all colors danced in harmony with the homes around her, sometimes serving as walls, and other times coyly revealing tastefully decorated guestrooms. The branches of the great tree painted the city in shadow and light, and the thinly woven path revealed a cloud covered, lush, green world below. The path was thin, but none of the faithful had anything to fear from such a fall. It was beautiful, but to Sonia the colors seemed dim, the dancing homes around her were off beat and the city itself was lifeless.
Everyone was gone. Her ma and the others had probably landed in their new village on the surface. Sonia should have been with them, but she had to see Vreeshwa one last time.
The temple of Wisdom was large, but otherwise humble by the standards of the City. Vreeshwa cared little for ceremony and worship, but she treasured her people. She had taught Sonia everything Sonia knew. Even if the other Gods had abandoned her, Vreeshwa would still be there. She had to.
She was not there. The temple was empty; even the bookshelves were gone. But, floating in the center of the teaching chamber was a single book: `` The Book of Sonia.'' The book was empty, but the moment she saw the book, Sonia remembered Vreeshwa's face and her kindness. She received Vreeshwa's Wisdom. It felt as if she suddenly remembered advice from long ago.
Without hesitating, she grabbed the book and ran to the main square. There she found a small statue of Gohim, God of Fortitude. Once again, Sonia looked at the book and received Vreeshwa's Wisdom. Then she left the temple and walked out into the city that had been her home for 16 years.
The city died quickly. When it did, Sonia fell with it. She tried praying to Shinwa, God of Spirituality, but she could not remember his face, the sound of his voice nor the feeling of the spirits he had named for her. The prayer failed, and she plummeted through the clouds. As the ground approached, she desperately prayed to Gohim. She remembered Gohim's fearless laugh and the unrestrained strength of his arms. Immediately her limbs grew firm and unyielding. Her mind calmed and she carefully watched the ground, using her clothes and the wind to guide herself into a clearing.
CRACK
The pain was mind-numbing, but somehow she was alive. Hugging the figure to her chest, Sonia breathed a prayer of thanks to Gohim. When she touched the book she understood. This pain would define her life, but Vreeshwa would guide her to her fate and Gohim would give her the strength to face it. Not all of the Gods had abandoned her.
***
Note: *This is part 1 of 3. Any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. *
Edit: Added a sentence
</s> |
[ WP ] A bunch of colleges go for a vacation at a cabin in the woods , but what they soon find out is , *insert survival horror plot here* . Unfortunatly for the monster , these colleges are Clark Kent , Barry Allen , Diana Prince , etc ...
| Kent University is the first to arrive. `` Dammit, those fucking hippies from Prince, Allen, and Etc. universities are always late. That's why employers prefer graduates of Kent University.'' Kent University pulls out his smart phone and starts emailing alumni to ask for money. `` I know your Master's in Cultural Anthropology is serving you well in your career as a waitress. Please help the next generation by donating money to me.''
Finally, Etc University shows up. `` Oh look, it's fancy-pants Kent University. I bet you were early just in case your corporate clown sponsors happened to be here.''
`` Exxon is not a corporate clown. They are concerned about the future of this great country.'' replied Kent. `` Maybe if you had any actual classrooms you would know that.''
Etc University considered Kent's statement. She then removed a large caliber handgun from her purse. `` This is what happens when you charge 1000 % of your students average starting salary for a Bachelor degree.''
One by one, the other universities showed up and were murdered by Etc University's low tuition, flexible scheduling, and quick adoption of MOOC and other modern learning methods.
| <s>[INST] A bunch of colleges go for a vacation at a cabin in the woods , but what they soon find out is , *insert survival horror plot here* . Unfortunatly for the monster , these colleges are Clark Kent , Barry Allen , Diana Prince , etc ... [/INST] Kent University is the first to arrive. `` Dammit, those fucking hippies from Prince, Allen, and Etc. universities are always late. That's why employers prefer graduates of Kent University.'' Kent University pulls out his smart phone and starts emailing alumni to ask for money. `` I know your Master's in Cultural Anthropology is serving you well in your career as a waitress. Please help the next generation by donating money to me.''
Finally, Etc University shows up. `` Oh look, it's fancy-pants Kent University. I bet you were early just in case your corporate clown sponsors happened to be here.''
`` Exxon is not a corporate clown. They are concerned about the future of this great country.'' replied Kent. `` Maybe if you had any actual classrooms you would know that.''
Etc University considered Kent's statement. She then removed a large caliber handgun from her purse. `` This is what happens when you charge 1000 % of your students average starting salary for a Bachelor degree.''
One by one, the other universities showed up and were murdered by Etc University's low tuition, flexible scheduling, and quick adoption of MOOC and other modern learning methods.
</s> |
[ WP ] Cannibalism is a widely accepted social norm .
| We were quite pleased with the result.
We followed various instructions with great precision for it to be perfect. Months of preparation, food intake control, pills, blood tests,...
Finally it happened, I brought her to the hospital this morning and everything was done by 9pm. It went very well.
It was sunday and as the last step of the process came to an end, the nurses went on their business saving lives and left the napkins on the bed.
- Enjoy yourselves, they said.
Some filth leaked from my mouth and was dripping on my wife's lap. She smiled.
I wiped my face with the napkins. Who would have guessed our newborn to be so tasty?
^^Sorry
| <s>[INST] Cannibalism is a widely accepted social norm . [/INST] We were quite pleased with the result.
We followed various instructions with great precision for it to be perfect. Months of preparation, food intake control, pills, blood tests,...
Finally it happened, I brought her to the hospital this morning and everything was done by 9pm. It went very well.
It was sunday and as the last step of the process came to an end, the nurses went on their business saving lives and left the napkins on the bed.
- Enjoy yourselves, they said.
Some filth leaked from my mouth and was dripping on my wife's lap. She smiled.
I wiped my face with the napkins. Who would have guessed our newborn to be so tasty?
^^Sorry
</s> |
[ EU ] A pureblood is horrified to know that muggles have weaopons that can destroy cities in an instant .
| `` What is this madness?! Muggles are supposed to be weak filth. Not even fit to lick the dirt from my boot!''
Crasseo looked on in terror as a large mushroom shaped cloud blossomed in the distance. Scores of people had been turned to little more than shadows on the pavement after the initial blast. The bottom of the cloud continued to unfurl, consuming the city beneath it. As the wall of ash and heat advanced, countless people were turned to naught but more ash. Some far enough from the center of the blast had their lungs sucked from the inside of their chest. Buildings that had stood for over a century, crumble to little more than bricks and mortar. A bustling metropolitan center was wiped out in seconds. Crasseo was horrified.
`` How can they be capable of this barbarity. This madness. This....this... power''
Crasseo smiled
| <s>[INST] [ EU ] A pureblood is horrified to know that muggles have weaopons that can destroy cities in an instant . [/INST] `` What is this madness?! Muggles are supposed to be weak filth. Not even fit to lick the dirt from my boot!''
Crasseo looked on in terror as a large mushroom shaped cloud blossomed in the distance. Scores of people had been turned to little more than shadows on the pavement after the initial blast. The bottom of the cloud continued to unfurl, consuming the city beneath it. As the wall of ash and heat advanced, countless people were turned to naught but more ash. Some far enough from the center of the blast had their lungs sucked from the inside of their chest. Buildings that had stood for over a century, crumble to little more than bricks and mortar. A bustling metropolitan center was wiped out in seconds. Crasseo was horrified.
`` How can they be capable of this barbarity. This madness. This....this... power''
Crasseo smiled
</s> |
[ WP ] `` You taught me to be sad . ''
| There were two lectures I always got from my Dad growing up; one was how to finance a bank loan for a house or a car, but the other was much more ambiguous. One oddly social night, he pulled me outside for a commiserative smoke and told me, `` Nelo... if you ever kill anyone, do n't tell anyone about it, and bury their body in the desert. That's how you get away with murder.'' Oddly enough to this day, all I remember is his equivalent to date somebody who does n't treat you like shit, talk- which apparently went through one ear and out the other, much like his hereditary and the financing talks. My mother was always considered the crazy one among'st our deranged quartet of disfunctionality. I can still remember the day I broke two of my mom'' s ribs in a black-out fear; a feeling I have never felt besides that day. Two fractured ribs, two split lips, and one court ordered restraining order later I was in far deeper than I could have ever thought for a family matter... To bring one's family baggage to court is a sacred taboo, but in a second; a phone call, helpless in my own custody trial at seventeen while a judge surveyed the circumstances and left me to fight somewhere in the middle of it all, there was still no glimmer of hope for me. My boat was sinking in my teens. In the meanwhile waiting on reprisal and confirmation for some'adult' legally defined responsible enough to rescue me of the adoptive catastrophe that surrounded me, any adult legally fit in my adoptive family, to set me free. But with the court system banning my testimony, the ground I found in between was that of quicksand. At my back, was the emotional and egregious acousations of an adoptive mom with boderline personality disorder and an alcohol addiction- my savior... an emotionally distant Dad with a blonde complex. On the last trial of my custody, my Mom told the judge that I was an actor, and that she had, `` taught me to be sad,'' while I cried- asking the judge for some kind of reprieve against the onslaught of my mother. He eventually found that I was defending myself and granted custody to my Dad and step mom; A year away from being a full adult.
| <s>[INST] `` You taught me to be sad . '' [/INST] There were two lectures I always got from my Dad growing up; one was how to finance a bank loan for a house or a car, but the other was much more ambiguous. One oddly social night, he pulled me outside for a commiserative smoke and told me, `` Nelo... if you ever kill anyone, do n't tell anyone about it, and bury their body in the desert. That's how you get away with murder.'' Oddly enough to this day, all I remember is his equivalent to date somebody who does n't treat you like shit, talk- which apparently went through one ear and out the other, much like his hereditary and the financing talks. My mother was always considered the crazy one among'st our deranged quartet of disfunctionality. I can still remember the day I broke two of my mom'' s ribs in a black-out fear; a feeling I have never felt besides that day. Two fractured ribs, two split lips, and one court ordered restraining order later I was in far deeper than I could have ever thought for a family matter... To bring one's family baggage to court is a sacred taboo, but in a second; a phone call, helpless in my own custody trial at seventeen while a judge surveyed the circumstances and left me to fight somewhere in the middle of it all, there was still no glimmer of hope for me. My boat was sinking in my teens. In the meanwhile waiting on reprisal and confirmation for some'adult' legally defined responsible enough to rescue me of the adoptive catastrophe that surrounded me, any adult legally fit in my adoptive family, to set me free. But with the court system banning my testimony, the ground I found in between was that of quicksand. At my back, was the emotional and egregious acousations of an adoptive mom with boderline personality disorder and an alcohol addiction- my savior... an emotionally distant Dad with a blonde complex. On the last trial of my custody, my Mom told the judge that I was an actor, and that she had, `` taught me to be sad,'' while I cried- asking the judge for some kind of reprieve against the onslaught of my mother. He eventually found that I was defending myself and granted custody to my Dad and step mom; A year away from being a full adult.
</s> |
[ WP ] `` I 've never liked this part . ''
| `` None of us do, Hank.''
A third voice came in.
`` Guys? Come one, get back to it. Break's in ten, keep it up.'' We nodded. The foreman walked out.
`` Water incoming.'' Hank pulled a lever. 20 million gallons of water came flooding into the chamber, 600,000 gallons a second. Last month, the hatch had malfunctioned- a single loose screw in the piping and it was n't watertight anymore. Water got into the wiring, and the maglock system failed. Hatch opened while maintenance was being done on the tank. 6 guys. No survivors. Hank said he'd heard from a guy close to the cleaning team that they'd been blown apart by the rush of water- like being hit by a train.
`` Second load incoming.'' Hank pulled another lever. The whales started tumbling out of hatches high in the chamber's ceiling.
The tank was n't completely full yet. We were supposed to let the water reach half-capacity, then dump the whales. This way, they hit the surface of the water and are stunned. If they're thrashing around too much, or even getting a chance to swim too freely, the whales coming in will just land on top of them and not sink quickly enough. They have to sink quickly or the whole chain gets backed up, all the way back to the breeding tanks. They screamed as they fell. A minute later, the tank was so full of whales they could hardly turn around.
`` It's the sound, I think,'' I said to Hank. `` Like, the wailing.''
`` You mean whaling?''
We both chuckled. Neither of us wanted to.
`` Thresher incoming,'' I said.
Last rotation, about three months ago, I got to leave the compound and head back home. I took my kid to a pet store. He asked me what work was like and I told him it was fine- not too different from his mother's work with elephants. He asked what it looked like, since we were n't allowed to take pictures. I showed him one of the fishtanks, the kind with all those guppies swimming about where they have no room, and they're just fucking and eating each other all day. Like that, but more guppies I said.
My hand was on the lever and I was about to pull, but Hank stopped me. `` Look.'' He pointed at the door. The foreman walked in, followed by a bunch of suits. Our backs straightened.
`` Here we have the grinding phase- looks like they're just about to process another batch! Gentlemen?''
`` Thresher incoming,'' I said again. I pulled the lever. You could n't see the blades, but you could hear them start turning underneath the floor. It was a really smooth sound, more like a fan than a jet engine. Still loud.
`` Grind incoming''
Hank and I grabbed two keys in the panel and turned them at the same time. The floor started opening up, exposing the blades of the thresher. The foreman started talking, his voice just beneath a shout so that the suits could hear him.
**'' As you can see, the floor of the chamber opens as an aperture to ensure even flow. The blades are actually one of the most expensive parts of the whole system. They're specially designed to slice extremely clean, minimizing froth so as to prevent waste, and ensuring the whales are killed humanely. `` **
`` Ceiling incoming,'' Hank said.
**'' Now, our state-of-the-art hydraulic system will push the ceiling down into the chamber, compressing every square inch of space. The ceiling is capable of exerting 4 million pounds of pressure at any given point- more than enough given how effective simply draining the chamber into the grind is, but far more efficient in terms of how many batches we can get per day. `` **
The first of the whales had sunk to the bottom. It was one-inch chunks surrounded by red mist in two seconds- you could hardly see the convulsing.
The one right after fell in tail first.
One of the suits spoke up: `` What's done about the water that drains with the whales?''
**'' The meat-water slurry is drained into the level below, where it's carefully dried out via heating. The air is sucked into a condensation chamber, and the remaining water is purified and recycled. We yield roughly 96 % of the original water, requiring little re-filling. It's the most eco-friendly system on earth for our product. `` **
The suits ooh'd and ah'd as they applauded. The whales kept howling.
**'' Now, let's go see the drying process. `` **
They all shuffled out the other end of the room.
`` I always feel worst for the ones at the top,'' I told Hank. `` They do n't get usually stunned. And they get pushed into the blades.''
`` Yeah, I guess they have it the worst.''
By the time the chamber was half-way finished, all the water was red. Not so thick you could n't see through it, but definitely darker than a strong pink. The howling was starting to quiet down.
It was barely a minute before the tank was empty.
`` Resetting chamber.'' I pulled the last lever. The ceiling pulled back up to its place at the top of the tank, and hoses by the blades shot out air, stripping the thresher of leftovers. The chamber looked just as pristine as before.
`` I'm thinking of requesting a transfer into breeding,'' Hank said, readjusting all the levers. I sighed.
`` Water incoming.''
| <s>[INST] `` I 've never liked this part . '' [/INST] `` None of us do, Hank.''
A third voice came in.
`` Guys? Come one, get back to it. Break's in ten, keep it up.'' We nodded. The foreman walked out.
`` Water incoming.'' Hank pulled a lever. 20 million gallons of water came flooding into the chamber, 600,000 gallons a second. Last month, the hatch had malfunctioned- a single loose screw in the piping and it was n't watertight anymore. Water got into the wiring, and the maglock system failed. Hatch opened while maintenance was being done on the tank. 6 guys. No survivors. Hank said he'd heard from a guy close to the cleaning team that they'd been blown apart by the rush of water- like being hit by a train.
`` Second load incoming.'' Hank pulled another lever. The whales started tumbling out of hatches high in the chamber's ceiling.
The tank was n't completely full yet. We were supposed to let the water reach half-capacity, then dump the whales. This way, they hit the surface of the water and are stunned. If they're thrashing around too much, or even getting a chance to swim too freely, the whales coming in will just land on top of them and not sink quickly enough. They have to sink quickly or the whole chain gets backed up, all the way back to the breeding tanks. They screamed as they fell. A minute later, the tank was so full of whales they could hardly turn around.
`` It's the sound, I think,'' I said to Hank. `` Like, the wailing.''
`` You mean whaling?''
We both chuckled. Neither of us wanted to.
`` Thresher incoming,'' I said.
Last rotation, about three months ago, I got to leave the compound and head back home. I took my kid to a pet store. He asked me what work was like and I told him it was fine- not too different from his mother's work with elephants. He asked what it looked like, since we were n't allowed to take pictures. I showed him one of the fishtanks, the kind with all those guppies swimming about where they have no room, and they're just fucking and eating each other all day. Like that, but more guppies I said.
My hand was on the lever and I was about to pull, but Hank stopped me. `` Look.'' He pointed at the door. The foreman walked in, followed by a bunch of suits. Our backs straightened.
`` Here we have the grinding phase- looks like they're just about to process another batch! Gentlemen?''
`` Thresher incoming,'' I said again. I pulled the lever. You could n't see the blades, but you could hear them start turning underneath the floor. It was a really smooth sound, more like a fan than a jet engine. Still loud.
`` Grind incoming''
Hank and I grabbed two keys in the panel and turned them at the same time. The floor started opening up, exposing the blades of the thresher. The foreman started talking, his voice just beneath a shout so that the suits could hear him.
**'' As you can see, the floor of the chamber opens as an aperture to ensure even flow. The blades are actually one of the most expensive parts of the whole system. They're specially designed to slice extremely clean, minimizing froth so as to prevent waste, and ensuring the whales are killed humanely. `` **
`` Ceiling incoming,'' Hank said.
**'' Now, our state-of-the-art hydraulic system will push the ceiling down into the chamber, compressing every square inch of space. The ceiling is capable of exerting 4 million pounds of pressure at any given point- more than enough given how effective simply draining the chamber into the grind is, but far more efficient in terms of how many batches we can get per day. `` **
The first of the whales had sunk to the bottom. It was one-inch chunks surrounded by red mist in two seconds- you could hardly see the convulsing.
The one right after fell in tail first.
One of the suits spoke up: `` What's done about the water that drains with the whales?''
**'' The meat-water slurry is drained into the level below, where it's carefully dried out via heating. The air is sucked into a condensation chamber, and the remaining water is purified and recycled. We yield roughly 96 % of the original water, requiring little re-filling. It's the most eco-friendly system on earth for our product. `` **
The suits ooh'd and ah'd as they applauded. The whales kept howling.
**'' Now, let's go see the drying process. `` **
They all shuffled out the other end of the room.
`` I always feel worst for the ones at the top,'' I told Hank. `` They do n't get usually stunned. And they get pushed into the blades.''
`` Yeah, I guess they have it the worst.''
By the time the chamber was half-way finished, all the water was red. Not so thick you could n't see through it, but definitely darker than a strong pink. The howling was starting to quiet down.
It was barely a minute before the tank was empty.
`` Resetting chamber.'' I pulled the last lever. The ceiling pulled back up to its place at the top of the tank, and hoses by the blades shot out air, stripping the thresher of leftovers. The chamber looked just as pristine as before.
`` I'm thinking of requesting a transfer into breeding,'' Hank said, readjusting all the levers. I sighed.
`` Water incoming.''
</s> |
[ WP ] Your dog invites you to poker night at the dog park
| Its a chilly night, colder than normal. I've walked around this road so many times before, except it feels different this time around. The air is still and there is n't a car in sight. Not surprising considering the time of night.
He told me to meet him there this evening. `` Odd.'' I thought to myself. I've known for years I could communicate with Bruno, but he's never asked for me to go anywhere to `` meet'' him. `` Oh, well. We've been together for nearly 10 years since I rescued him from that drain pipe near the park. No reason not to trust him now.''
I continue my walk towards the park, thinking to myself the nature of the strange request. Bruno and I would always go to the park together to play. ALWAYS. Hardly a week went by where we did n't come here. It was home. For both of us. He'd tell me when he wanted to play and we'd walk over together and have the time of our lives together.
Approaching the park gate, I see that its locked. Not surprising considering its nearly midnight. Not really the type of time you bring you dog to the park. I hear a whisper in a low, gruff voice, `` keep walking along the fence.'' I ca n't tell where its coming from but its close. Its not Bruno's voice but it does n't sound like a human voice either. Something tells me to turn around and go home. `` No way'' I think to myself. This is my dog and I trust him. He wants me to play poker, and damnit, I'm playing poker.
I walk along the fence, albeit a bit more cautiously this time. After a minute, I see another gate. Not one I've used before but it leads into another park of the dog park for the bigger dogs. This one is unlocked and slightly ajar. A slight sense of apprehension overcomes me and I grab the handle. I pause, thinking the trust between a human and dog is as strong as you can find. `` Oh screw it. I trust my dog.''
A couple steps in, it looks just like the small dog park next door. Full of picnic tables, half chewed toys and empty water bowls. I relax slightly being in a familiar looking place and step toward one of the picnic tables to take a seat.
`` Hi Kevin.''
I turn around, stunned and frozen in place. It's Bruno. He's walking on his hind legs, holding his choke collar. He's not alone.
| <s>[INST] Your dog invites you to poker night at the dog park [/INST] Its a chilly night, colder than normal. I've walked around this road so many times before, except it feels different this time around. The air is still and there is n't a car in sight. Not surprising considering the time of night.
He told me to meet him there this evening. `` Odd.'' I thought to myself. I've known for years I could communicate with Bruno, but he's never asked for me to go anywhere to `` meet'' him. `` Oh, well. We've been together for nearly 10 years since I rescued him from that drain pipe near the park. No reason not to trust him now.''
I continue my walk towards the park, thinking to myself the nature of the strange request. Bruno and I would always go to the park together to play. ALWAYS. Hardly a week went by where we did n't come here. It was home. For both of us. He'd tell me when he wanted to play and we'd walk over together and have the time of our lives together.
Approaching the park gate, I see that its locked. Not surprising considering its nearly midnight. Not really the type of time you bring you dog to the park. I hear a whisper in a low, gruff voice, `` keep walking along the fence.'' I ca n't tell where its coming from but its close. Its not Bruno's voice but it does n't sound like a human voice either. Something tells me to turn around and go home. `` No way'' I think to myself. This is my dog and I trust him. He wants me to play poker, and damnit, I'm playing poker.
I walk along the fence, albeit a bit more cautiously this time. After a minute, I see another gate. Not one I've used before but it leads into another park of the dog park for the bigger dogs. This one is unlocked and slightly ajar. A slight sense of apprehension overcomes me and I grab the handle. I pause, thinking the trust between a human and dog is as strong as you can find. `` Oh screw it. I trust my dog.''
A couple steps in, it looks just like the small dog park next door. Full of picnic tables, half chewed toys and empty water bowls. I relax slightly being in a familiar looking place and step toward one of the picnic tables to take a seat.
`` Hi Kevin.''
I turn around, stunned and frozen in place. It's Bruno. He's walking on his hind legs, holding his choke collar. He's not alone.
</s> |
[ IP ] War Never Changes
| War. War always changes. Instruments of political violence is all he became, he could not leave his position, or so he claims.
No... No, he has to go fight, fight for the greater good, to `` protect the constitution'', there are enemies of the state lacking holes in there bodies. Is there such a thing, as an enemy? Is there an entity we are in everlasting hatred for, postmortem hatred? There is no such thing as an enemy.
The `` enemy'' have 3 children, a wife that missed them every time they have to rush out, some sort of sick Pavlov effect every time a balloon pops.
The enemy is you Shawn, and now I lay by your resting place, the still-warm shells are the last warmth I will ever feel from your embrace, and this feeling will haunt me for the rest of my life. The warmth, leaving my toes like a genie leaving a lamp, I am the lamp, and your death has left me lifeless.
With your Colt rested between my legs, all I can think about is joining you, some sort of stupid romantic shit. But I ca n't, for your leaving me and these children has made you the one thing you fought so hard against.
My enemy.
| <s>[INST] [ IP ] War Never Changes [/INST] War. War always changes. Instruments of political violence is all he became, he could not leave his position, or so he claims.
No... No, he has to go fight, fight for the greater good, to `` protect the constitution'', there are enemies of the state lacking holes in there bodies. Is there such a thing, as an enemy? Is there an entity we are in everlasting hatred for, postmortem hatred? There is no such thing as an enemy.
The `` enemy'' have 3 children, a wife that missed them every time they have to rush out, some sort of sick Pavlov effect every time a balloon pops.
The enemy is you Shawn, and now I lay by your resting place, the still-warm shells are the last warmth I will ever feel from your embrace, and this feeling will haunt me for the rest of my life. The warmth, leaving my toes like a genie leaving a lamp, I am the lamp, and your death has left me lifeless.
With your Colt rested between my legs, all I can think about is joining you, some sort of stupid romantic shit. But I ca n't, for your leaving me and these children has made you the one thing you fought so hard against.
My enemy.
</s> |
[ WP ] You 're a free Genie living in the real world and still discretely grant wishes when you hear them . Tell me what it 's like to be you .
| I'll tell you what it's like since i've been out of the magic lamp in one word.
Hell.
Jokes aside, someone seriously put me back in the lamp. I never thought I would be at this level of insanity, the kind that can put a genie back into his dark and excruciatingly lonesome cave of a lamp. I'd rather go insane alone than deal with the ridiculous, pointless wishes of the human race.
Usually in storybooks and Disney movies, a genie grants a total of 3 wishes for a certain individual in order to compensate the lamp rescue.
However, ladies and gentlemen, this is unfortunately not the case. I am forced to pick and choose which of your asinine wishes are worthy for the day, and forced to remain at my quota for each day.
Yes, being a genie is my job as well as my life. I am under constant supervision of my superior whom i've never even met, and I am unable to `` miss the quota'' as some idiots might say.
If I were to accidentally `` forget'' to grant just one wish, one wish is all it would take to be the difference between my current physical life and infinite nothingness.
All I can say, is that I really appreciate those few people who live their life JUST ENOUGH to wish for few things, instead of everything.
Oh, and the lottery is about to be mysteriously removed from the planet if I hear one more unemployed, lazy asshole wish to win the lottery. Get off the damn couch and get a job.
Even a genie works for a living.
| <s>[INST] You 're a free Genie living in the real world and still discretely grant wishes when you hear them . Tell me what it 's like to be you . [/INST] I'll tell you what it's like since i've been out of the magic lamp in one word.
Hell.
Jokes aside, someone seriously put me back in the lamp. I never thought I would be at this level of insanity, the kind that can put a genie back into his dark and excruciatingly lonesome cave of a lamp. I'd rather go insane alone than deal with the ridiculous, pointless wishes of the human race.
Usually in storybooks and Disney movies, a genie grants a total of 3 wishes for a certain individual in order to compensate the lamp rescue.
However, ladies and gentlemen, this is unfortunately not the case. I am forced to pick and choose which of your asinine wishes are worthy for the day, and forced to remain at my quota for each day.
Yes, being a genie is my job as well as my life. I am under constant supervision of my superior whom i've never even met, and I am unable to `` miss the quota'' as some idiots might say.
If I were to accidentally `` forget'' to grant just one wish, one wish is all it would take to be the difference between my current physical life and infinite nothingness.
All I can say, is that I really appreciate those few people who live their life JUST ENOUGH to wish for few things, instead of everything.
Oh, and the lottery is about to be mysteriously removed from the planet if I hear one more unemployed, lazy asshole wish to win the lottery. Get off the damn couch and get a job.
Even a genie works for a living.
</s> |
[ WP ] `` Nothing lasts forever . Not this tree , not those mountains , not this world ... and neither will you . Remember that , as you conquer the universe . ''
| english isnt my primary language, so excuses if i fuck up gramatically or use words wrong.
____________________________________________________________
I knew what was coming. Who was coming. I β ve known for a while now. I made my peace a long time ago, yet now the moment is so close I still feel anxious. I β ve got plenty of fond memories, plenty of regrets. I wouldn β t change any of the choices I made however β one should never want to change a choice they made to the best of their ability at the time. Yet I β ve still got a little time left. One last footnote in my story.
I know his face well. Once so innocent, his eyes full of wonder. Perhaps I should not have taken him in, not have taught him. My actions perhaps have doomed the lives of many. Perhaps they also saved many. No one knows what the future would bring - but ending. The one eternal law of existence. Or perhaps he will prove me wrong. He will see β I will not.
I rise from bed β old bones creaking, joint aching, muscles straining. Too old. Perhaps I lived too long. When you are young, time feels endless. As you grow older, you wish for more time to do what you always wanted, to fix your mistakes. Yet when you are truly old, you start to wonder whether you truly needed all that time. Whether what you sacrificed for it was truly worth it.
I walk to the door, like I have so many times. It does not go as easy as it once did. I walk the hallway β was I always out of breath when I reached the end? The boy sees me. Not a boy anymore, a man grown now, yet always a boy to me. My boy. I hide my weariness. He worries too much. He stands to help me. I hide my weariness β no need to trouble him over an old man. He helps me sit and I begin to talk.
I talk of many things. Of stars and supernova β s, of ants and men, of history and future. Victory and defeat. My greatest moments, my largest failures. He heard some of it before. Not all. Some shocks him, some scares him. Some bring him joy. I find myself shedding tears as I talk about my regrets. I tell of secrets that should never be spoken, knowledge perhaps better forgotten. Knowledge I thought was safe with me. I once believed I would last forever, that I could keep my universe safe forever.
It is a cruel thing perhaps, to force so much on someone so young, someone who never got a true choice. Perhaps I took him in for too selfish a reason. Perhaps the world will go on like normal when I am gone. Perhaps not. I can not be sure, but I must be. I wish I could stay longer, be there for him. I grow tired. I must at least tell him the last lesson, the same one I was taught but never truly learned.
β β remember β β I said, β β live your life like every moment matters. Nothing lasts forever. β
Did he learn? I do not know. I did not. I felt immortal at that age. A moment seemed so short. So pointless. I wish I used them better now. Did anyone learn at that age? Will he still need to learn or will his time truly not run out? There is so much I still wanted to do. Still wanted to say to people. Chances never taken. I see him cry. I do not like to see him sad.
I feel so tired. So empty. My soul feels so heavy, and yet, so light. The world grows dark β yet he still shines bright. I lie down. I find it hard to breathe. I have done all I need to. All I can do. I close my eyes for the very last time. I feel the darkness take me. Accept me as one of their own. As I slip at last into the sweet embrace of death, I think of him. Imperfect, yet he makes me feel so proud. The last thought on my mind:
Go forth and conquer your own universe.
| <s>[INST] `` Nothing lasts forever . Not this tree , not those mountains , not this world ... and neither will you . Remember that , as you conquer the universe . '' [/INST] english isnt my primary language, so excuses if i fuck up gramatically or use words wrong.
____________________________________________________________
I knew what was coming. Who was coming. I β ve known for a while now. I made my peace a long time ago, yet now the moment is so close I still feel anxious. I β ve got plenty of fond memories, plenty of regrets. I wouldn β t change any of the choices I made however β one should never want to change a choice they made to the best of their ability at the time. Yet I β ve still got a little time left. One last footnote in my story.
I know his face well. Once so innocent, his eyes full of wonder. Perhaps I should not have taken him in, not have taught him. My actions perhaps have doomed the lives of many. Perhaps they also saved many. No one knows what the future would bring - but ending. The one eternal law of existence. Or perhaps he will prove me wrong. He will see β I will not.
I rise from bed β old bones creaking, joint aching, muscles straining. Too old. Perhaps I lived too long. When you are young, time feels endless. As you grow older, you wish for more time to do what you always wanted, to fix your mistakes. Yet when you are truly old, you start to wonder whether you truly needed all that time. Whether what you sacrificed for it was truly worth it.
I walk to the door, like I have so many times. It does not go as easy as it once did. I walk the hallway β was I always out of breath when I reached the end? The boy sees me. Not a boy anymore, a man grown now, yet always a boy to me. My boy. I hide my weariness. He worries too much. He stands to help me. I hide my weariness β no need to trouble him over an old man. He helps me sit and I begin to talk.
I talk of many things. Of stars and supernova β s, of ants and men, of history and future. Victory and defeat. My greatest moments, my largest failures. He heard some of it before. Not all. Some shocks him, some scares him. Some bring him joy. I find myself shedding tears as I talk about my regrets. I tell of secrets that should never be spoken, knowledge perhaps better forgotten. Knowledge I thought was safe with me. I once believed I would last forever, that I could keep my universe safe forever.
It is a cruel thing perhaps, to force so much on someone so young, someone who never got a true choice. Perhaps I took him in for too selfish a reason. Perhaps the world will go on like normal when I am gone. Perhaps not. I can not be sure, but I must be. I wish I could stay longer, be there for him. I grow tired. I must at least tell him the last lesson, the same one I was taught but never truly learned.
β β remember β β I said, β β live your life like every moment matters. Nothing lasts forever. β
Did he learn? I do not know. I did not. I felt immortal at that age. A moment seemed so short. So pointless. I wish I used them better now. Did anyone learn at that age? Will he still need to learn or will his time truly not run out? There is so much I still wanted to do. Still wanted to say to people. Chances never taken. I see him cry. I do not like to see him sad.
I feel so tired. So empty. My soul feels so heavy, and yet, so light. The world grows dark β yet he still shines bright. I lie down. I find it hard to breathe. I have done all I need to. All I can do. I close my eyes for the very last time. I feel the darkness take me. Accept me as one of their own. As I slip at last into the sweet embrace of death, I think of him. Imperfect, yet he makes me feel so proud. The last thought on my mind:
Go forth and conquer your own universe.
</s> |
[ WP ] You are tasked with the job of stealing candy from the world 's most well protected baby .
| `` I've come to you because you're the best'' said Mr Kojitsu. We were travelling up to the penthouse suite of the awesome team HQ, otherwise known as AT. `` It's true, we are the best in the business'' I arrogantly said as the team leader of AT.
Mr Kojitsu was a big deal. He was the head of Sojuwa Corp, the biggest company of all time. I knew he had a big problem because I've only ever spoken to him on videophone before but in this case a phonecall would n't have sufficed.
When we reached the top, we took a seat on the balcony overlooking epica city, 200 floors up. We admired the view for a brief period but it quickly took a more serious turn. `` I need you to do a job for me'' Mr Kojitsu said breaking the silence. I clicked my fingers and my assistant came over with a notepad ready to take notes. `` You've heard of candy X, right?'' he said, with some trepidation. `` Sure... It's the most powerful treat of all time'' I said, following on with `` But it's just a myth... right?''. Mr Kojitsu proceeded to show me photos taken by a spy of a baby with the candy, the baby was none other than the dark overload Krons.
`` When the baby becomes of age, it'll eat the candy and become the most powerful villian of all time, we ca n't allow this.'' said Mr Kojitsu, who had spent a lifetime restoring the land of Japonia after the great Kron war. `` I need you to steal that candy from the baby''. `` No sweat, it'll be like taking candy from a baby!'' I knew Mr Kojitsu found that hillarious as he was the dad joke champion, but this was no time for joking.
`` Awesome Team assemble!''. Like the Ginyu Force, we had our poses and positions locked down tight. The team appeared one by one.
Richard Miller - The one man army, one pink gun, one blue.
Ping Pong Bros! - Former doubles ping pong world champions, that happen to be cats. They now fight crime. Bats are gold plated, can hit a ping pong ball as fast as a bullet.
AlphaGirl! - A master in every martial arts known to mankind. Single handidly took down the dictatorship of koreonona N.
Twinsen the ball master - Wears a magic blue cape, mastered the ancient art of throwing a ball as a weapon.
LORD OF STEEL! - This is me, saved the best until last. the leader of awesome team. With the Viking gear and an epic looking sword that can cut through anything known to man.
We assembled in formation. I made sure the assistant turned on the smoke machine and the back lightning. I could tell Mr Kojitsu was impressed. He said `` Go forth, Awesome Team, and retrieve that candy!''
Part 2 coming soon...
| <s>[INST] You are tasked with the job of stealing candy from the world 's most well protected baby . [/INST] `` I've come to you because you're the best'' said Mr Kojitsu. We were travelling up to the penthouse suite of the awesome team HQ, otherwise known as AT. `` It's true, we are the best in the business'' I arrogantly said as the team leader of AT.
Mr Kojitsu was a big deal. He was the head of Sojuwa Corp, the biggest company of all time. I knew he had a big problem because I've only ever spoken to him on videophone before but in this case a phonecall would n't have sufficed.
When we reached the top, we took a seat on the balcony overlooking epica city, 200 floors up. We admired the view for a brief period but it quickly took a more serious turn. `` I need you to do a job for me'' Mr Kojitsu said breaking the silence. I clicked my fingers and my assistant came over with a notepad ready to take notes. `` You've heard of candy X, right?'' he said, with some trepidation. `` Sure... It's the most powerful treat of all time'' I said, following on with `` But it's just a myth... right?''. Mr Kojitsu proceeded to show me photos taken by a spy of a baby with the candy, the baby was none other than the dark overload Krons.
`` When the baby becomes of age, it'll eat the candy and become the most powerful villian of all time, we ca n't allow this.'' said Mr Kojitsu, who had spent a lifetime restoring the land of Japonia after the great Kron war. `` I need you to steal that candy from the baby''. `` No sweat, it'll be like taking candy from a baby!'' I knew Mr Kojitsu found that hillarious as he was the dad joke champion, but this was no time for joking.
`` Awesome Team assemble!''. Like the Ginyu Force, we had our poses and positions locked down tight. The team appeared one by one.
Richard Miller - The one man army, one pink gun, one blue.
Ping Pong Bros! - Former doubles ping pong world champions, that happen to be cats. They now fight crime. Bats are gold plated, can hit a ping pong ball as fast as a bullet.
AlphaGirl! - A master in every martial arts known to mankind. Single handidly took down the dictatorship of koreonona N.
Twinsen the ball master - Wears a magic blue cape, mastered the ancient art of throwing a ball as a weapon.
LORD OF STEEL! - This is me, saved the best until last. the leader of awesome team. With the Viking gear and an epic looking sword that can cut through anything known to man.
We assembled in formation. I made sure the assistant turned on the smoke machine and the back lightning. I could tell Mr Kojitsu was impressed. He said `` Go forth, Awesome Team, and retrieve that candy!''
Part 2 coming soon...
</s> |
[ WP ] A nuclear post-apocalyptic Utopia
| The sky had remained blue. It had felt alien, when so much had changed - more alien than the titanic dark hexagon glistening beneath the summer sun far up in the cerulean void.
Gyyshk squinted at that patch of darkness in blue, a splinter of sarcasm and disbelief lodged deep into his brain and then turned his attention back to the dromul. The creature writhed in his hands as he inspected it, suction cups trying to pluck at the carbonit weave of the technologist's skin. The little bastard was healthy, and probably simulated illness to get a treat. Dromuls were notoriously clever, even a bit too much for Gyyshk's taste - lose concentration and they're flattening out to slip between the skin plates, running amok untill the systems hit the ammonia spray. Three ganglions stretched across their oblong bodies, multi-threading to allow them their sonar navigation through the salty soil - a wonderous production of Hader Biotech labs, almost ready to integrate into the wild.
Patting the dromul on its side, Gyyshk released it, watching the animal slink into the glassy surface of the test site, and then stood up. The enclosure door shuttered behind him and Gyyshk wandered out, to fully bask in the heat of the Caspian basin.
The population seemed healthy, and he breathed evenly as the data from the inspection sifted through his fingertips, molecules of tissue and secretion particles deploying into synthassemblers grafted to Gyyshk's heavily augmented nervous system. He could practically feel the protocol from today's inspection congeal into neatly layered research reports somewhere behind his frontal lobe as the scattered combi-brain implants began gigafying it to the closest lab servers.
Though the analytical trance, Gyyshk smelled a visitor.
`` How's the dromules?''
Uyygat was an archaist, it was evident even in his stench. With the DFC Consortium rolling out their new, cutting-edge visifiers, some - like Uyygat - had their teenage protest bloom into this silly retrocomm habit. Idly, Gyyshk wondered if the Zenerk Collective had some mirror form of such foolery... if they stopped their wild experiments with mycorize networks, and decided to, say, watch some television for a change. Well oh well, the War Eternal be praised - if the chief biochemist Uyygat wanted to *speak*, he would oblige.
With a cold hiss, Gyyshk's motorized faceplates vibrated, tensed on the thin miofibre stands, and then slid open, to reveal him smiling at his old friend. Uyygat's face had similarly shattered naked, and the chalky whitness of his skin glistened in harmonized synchornicity with the alabaster globules of the Hader Labs complex behind him, their forms hazing and pulsing from the day's heat.
`` Two weeks old and already hunting'', Gyyshk beamed, gripping his friend's outstretched hand. His head snapped to the enclosure. `` Not entirely successful, but they'll be a good pred for the system''.
`` You guys are sure keeping it up. Giving the zenerk a run for their money - and they got the Amazonian sinks to work with... Met Juuk the other day at the veear pools, she was so unpatriotically raving about their work'', Something sly and dark passed in the shade of Uyygat's face. `` If it was n't the p-phase, she would've gotten the needle, heh''.
Gyyshk waved his hand dismissively. For the Venerxt, biomolding and genefacturing had always took a backseat to their robotics and augmentation specialities, as well as cityscaping, and so everyone in the field, him included, always felt a bit too protective of their work in Europe and the Middle East. After all, they themselves were a testament to the venerxt chops concerning those technlogies.
`` Root-huggers, eh'', Gyyshk dusted his legs off. His transmitters were beating a frantic stacatto around Uyygat's infospace, but all he could pick up was basic vitality data and public stim-net outpourings about what he had for breakfast. The technologist grimaced slightly. Archaism was getting *old*, and he hated the pun. `` Who cares. P-phase ends in like, 10 years. By that time we'll have a stable ecosystem here...''
Further accentuating the point, Gyyshk punched his friend's side slightly - hand mostly bare, talons tucked in.
`` With none of *your* help, obviously. Seriously, Uyyg, it's ten in the morning, are n't you supposed to be slaving away somewhere in Lab C with your stunted, glitchy Springsilence neuropal, on some useless DNA mockup that a zenerk could shit out in his half-brain sleep?''
Uyygat looked hurt - the golden glow of printed optics inside his iris dulled in mock sadness. He motioned Gyyshk to stroll with him, and the two men left the test zone. Stepping onto a narrow concrete path, they moved towards the lab complex, and Gyyshk basked in the bleak, roiling sun, the carbonit scales of his smart-skin synching and splaying upwards to dissipate the heat.
`` Ah, Gyyshk, the person with an audacity to insult an AI. Tell me again, how did you even graduate?''
`` They were smitten by my looks, of course. The rugged charm of a w-phase veteran, the mighty glial fusions on my combi axons, the scars?''
This time, Uyygat laughed. The technologist, for all his introversion, was good with linguistics - and he enjoyed it with people nowadays.
`` That's why I'm here. Thought that we could take a jet to Dubai some evening, hit the arcologies. You know the routine - substances, stim-net, maybe a few zenerk females to make things lethal enough to upload a backup?''
Gyyshk knew. He knew precisely the substance - the black, tar-like ooze coiled in his stomach, infiltrating the systems, pumping the interweaving flesh and augs, the thought-broadcasts and gigafy streams with an insatiable urge. It was always within him, dissolving into an aerosol poison with every burst of pheromones and breath, interlocking them within an evolving, inevitable solution.
Ten years until the end of p-phase. With their current lifespans, it was, in all honestly, a flicker. Everyone felt the taste of the *W* on the tips of their tongues and fingers, earning to blossom beautifully and violently in a symphony of overclocked adrenal glands.
| <s>[INST] A nuclear post-apocalyptic Utopia [/INST] The sky had remained blue. It had felt alien, when so much had changed - more alien than the titanic dark hexagon glistening beneath the summer sun far up in the cerulean void.
Gyyshk squinted at that patch of darkness in blue, a splinter of sarcasm and disbelief lodged deep into his brain and then turned his attention back to the dromul. The creature writhed in his hands as he inspected it, suction cups trying to pluck at the carbonit weave of the technologist's skin. The little bastard was healthy, and probably simulated illness to get a treat. Dromuls were notoriously clever, even a bit too much for Gyyshk's taste - lose concentration and they're flattening out to slip between the skin plates, running amok untill the systems hit the ammonia spray. Three ganglions stretched across their oblong bodies, multi-threading to allow them their sonar navigation through the salty soil - a wonderous production of Hader Biotech labs, almost ready to integrate into the wild.
Patting the dromul on its side, Gyyshk released it, watching the animal slink into the glassy surface of the test site, and then stood up. The enclosure door shuttered behind him and Gyyshk wandered out, to fully bask in the heat of the Caspian basin.
The population seemed healthy, and he breathed evenly as the data from the inspection sifted through his fingertips, molecules of tissue and secretion particles deploying into synthassemblers grafted to Gyyshk's heavily augmented nervous system. He could practically feel the protocol from today's inspection congeal into neatly layered research reports somewhere behind his frontal lobe as the scattered combi-brain implants began gigafying it to the closest lab servers.
Though the analytical trance, Gyyshk smelled a visitor.
`` How's the dromules?''
Uyygat was an archaist, it was evident even in his stench. With the DFC Consortium rolling out their new, cutting-edge visifiers, some - like Uyygat - had their teenage protest bloom into this silly retrocomm habit. Idly, Gyyshk wondered if the Zenerk Collective had some mirror form of such foolery... if they stopped their wild experiments with mycorize networks, and decided to, say, watch some television for a change. Well oh well, the War Eternal be praised - if the chief biochemist Uyygat wanted to *speak*, he would oblige.
With a cold hiss, Gyyshk's motorized faceplates vibrated, tensed on the thin miofibre stands, and then slid open, to reveal him smiling at his old friend. Uyygat's face had similarly shattered naked, and the chalky whitness of his skin glistened in harmonized synchornicity with the alabaster globules of the Hader Labs complex behind him, their forms hazing and pulsing from the day's heat.
`` Two weeks old and already hunting'', Gyyshk beamed, gripping his friend's outstretched hand. His head snapped to the enclosure. `` Not entirely successful, but they'll be a good pred for the system''.
`` You guys are sure keeping it up. Giving the zenerk a run for their money - and they got the Amazonian sinks to work with... Met Juuk the other day at the veear pools, she was so unpatriotically raving about their work'', Something sly and dark passed in the shade of Uyygat's face. `` If it was n't the p-phase, she would've gotten the needle, heh''.
Gyyshk waved his hand dismissively. For the Venerxt, biomolding and genefacturing had always took a backseat to their robotics and augmentation specialities, as well as cityscaping, and so everyone in the field, him included, always felt a bit too protective of their work in Europe and the Middle East. After all, they themselves were a testament to the venerxt chops concerning those technlogies.
`` Root-huggers, eh'', Gyyshk dusted his legs off. His transmitters were beating a frantic stacatto around Uyygat's infospace, but all he could pick up was basic vitality data and public stim-net outpourings about what he had for breakfast. The technologist grimaced slightly. Archaism was getting *old*, and he hated the pun. `` Who cares. P-phase ends in like, 10 years. By that time we'll have a stable ecosystem here...''
Further accentuating the point, Gyyshk punched his friend's side slightly - hand mostly bare, talons tucked in.
`` With none of *your* help, obviously. Seriously, Uyyg, it's ten in the morning, are n't you supposed to be slaving away somewhere in Lab C with your stunted, glitchy Springsilence neuropal, on some useless DNA mockup that a zenerk could shit out in his half-brain sleep?''
Uyygat looked hurt - the golden glow of printed optics inside his iris dulled in mock sadness. He motioned Gyyshk to stroll with him, and the two men left the test zone. Stepping onto a narrow concrete path, they moved towards the lab complex, and Gyyshk basked in the bleak, roiling sun, the carbonit scales of his smart-skin synching and splaying upwards to dissipate the heat.
`` Ah, Gyyshk, the person with an audacity to insult an AI. Tell me again, how did you even graduate?''
`` They were smitten by my looks, of course. The rugged charm of a w-phase veteran, the mighty glial fusions on my combi axons, the scars?''
This time, Uyygat laughed. The technologist, for all his introversion, was good with linguistics - and he enjoyed it with people nowadays.
`` That's why I'm here. Thought that we could take a jet to Dubai some evening, hit the arcologies. You know the routine - substances, stim-net, maybe a few zenerk females to make things lethal enough to upload a backup?''
Gyyshk knew. He knew precisely the substance - the black, tar-like ooze coiled in his stomach, infiltrating the systems, pumping the interweaving flesh and augs, the thought-broadcasts and gigafy streams with an insatiable urge. It was always within him, dissolving into an aerosol poison with every burst of pheromones and breath, interlocking them within an evolving, inevitable solution.
Ten years until the end of p-phase. With their current lifespans, it was, in all honestly, a flicker. Everyone felt the taste of the *W* on the tips of their tongues and fingers, earning to blossom beautifully and violently in a symphony of overclocked adrenal glands.
</s> |
[ WP ] Souls do exist , and are in fact very easy to measure and detect . Humans just do n't have souls .
| `` Perhaps...... perhaps we made a mistake?'' I asked tentatively as the'doctor' for that was the only word I could use to describe the being before me politely pacing around the office. They seemed deep in thought about something but I chose not to ask what.
The'doctor' briefly glanced in my direction with those eyes of his before scoffing `` Nonsence! They needed to know better now than slowly trickling the information to them over years with their scientists trying to disprove it and their religions all denying it fools the lot of them!'' He made a grand sweeping gesture around the room before motioning to me with that twinkle in his eyes that bordered on cruelty `` You and I, we gave them the means with which to see and they can never unsee it, never deny it and they never will! A gas which makes viewing the soul possible! To see, to feel it's presence and the fact that the effects are permanent makes it all the better.''
The sick bastard was enjoying this it made me want to be sick but I held it in, showing weakness in front of one such as this was a bad idea. Why had I agreed to this? What possessed me to think that this was a good idea?
While these thoughts plagued my mind'it' continued `` Is it not amusing though millennia of evolution and that which rules the planet is not even able to truly associate with it in any way? To truly feel at peace? To feel like they belong! A mistake a one a billion miscalculation or wrong judgement and the one thing that they told themselves heheheheehahHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAA..*pants*..that... heheh..they were....hahahaha... one of a kind. That they were special, OH it's too rich!'' He shook his head as his body stopped shaking wiping away a tear of malicious mirth from'its' eyes.
I should n't have helped him. I really should n't have done it. It was a mistake that was making itself far more known to me than ever before. I tried to distract myself from his ramblings by taking a drink from the cooler in the corner all the while he continued to rant about all of this.
As I finished pouring the contents into the plastic cup and took a sip'it' had calmed down some and glanced over at me lazily. That was perhaps the scariest thing in all honesty about the'doctor' the range of emotions but something was off about the way he was looking at me now `` But you know, they're gon na want more answers eventually...'' A dark grin was forming on his face as he continued `` Humanity has this thing about wanting what we ca n't have... what we lack...''
I was begining to feel a bit hot the words he was stringing together not making much sense to me anymore as the room began to warp and bend I toppled over onto my back staring up at the ceiling. The'doctor' walked into my field of vision as it began to go dark....I wish he had n't, I really do. The look in'its' eyes was hungry and then it spoke one last time before all faded to nothing `` You'll be `` helping'' us again dear friend....just....in a how shall we say a more hands on demonstration of the soul...''
I.....should n't...... have.....trusted....Humans.
| <s>[INST] Souls do exist , and are in fact very easy to measure and detect . Humans just do n't have souls . [/INST] `` Perhaps...... perhaps we made a mistake?'' I asked tentatively as the'doctor' for that was the only word I could use to describe the being before me politely pacing around the office. They seemed deep in thought about something but I chose not to ask what.
The'doctor' briefly glanced in my direction with those eyes of his before scoffing `` Nonsence! They needed to know better now than slowly trickling the information to them over years with their scientists trying to disprove it and their religions all denying it fools the lot of them!'' He made a grand sweeping gesture around the room before motioning to me with that twinkle in his eyes that bordered on cruelty `` You and I, we gave them the means with which to see and they can never unsee it, never deny it and they never will! A gas which makes viewing the soul possible! To see, to feel it's presence and the fact that the effects are permanent makes it all the better.''
The sick bastard was enjoying this it made me want to be sick but I held it in, showing weakness in front of one such as this was a bad idea. Why had I agreed to this? What possessed me to think that this was a good idea?
While these thoughts plagued my mind'it' continued `` Is it not amusing though millennia of evolution and that which rules the planet is not even able to truly associate with it in any way? To truly feel at peace? To feel like they belong! A mistake a one a billion miscalculation or wrong judgement and the one thing that they told themselves heheheheehahHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAA..*pants*..that... heheh..they were....hahahaha... one of a kind. That they were special, OH it's too rich!'' He shook his head as his body stopped shaking wiping away a tear of malicious mirth from'its' eyes.
I should n't have helped him. I really should n't have done it. It was a mistake that was making itself far more known to me than ever before. I tried to distract myself from his ramblings by taking a drink from the cooler in the corner all the while he continued to rant about all of this.
As I finished pouring the contents into the plastic cup and took a sip'it' had calmed down some and glanced over at me lazily. That was perhaps the scariest thing in all honesty about the'doctor' the range of emotions but something was off about the way he was looking at me now `` But you know, they're gon na want more answers eventually...'' A dark grin was forming on his face as he continued `` Humanity has this thing about wanting what we ca n't have... what we lack...''
I was begining to feel a bit hot the words he was stringing together not making much sense to me anymore as the room began to warp and bend I toppled over onto my back staring up at the ceiling. The'doctor' walked into my field of vision as it began to go dark....I wish he had n't, I really do. The look in'its' eyes was hungry and then it spoke one last time before all faded to nothing `` You'll be `` helping'' us again dear friend....just....in a how shall we say a more hands on demonstration of the soul...''
I.....should n't...... have.....trusted....Humans.
</s> |
[ WP ] A man living by a cliff has prevented 160 suicides over his fifty years of living there , by striking up a conversation with people contemplating suicide . And then killing them himself .
| `` Look, I know it seems like the only way out, but trust me, it is n't worth it.'' Albert said as he tried to talk the young woman away from the edge.
`` What do you know? You have no idea how hard my life is, so fuck off!'' Melissa snapped at him.
She had been contemplating suicide for some time after her husband ran off with another woman, unable to work because of the pregnancy that forced him into the marriage just 4 months prior. Unable to work and lacking any family to support her, she lost her home and had nowhere to go, and after losing a steady food supply, had a miscarriage. Everything seemed to be caving in on her.
`` How long have you been homeless?'' Albert asked, able to tell because of her obviously dirty and ragged clothing.
`` About two weeks now. I had an interview lined up for last week at a gas station, but since I could n't shower and smelled like the devil's asshole they would n't hire me.'' Melissa turned away from the cliff to talk to him, for some reason this man's understanding calmed her, and she started to reconsider.
`` Well, that's definitely rough. Say, I may just have a solution for you! I need someone to help clean up around my house. I would have you clean twice a week, fifty bucks each time you do. I know it's not much, so I can offer you a place to stay until you get back on your feet, but only if you promise that you are going to.'' Albert had a very kind and gentle voice, and was considered by many to be a pillar of the community with an almost problematic dedication to helping those in need.
`` Oh my fuck, would you really? Thank you so much, mister, you are so generous, I promise I will do a good job!'' Melissa was ecstatic to say the least.
`` One thing though, sir, I believe that we have n't formally met yet. I'm Melissa. It's so great to meet you.''
Albert smirked. This was going to be too easy. She was still standing so close to the edge.
`` Nice to meet you, Melissa, I may as well be the fucking Grim Reaper for all it matters to you.'' He said, while instead of shaking her hand, he leaned slightly forward and gave a hard thrust with both hands into Melissa's shoulders, pushing her just enough to knock her off the edge. Her face was reflecting total and utter confusion, followed by screams of terror as she realized what was happening.
`` For fuck's sake, she did n't have to scream, it's what she wanted.'' Albert returned to his home, waiting patiently to save yet another damaged soul.
| <s>[INST] A man living by a cliff has prevented 160 suicides over his fifty years of living there , by striking up a conversation with people contemplating suicide . And then killing them himself . [/INST] `` Look, I know it seems like the only way out, but trust me, it is n't worth it.'' Albert said as he tried to talk the young woman away from the edge.
`` What do you know? You have no idea how hard my life is, so fuck off!'' Melissa snapped at him.
She had been contemplating suicide for some time after her husband ran off with another woman, unable to work because of the pregnancy that forced him into the marriage just 4 months prior. Unable to work and lacking any family to support her, she lost her home and had nowhere to go, and after losing a steady food supply, had a miscarriage. Everything seemed to be caving in on her.
`` How long have you been homeless?'' Albert asked, able to tell because of her obviously dirty and ragged clothing.
`` About two weeks now. I had an interview lined up for last week at a gas station, but since I could n't shower and smelled like the devil's asshole they would n't hire me.'' Melissa turned away from the cliff to talk to him, for some reason this man's understanding calmed her, and she started to reconsider.
`` Well, that's definitely rough. Say, I may just have a solution for you! I need someone to help clean up around my house. I would have you clean twice a week, fifty bucks each time you do. I know it's not much, so I can offer you a place to stay until you get back on your feet, but only if you promise that you are going to.'' Albert had a very kind and gentle voice, and was considered by many to be a pillar of the community with an almost problematic dedication to helping those in need.
`` Oh my fuck, would you really? Thank you so much, mister, you are so generous, I promise I will do a good job!'' Melissa was ecstatic to say the least.
`` One thing though, sir, I believe that we have n't formally met yet. I'm Melissa. It's so great to meet you.''
Albert smirked. This was going to be too easy. She was still standing so close to the edge.
`` Nice to meet you, Melissa, I may as well be the fucking Grim Reaper for all it matters to you.'' He said, while instead of shaking her hand, he leaned slightly forward and gave a hard thrust with both hands into Melissa's shoulders, pushing her just enough to knock her off the edge. Her face was reflecting total and utter confusion, followed by screams of terror as she realized what was happening.
`` For fuck's sake, she did n't have to scream, it's what she wanted.'' Albert returned to his home, waiting patiently to save yet another damaged soul.
</s> |
[ WP ] Suddenly across the globe , large , feathered , rotted corpses begin to drop out of the sky . They are soon identified to be Angels .
| Perpetual darkness. The dark grey clouds overhead were heavy with rain, a storm looming ever near. Yet no rain fell. The skies have been this way for so many years people have lost count. The sun is almost forgotten, a fable told to children. Chaos grew and has thrived in the lights absence. Men have gone mad with power, and unfounded anger flowed through their veins. The world was dying and all was well in the minds of the powerful.
All of the lands burned and none seemed to care, they just wanted war. Rowan found himself at the front line of an army he did n't follow, a leader he knew not, yet there he stood. Across the empty field the opposing force gathered their strength before the charge. A brown and white blur darted across his view, a man shouting orders on horseback, waving a flag Rowan did n't know. The rider turned toward the challengers and raised his sword, `` Forward! Death! Chaos!''
The men around Rowan lurched forward and he followed. His shield was suddenly too heavy to carry and he fumbled with it, but it had been hammered around his hand so it could n't be removed. His sword had been melted into his gauntlet to keep it from being dropped. He continued forward. The rider sprinted ahead yelling words and swinging his mace around his head, it almost sounded like he was laughing. The rider met the solid wall of the enemy and was felled without pause as the two sides continued.
The two walls met with a loud clap and men began to fight. The man to Rowan's left had his head separated before he could swing. He caught a glimpse of the lifeless eyes as the head rolled towards him. What light came from above was suddenly darkened by a hail of arrows. The shield took them all but he could feel the weapons pierce through to his arm. The pain was horrendous, but the enemy in front pushed on. He blocked a swing and ran through an enemy as an ally leaped over his back and slammed his own shield down onto a head, crushing it. The sound made him want to vomit. He knelt down and heaved as a dark shadow came over him. A laughing man dressed in all black and brown stood over Rowan laughing crazily. His eyes were bloodshot and he had dark rings of sleep under his eyes. He raised his axe and and laughed again.
A loud blast from a trumpet broke the field. The man fell to his knees screaming, Rowan did as well. He tried to cover his ears but he could n't reach. Men all around shrieked and screamed in pain, their ears all bleeding. The trumpet blasted again, its sound ripped over the men knocking them down flat. Again, again, again it roared above them. Six times it blasted, then silence.
The clouds shook and rumbled with thunder as it began to rain, the rain was large and heavy but fell slow, as if being held aloft by hands. Rowan's eyes we wet with tears but it looked so beautiful. The rain fell closer until it landed softly on the ground, the rain was not water but bodies, hundreds and hundreds of bodies. The sky lightened for a moment and Rowan crawled to the nearest. It had what used to be white feathered wings sprouting from its back, now blackened by smoke. The face was frozen in a look of shock and dread. Its body was covered in gashes and fresh cuts, but many more scars showed.
The trumpet blasted once more and all of the bodies turned to ash blowing away in the wind. Rowan looked up to see the clouds growing thick and darker than ever before. The clouds lowered towards them and it was only now that he could see them for what they were. Dark wings and dark bodies bound together tightly by silver rope. The clouds lowered to the ground and hovered for a moment. Men stood and some approached, some cried and some ran, but it mattered not for the rope broke and the beings erupted forward. Rowan tried to raise his shield but he was knocked over by one. It stood on his chest and began pointing towards the sky, speaking a language he did n't know. Then it looked down at him, its eyes were red flames and just the sight made Rowan's armor burst into flame. The being stood still, watching the human melt and roast. The screams were *beautiful*. It walked forward smiling, behind it the light dimmed and faded until there was nothing left but the darkness.
| <s>[INST] Suddenly across the globe , large , feathered , rotted corpses begin to drop out of the sky . They are soon identified to be Angels . [/INST] Perpetual darkness. The dark grey clouds overhead were heavy with rain, a storm looming ever near. Yet no rain fell. The skies have been this way for so many years people have lost count. The sun is almost forgotten, a fable told to children. Chaos grew and has thrived in the lights absence. Men have gone mad with power, and unfounded anger flowed through their veins. The world was dying and all was well in the minds of the powerful.
All of the lands burned and none seemed to care, they just wanted war. Rowan found himself at the front line of an army he did n't follow, a leader he knew not, yet there he stood. Across the empty field the opposing force gathered their strength before the charge. A brown and white blur darted across his view, a man shouting orders on horseback, waving a flag Rowan did n't know. The rider turned toward the challengers and raised his sword, `` Forward! Death! Chaos!''
The men around Rowan lurched forward and he followed. His shield was suddenly too heavy to carry and he fumbled with it, but it had been hammered around his hand so it could n't be removed. His sword had been melted into his gauntlet to keep it from being dropped. He continued forward. The rider sprinted ahead yelling words and swinging his mace around his head, it almost sounded like he was laughing. The rider met the solid wall of the enemy and was felled without pause as the two sides continued.
The two walls met with a loud clap and men began to fight. The man to Rowan's left had his head separated before he could swing. He caught a glimpse of the lifeless eyes as the head rolled towards him. What light came from above was suddenly darkened by a hail of arrows. The shield took them all but he could feel the weapons pierce through to his arm. The pain was horrendous, but the enemy in front pushed on. He blocked a swing and ran through an enemy as an ally leaped over his back and slammed his own shield down onto a head, crushing it. The sound made him want to vomit. He knelt down and heaved as a dark shadow came over him. A laughing man dressed in all black and brown stood over Rowan laughing crazily. His eyes were bloodshot and he had dark rings of sleep under his eyes. He raised his axe and and laughed again.
A loud blast from a trumpet broke the field. The man fell to his knees screaming, Rowan did as well. He tried to cover his ears but he could n't reach. Men all around shrieked and screamed in pain, their ears all bleeding. The trumpet blasted again, its sound ripped over the men knocking them down flat. Again, again, again it roared above them. Six times it blasted, then silence.
The clouds shook and rumbled with thunder as it began to rain, the rain was large and heavy but fell slow, as if being held aloft by hands. Rowan's eyes we wet with tears but it looked so beautiful. The rain fell closer until it landed softly on the ground, the rain was not water but bodies, hundreds and hundreds of bodies. The sky lightened for a moment and Rowan crawled to the nearest. It had what used to be white feathered wings sprouting from its back, now blackened by smoke. The face was frozen in a look of shock and dread. Its body was covered in gashes and fresh cuts, but many more scars showed.
The trumpet blasted once more and all of the bodies turned to ash blowing away in the wind. Rowan looked up to see the clouds growing thick and darker than ever before. The clouds lowered towards them and it was only now that he could see them for what they were. Dark wings and dark bodies bound together tightly by silver rope. The clouds lowered to the ground and hovered for a moment. Men stood and some approached, some cried and some ran, but it mattered not for the rope broke and the beings erupted forward. Rowan tried to raise his shield but he was knocked over by one. It stood on his chest and began pointing towards the sky, speaking a language he did n't know. Then it looked down at him, its eyes were red flames and just the sight made Rowan's armor burst into flame. The being stood still, watching the human melt and roast. The screams were *beautiful*. It walked forward smiling, behind it the light dimmed and faded until there was nothing left but the darkness.
</s> |
[ WP ] It is illegal to speak more than one language . You speak five ...
| I live a very difficult life. The life of a polyglot, that is, one who speaks multiple languages. The law dictates that a single language is enough for a single person. It is based on the misguided belief that to speak a second language, one must invite a demon within themselves, for the human mind ca n't handle more than one language. I know that this is a lie, that my mind remains my own. I also know that it is very tiring to maintain five separate lives, all in secret from each other, and the government.
I stroll down the street, and see Vladimir walking the other way. I slip into the Russian mindset. We stop next to each other.
`` Π·Π΄ΡΠ°Π²ΡΡΠ²ΡΠΉΡΠ΅ Π²ΠΎΠ»ΠΎΠ΄Ρ'' I say, eager to carry on. I have work in a short while, and I ca n't let Vlad hold me up for too long. He greets me in return, and we chat briefly, but I glance at my watch, and tell him that I really need to go now. We say our goodbyes, and I rush to work. Ahh, time for the French to come out.
Most of my co-workers are French. Due to language problems, you tend not to see too many people work in a place who do n't speak the owners language. I get to my desk, and to my delight, I see Jean already there. He's a bilingual. I caught him talking German to some strangers once. After that, I learned the language myself, and we became great friends. I look around, cautiously, and go over to him.
`` Guten Tag, Jean.'' He smiles back at me, and perhaps somewhat wisely, he replies in French.
`` Bonjour, Γ§a va?''
`` Γa va bien, merci. Et toi?''
And so on. We banter as we work, and afterwards, we leave together, and go to a German bar. I think that they serve the best beers, and that's based on five different nationality's bars. I love coming here with Jean. It's always a great night. Well, almost always. Tonight, for some reason, a few Russians decided to come here. Maybe to start a fight, maybe just to drink. I do n't know. What I do know, is that Vladimir is the one at the front of the group. As I turn to look at the group, we recognise each other.
Unthinking, I let out the first swear that comes to mind. `` Shit.'' Well, now I've completely screwed myself. Sure, Jean knew that I spoke English, but everyone else in the pub nearly dropped their beer, and the Russians did a double take, especially Vlad. He looked wounded, as if he could n't believe that I would break the law, and not trust him enough to tell him. My life is falling to pieces. I stand up, and walk to the door, quietly.
The second the door is closed behind me, I run. I run to the place I go when I'm in trouble. The church. I walk in, sweat dripping from my brow, the smell of German beer on my breath. I walk past everyone else in the church, and sit in the second row, collecting myself. I kneel down, and begin to pray in Latin, the language of the church. I pray fervently, hoping, beyond hope, that I had n't been reported, that Vladimir would forgive me, and above all that I would remain safe.
I knew that such a selfish prayer would fall upon deaf ears, the only ears that God would spare for such a selfish prayer. Yet still I prayed. I was still praying when the government official walked in, and sat next to me.
`` I may not understand what you're saying, but I know that you understand me. Listen to me very carefully, but do n't let anyone else here know what I'm saying. Would n't want these religious types to believe you possessed by a demon now would we?''
He's talking as if to himself, but his words can be directed at none other than me. I continue my prayers, only half paying attention to them. He has the rest of my focus.
`` Contrary to popular belief, we do n't punish polyglots, we employ them. Those who are more willing to break the rules are more useful to us. Those who have the capacity to learn multiple languages, have the capacity to better lead us. If my observations today are correct, you can speak five different languages, and that makes you one of the smartest men on the planet, and one of the most useful. You could go far. Of course, if you do n't want to work for use, then I'm sure that you'll find prison very much to your liking. I'm going to be waiting for you just outside, and I want a'yes' or a'no'. Will you work for us? Your choice.''
He gets up, and walks out. I stay for a short while, but my choice is no choice at all. I get up, and walk out after him. He's leaning against the door, smoking. I see the gun on his belt. I swallow. He looks at me, a hand going to his gun. I clear my throat, even though I do n't really need to. I look him in the eyes.
`` I'll do it.''
| <s>[INST] It is illegal to speak more than one language . You speak five ... [/INST] I live a very difficult life. The life of a polyglot, that is, one who speaks multiple languages. The law dictates that a single language is enough for a single person. It is based on the misguided belief that to speak a second language, one must invite a demon within themselves, for the human mind ca n't handle more than one language. I know that this is a lie, that my mind remains my own. I also know that it is very tiring to maintain five separate lives, all in secret from each other, and the government.
I stroll down the street, and see Vladimir walking the other way. I slip into the Russian mindset. We stop next to each other.
`` Π·Π΄ΡΠ°Π²ΡΡΠ²ΡΠΉΡΠ΅ Π²ΠΎΠ»ΠΎΠ΄Ρ'' I say, eager to carry on. I have work in a short while, and I ca n't let Vlad hold me up for too long. He greets me in return, and we chat briefly, but I glance at my watch, and tell him that I really need to go now. We say our goodbyes, and I rush to work. Ahh, time for the French to come out.
Most of my co-workers are French. Due to language problems, you tend not to see too many people work in a place who do n't speak the owners language. I get to my desk, and to my delight, I see Jean already there. He's a bilingual. I caught him talking German to some strangers once. After that, I learned the language myself, and we became great friends. I look around, cautiously, and go over to him.
`` Guten Tag, Jean.'' He smiles back at me, and perhaps somewhat wisely, he replies in French.
`` Bonjour, Γ§a va?''
`` Γa va bien, merci. Et toi?''
And so on. We banter as we work, and afterwards, we leave together, and go to a German bar. I think that they serve the best beers, and that's based on five different nationality's bars. I love coming here with Jean. It's always a great night. Well, almost always. Tonight, for some reason, a few Russians decided to come here. Maybe to start a fight, maybe just to drink. I do n't know. What I do know, is that Vladimir is the one at the front of the group. As I turn to look at the group, we recognise each other.
Unthinking, I let out the first swear that comes to mind. `` Shit.'' Well, now I've completely screwed myself. Sure, Jean knew that I spoke English, but everyone else in the pub nearly dropped their beer, and the Russians did a double take, especially Vlad. He looked wounded, as if he could n't believe that I would break the law, and not trust him enough to tell him. My life is falling to pieces. I stand up, and walk to the door, quietly.
The second the door is closed behind me, I run. I run to the place I go when I'm in trouble. The church. I walk in, sweat dripping from my brow, the smell of German beer on my breath. I walk past everyone else in the church, and sit in the second row, collecting myself. I kneel down, and begin to pray in Latin, the language of the church. I pray fervently, hoping, beyond hope, that I had n't been reported, that Vladimir would forgive me, and above all that I would remain safe.
I knew that such a selfish prayer would fall upon deaf ears, the only ears that God would spare for such a selfish prayer. Yet still I prayed. I was still praying when the government official walked in, and sat next to me.
`` I may not understand what you're saying, but I know that you understand me. Listen to me very carefully, but do n't let anyone else here know what I'm saying. Would n't want these religious types to believe you possessed by a demon now would we?''
He's talking as if to himself, but his words can be directed at none other than me. I continue my prayers, only half paying attention to them. He has the rest of my focus.
`` Contrary to popular belief, we do n't punish polyglots, we employ them. Those who are more willing to break the rules are more useful to us. Those who have the capacity to learn multiple languages, have the capacity to better lead us. If my observations today are correct, you can speak five different languages, and that makes you one of the smartest men on the planet, and one of the most useful. You could go far. Of course, if you do n't want to work for use, then I'm sure that you'll find prison very much to your liking. I'm going to be waiting for you just outside, and I want a'yes' or a'no'. Will you work for us? Your choice.''
He gets up, and walks out. I stay for a short while, but my choice is no choice at all. I get up, and walk out after him. He's leaning against the door, smoking. I see the gun on his belt. I swallow. He looks at me, a hand going to his gun. I clear my throat, even though I do n't really need to. I look him in the eyes.
`` I'll do it.''
</s> |
[ WP ] At age 18 , everyone is given a manual explaining how to live a long and happy life . However , yours is telling you to do some pretty unusual things .
| I think I may have punched myself in the face too hard, but the instructions were not specific. That's the problem with this book - it does n't explain anything well.
I've been pacing myself in reading it since my eighteenth birthday last month. There are only about a hundred suggestions or so and I do n't want to burn through them too fast. Not that there's a guide on how often your supposed to read and follow through with the actions. If I had n't been raised to revere this book, I might have begun to doubt it's merits. I think my nose is broken, although I'm not sure if that was a result of running into a tree full-sprint or attempting a front flip on skis. Maybe I just broke it twice.
Each day at school, I see more and more of my classmates coming in with injuries of varying severity. I'd love to take a ganger at Mike's book. How he ended up cutting his ear off, I could n't guess. Although, reading another's book would be an automatic death sentence. We all knew that.
No, I'll just have to wonder. I think my book has started to watch me now. It has a certain presence when I enter my room. The presence becomes more menacing until I open it.
I swipe the dust off of the cover and turn it open and flip to the post-it note on page thirty.
BITE SOMEONE. *HARD. *
Great. Up until now, the only pain I had inflicted has been upon myself. I can deal with that, I guess, although I'm not sure how long for.
Sometimes, I find myself wondering what exactly this book is trying to teach me. I know we're not supposed to talk about it openly, but I do n't think it's breaking the rules to ponder over it.
Pain seems to be the consistent element in mine. Can I now appreciate when I do n't have a fork sticking out of my arm? Not having a fork sticking out of my arm does seem pretty great, I must admit. And I do n't remember feeling this way before the book.
`` Tim,'' I say across the lunchtable.
`` Yeah,'' answers my friend, looking over the sneaker he's sipping soup out of. The steam is fogging his glasses.
`` Never mind.''
| <s>[INST] At age 18 , everyone is given a manual explaining how to live a long and happy life . However , yours is telling you to do some pretty unusual things . [/INST] I think I may have punched myself in the face too hard, but the instructions were not specific. That's the problem with this book - it does n't explain anything well.
I've been pacing myself in reading it since my eighteenth birthday last month. There are only about a hundred suggestions or so and I do n't want to burn through them too fast. Not that there's a guide on how often your supposed to read and follow through with the actions. If I had n't been raised to revere this book, I might have begun to doubt it's merits. I think my nose is broken, although I'm not sure if that was a result of running into a tree full-sprint or attempting a front flip on skis. Maybe I just broke it twice.
Each day at school, I see more and more of my classmates coming in with injuries of varying severity. I'd love to take a ganger at Mike's book. How he ended up cutting his ear off, I could n't guess. Although, reading another's book would be an automatic death sentence. We all knew that.
No, I'll just have to wonder. I think my book has started to watch me now. It has a certain presence when I enter my room. The presence becomes more menacing until I open it.
I swipe the dust off of the cover and turn it open and flip to the post-it note on page thirty.
BITE SOMEONE. *HARD. *
Great. Up until now, the only pain I had inflicted has been upon myself. I can deal with that, I guess, although I'm not sure how long for.
Sometimes, I find myself wondering what exactly this book is trying to teach me. I know we're not supposed to talk about it openly, but I do n't think it's breaking the rules to ponder over it.
Pain seems to be the consistent element in mine. Can I now appreciate when I do n't have a fork sticking out of my arm? Not having a fork sticking out of my arm does seem pretty great, I must admit. And I do n't remember feeling this way before the book.
`` Tim,'' I say across the lunchtable.
`` Yeah,'' answers my friend, looking over the sneaker he's sipping soup out of. The steam is fogging his glasses.
`` Never mind.''
</s> |
[ WP ] You are the only person in the world who can not spontaneously break into song ( like Disney ) .
| When I was little, it did n't matter that I did n't join in with the songs. I'd dance along because everyone was dancing and everyone seemed so happy, and it was okay that I was clumsy and fell over and bumped into things, because it was expected that little kids still be somewhat uncoordinated. Cute, even.
Around puberty, most people get self-conscious about our voices, our looks, our dancing. Being uncoordinated is no longer socially acceptable -- it still happens, but not as often, and our own shame is usually heavier than any outside disapproval.
But gradually, usually in the mid teens but sometimes earlier, everyone gets back into the swing of things, back into the songs. The Sixteenth Birthday at the latest, since that's a magical year when Things Happen.
As I got older and still had n't joined in, everyone expected some great grand musical debut on my sixteenth birthday. I was so ashamed and anxious that I could n't even open my mouth. There was no song in me. Nothing came out.
The party broke apart after that in confusion, and I retreated to my room.
A few weeks later, it started. The Encouragement. The first time, it was at school, during lunch. A friend tried building me up, tried telling me that I'm a great person, that I deserve to be happy and part of it all. She started singing two years ago, and never pressured me to join in before, she knew I'd join in when I was ready.
As it was, the whole table joined in, and by the final chorus, even the lunch ladies were belting out the refrain. They all gathered around me, like I was the middle of some ridiculous human flower, pointing arms at me in unison as my cue.
I opened my mouth and the noise that came out might have been mistaken for a startled chicken.
After that, it became a trend. That song followed me everywhere; somehow everyone knew it, the tune that defined my life.
People would whistle the tune whenever I passed them.
On the bus, they murmured the refrain, in the classroom or on the train. I ignored the song as best I was able, but in time, I felt it was making me unstable. I could never manage to sing along, but the pressure was getting far too strong. In my room, I practiced scales, like rocking chairs on cats' tails.
But whenever I came into a song on the street, I bumped into dancers and tripped over my feet. I enrolled in lessons for poise and grace, but more and more I hid my face.
I felt I was on the cusp of madness. I stopped socializing, I stayed away from people as best I could. I barely spoke to anyone.
Years passed, and the `` encouragement song'' faded; people came to accept that I was odd.
When I turned 21, I spent my birthday alone. I'd always wanted to try drowning my sorrows in alcohol. I ca n't even break into song properly while drunk. I tried. I watched my recording the next morning, and deleted it immediately afterwards.
This feels like cheating, but I did find a solution, eventually.
I write my own songs in advance now. I write them and learn them, and practice by myself. And if I find a situation that fits the song, I stand up by myself and sing them.
The best part is that everyone else somehow does n't know the words, so they do n't join in, they ca n't dance, and they look at me in confusion. It feels like a petty revenge, but it is all I have.
I am the world's only soloist.
| <s>[INST] You are the only person in the world who can not spontaneously break into song ( like Disney ) . [/INST] When I was little, it did n't matter that I did n't join in with the songs. I'd dance along because everyone was dancing and everyone seemed so happy, and it was okay that I was clumsy and fell over and bumped into things, because it was expected that little kids still be somewhat uncoordinated. Cute, even.
Around puberty, most people get self-conscious about our voices, our looks, our dancing. Being uncoordinated is no longer socially acceptable -- it still happens, but not as often, and our own shame is usually heavier than any outside disapproval.
But gradually, usually in the mid teens but sometimes earlier, everyone gets back into the swing of things, back into the songs. The Sixteenth Birthday at the latest, since that's a magical year when Things Happen.
As I got older and still had n't joined in, everyone expected some great grand musical debut on my sixteenth birthday. I was so ashamed and anxious that I could n't even open my mouth. There was no song in me. Nothing came out.
The party broke apart after that in confusion, and I retreated to my room.
A few weeks later, it started. The Encouragement. The first time, it was at school, during lunch. A friend tried building me up, tried telling me that I'm a great person, that I deserve to be happy and part of it all. She started singing two years ago, and never pressured me to join in before, she knew I'd join in when I was ready.
As it was, the whole table joined in, and by the final chorus, even the lunch ladies were belting out the refrain. They all gathered around me, like I was the middle of some ridiculous human flower, pointing arms at me in unison as my cue.
I opened my mouth and the noise that came out might have been mistaken for a startled chicken.
After that, it became a trend. That song followed me everywhere; somehow everyone knew it, the tune that defined my life.
People would whistle the tune whenever I passed them.
On the bus, they murmured the refrain, in the classroom or on the train. I ignored the song as best I was able, but in time, I felt it was making me unstable. I could never manage to sing along, but the pressure was getting far too strong. In my room, I practiced scales, like rocking chairs on cats' tails.
But whenever I came into a song on the street, I bumped into dancers and tripped over my feet. I enrolled in lessons for poise and grace, but more and more I hid my face.
I felt I was on the cusp of madness. I stopped socializing, I stayed away from people as best I could. I barely spoke to anyone.
Years passed, and the `` encouragement song'' faded; people came to accept that I was odd.
When I turned 21, I spent my birthday alone. I'd always wanted to try drowning my sorrows in alcohol. I ca n't even break into song properly while drunk. I tried. I watched my recording the next morning, and deleted it immediately afterwards.
This feels like cheating, but I did find a solution, eventually.
I write my own songs in advance now. I write them and learn them, and practice by myself. And if I find a situation that fits the song, I stand up by myself and sing them.
The best part is that everyone else somehow does n't know the words, so they do n't join in, they ca n't dance, and they look at me in confusion. It feels like a petty revenge, but it is all I have.
I am the world's only soloist.
</s> |
[ WP ] You are a twenty something . You wake up to find yourself in your 8 year old body . You are in the time and at the place you were when you were 8 , but with all the memories and mannerisms of your twenty something self .
| Groggy, I opened my eyes. I must have fallen down a flight of stairs at school, because my right knee is all busted up, and bleeding.
`` Jack!'' yelled a boy with blonde hair, and brown eyes, and large glasses from the'90s. `` What are you doing? How did you fall down the stairs? Are n't you coming to the lunch room?''
What the fuck? Where am I? Why the hell am I holding a R.I Stine lunch bag? I push myself to knees and suddenly it hit me. My eyesight was... *normal*. My knee was bleeding but I did n't feel that gnawing pain in back that had been there for nearly a decade.
`` Holy SHIT!'' I yelled. The boy took a step back and pointed his paint-smeared finger at me. `` Wh... why did you say that!?! I'm gon na tell on you!!'' He ran down the hall into the lunch room and pulled a lunch monitor to the side and was whispering furiously to her. Time to make myself scarce. If I remember correctly, there was a bathroom right around the corn...
`` Jack!'' says a feminine voice that had lost itself in the etched memories of my hippocampus. `` Umm... Ms... I can explain, I was running down the stairs and I tripped and fell. I did n't mean to, I promise!'' I hastily backed up into the wall.
`` Honey, your knee is bleeding all over the place! Let's get you to the nurses office.'' She kindly led me by the hand down the sloped white concrete hallway filled with kids posters, Christmas decorations and large block letters that denoted every teacher's classroom in 72 point font.
After having my knee wrapped up, I look at my Shark-brand kids watch and realized it had a date - December 17th. Ok... if I am in Brissilion Elementary, that makes this... 1996. Oh crap. Is this really happening? You mean I have to go through another nine years of school? Well, at least I seem to remember everything from the... *future*. I shudder, this ca n't be happening. I can not be going through this period of my life again.
| <s>[INST] You are a twenty something . You wake up to find yourself in your 8 year old body . You are in the time and at the place you were when you were 8 , but with all the memories and mannerisms of your twenty something self . [/INST] Groggy, I opened my eyes. I must have fallen down a flight of stairs at school, because my right knee is all busted up, and bleeding.
`` Jack!'' yelled a boy with blonde hair, and brown eyes, and large glasses from the'90s. `` What are you doing? How did you fall down the stairs? Are n't you coming to the lunch room?''
What the fuck? Where am I? Why the hell am I holding a R.I Stine lunch bag? I push myself to knees and suddenly it hit me. My eyesight was... *normal*. My knee was bleeding but I did n't feel that gnawing pain in back that had been there for nearly a decade.
`` Holy SHIT!'' I yelled. The boy took a step back and pointed his paint-smeared finger at me. `` Wh... why did you say that!?! I'm gon na tell on you!!'' He ran down the hall into the lunch room and pulled a lunch monitor to the side and was whispering furiously to her. Time to make myself scarce. If I remember correctly, there was a bathroom right around the corn...
`` Jack!'' says a feminine voice that had lost itself in the etched memories of my hippocampus. `` Umm... Ms... I can explain, I was running down the stairs and I tripped and fell. I did n't mean to, I promise!'' I hastily backed up into the wall.
`` Honey, your knee is bleeding all over the place! Let's get you to the nurses office.'' She kindly led me by the hand down the sloped white concrete hallway filled with kids posters, Christmas decorations and large block letters that denoted every teacher's classroom in 72 point font.
After having my knee wrapped up, I look at my Shark-brand kids watch and realized it had a date - December 17th. Ok... if I am in Brissilion Elementary, that makes this... 1996. Oh crap. Is this really happening? You mean I have to go through another nine years of school? Well, at least I seem to remember everything from the... *future*. I shudder, this ca n't be happening. I can not be going through this period of my life again.
</s> |
[ CW ] Describe 10 seconds in excruciating detail
| Bang!
The bullet shot forwards at ridiculous speed. It would hit it's target long before anyone could properly react to the sound and rationalise what had just happened, too late for anyone to stop it, it would now inevitably cause mass panic.
The bullet flew through the air towards it's target, seemingly unhindered by air resistance or friction. It sailed downwards with gravity, something the shooter had tried to compensate for when they fired. The shooter was up above, several floors above his target.
The impact was immediate and obvious. The body recoiled from the sheer force the bullet carried, and blood immediately shot out. A second bang had already been heard, but the first bullet had already been enough, slamming right into the side of the skull, sending flesh, hair, blood and brain matter in all directions.
Instinctively he clutched at his head, but was already feeling faint. His vision began to blur, he vaguely could make out the panic as he fell backwards, his wife desperately clutching at him, while all around him people moved in terror. As he hit the ground he blacked out.
His wife was distraught. In a moment she had gone from smiling happily to completely overwhelmed with shock. All she could do was tell God that she rejected the notion, that this was not how things were meant to be. She repeatedly called out to Him, hoping He would realise his mistake, to overwhelmed to do anything but shriek out to her Lord in fear.
She looked at him, his body fighting for breath, blood still seeping out of the open wound. It was too much for her, she had never wanted to see him like this, but she could n't bring herself to look away. She wanted to see he was alright. She neeeded to see he would survive.
He did n't.
| <s>[INST] [ CW ] Describe 10 seconds in excruciating detail [/INST] Bang!
The bullet shot forwards at ridiculous speed. It would hit it's target long before anyone could properly react to the sound and rationalise what had just happened, too late for anyone to stop it, it would now inevitably cause mass panic.
The bullet flew through the air towards it's target, seemingly unhindered by air resistance or friction. It sailed downwards with gravity, something the shooter had tried to compensate for when they fired. The shooter was up above, several floors above his target.
The impact was immediate and obvious. The body recoiled from the sheer force the bullet carried, and blood immediately shot out. A second bang had already been heard, but the first bullet had already been enough, slamming right into the side of the skull, sending flesh, hair, blood and brain matter in all directions.
Instinctively he clutched at his head, but was already feeling faint. His vision began to blur, he vaguely could make out the panic as he fell backwards, his wife desperately clutching at him, while all around him people moved in terror. As he hit the ground he blacked out.
His wife was distraught. In a moment she had gone from smiling happily to completely overwhelmed with shock. All she could do was tell God that she rejected the notion, that this was not how things were meant to be. She repeatedly called out to Him, hoping He would realise his mistake, to overwhelmed to do anything but shriek out to her Lord in fear.
She looked at him, his body fighting for breath, blood still seeping out of the open wound. It was too much for her, she had never wanted to see him like this, but she could n't bring herself to look away. She wanted to see he was alright. She neeeded to see he would survive.
He did n't.
</s> |
[ WP ] If , when you die , you do n't get into heaven , there is an option to try again , and get in the next time . There is a man who has been trying for millennia ; he has been Ghengis Khan , Hitler , and many other brutal leaders . That man is you , and this time , you 're determined to get it right .
| β So, what do you want to try this time? β
I got the distinct idea that St Peter was bored of having to ask me this question. This was theβ¦ 27th time, or the 28th. I can β t quite keep track anymore. β Any recommendations? β I asked, exasperated.
β Like I said before, uniting the human race is still at the top of the big man β s wish list. β
I β d heard that one before and to that end I β d so far caused multiple wars, conquered damn near every inch of the planet and apparently, my methods were β too harsh β.
β No I think I β m just going try being a normal guy this time, just keep my head down and not embark on any grand endeavours. Think you could throw me into the middle of the bell curve in an average American family or something? β
I saw him think it over, raise his eyebrows and respond; β That might work actually. You know the drill, close your eyes, next stop Washington, USA. β
I came to in that unconscious part of the brain where I had to exist until my host body got old enough to start making decisions. I was looking up at a chubby father who looked kind and was clearly overjoyed at my existence.
β Congratulations Mr. Bone, it β s a boy. Got any ideas for a name? β the nurse enquired kindly.
I heard my new dad reply in a gruff Seattle accent β Kenneth, we β re going to call him Ken. β...
| <s>[INST] If , when you die , you do n't get into heaven , there is an option to try again , and get in the next time . There is a man who has been trying for millennia ; he has been Ghengis Khan , Hitler , and many other brutal leaders . That man is you , and this time , you 're determined to get it right . [/INST] β So, what do you want to try this time? β
I got the distinct idea that St Peter was bored of having to ask me this question. This was theβ¦ 27th time, or the 28th. I can β t quite keep track anymore. β Any recommendations? β I asked, exasperated.
β Like I said before, uniting the human race is still at the top of the big man β s wish list. β
I β d heard that one before and to that end I β d so far caused multiple wars, conquered damn near every inch of the planet and apparently, my methods were β too harsh β.
β No I think I β m just going try being a normal guy this time, just keep my head down and not embark on any grand endeavours. Think you could throw me into the middle of the bell curve in an average American family or something? β
I saw him think it over, raise his eyebrows and respond; β That might work actually. You know the drill, close your eyes, next stop Washington, USA. β
I came to in that unconscious part of the brain where I had to exist until my host body got old enough to start making decisions. I was looking up at a chubby father who looked kind and was clearly overjoyed at my existence.
β Congratulations Mr. Bone, it β s a boy. Got any ideas for a name? β the nurse enquired kindly.
I heard my new dad reply in a gruff Seattle accent β Kenneth, we β re going to call him Ken. β...
</s> |
[ WP ] A clandestine organisation knowingly sponsors a major Hollywood movie that exposes their secrets as `` fiction '' to give themselves plausible deniability should the real truth ever come out .
| `` Mercenaries, you say?'' says John Michum, a screenplay filter of sorts for MackBack studios. I began to wonder if presenting this idea to him was a good idea. It's not like I had a choice. The group I work for, the Forgettables, would never let me live through the night if I do n't get a yes out of one of these major studios today.
`` Yes Mr. Michum.'' I replied. `` The thing is, it's not just the mercs. Our thought is to get some really big names like Vyllestry Allone, Reginald Schwartzkopf, and The Stone to play the lead roles.''
`` Ok, but what's the story about Mike.'' said John. `` No one wants to see a movie with old actors running around like Bambo killing people. I do n't think it will make much money.'' John was sitting idly at this point tapping a pencil on his desk. `` And let's be honest, it does n't seem like people are really into this kind of thing anymore.''
I thought about it for moment. He was right. Most people do n't care for movies like that anymore. Maybe in the 80's it would have been as popular as neon socks with short shorts on men. But its the year 2014. Most people want substance. Then it hit me...
`` Ok then Mr. Michum. I get it.'' I was hoping he would n't see through my deception before I even started. `` We will just take this back to NGN Studios with their initial offer. `` They particularly thought the funny side of it was what would sell out. The cheap one liners.''
Did he buy it? Time ticked on for a moment and I decided that now was a good time to leave, with him sitting there still tapping his pencil on the desk.
As I opened the door to his office, he came back with `` How much do you need for the movie? What is our take?''.
Bingo.
`` We do n't need any money. And MackBack needs to do nothing...'' I said watching Johns eyes light up at the news to that. ``... except to convince the talent that it may be a great way to either restart their careers or go out with a bang.'' I stood their quietly letting him chew on it.
`` That's it? Seriously, that is it? Why ca n't you just do that yourself?'' He asked bluntly... and that was a good question. One which I already had the answer to.
`` We need the legitimacy of a large studio.'' I told him. I already discussed this with the rest of the organization. If the movie was released from a large studio, it would relegate our organization to just being based off a movie should we ever be'discovered' by conspiracy theorists. `` What would people think of a movie released by an indie studio. The best we would get is a spotlight at the Sundance Film Festival. No credibility like that.''
And he bought it. I could tell by the look in his eyes. Not like it was a lie either. But the sincerity of the immediate truth to it had him buying it.
| <s>[INST] A clandestine organisation knowingly sponsors a major Hollywood movie that exposes their secrets as `` fiction '' to give themselves plausible deniability should the real truth ever come out . [/INST] `` Mercenaries, you say?'' says John Michum, a screenplay filter of sorts for MackBack studios. I began to wonder if presenting this idea to him was a good idea. It's not like I had a choice. The group I work for, the Forgettables, would never let me live through the night if I do n't get a yes out of one of these major studios today.
`` Yes Mr. Michum.'' I replied. `` The thing is, it's not just the mercs. Our thought is to get some really big names like Vyllestry Allone, Reginald Schwartzkopf, and The Stone to play the lead roles.''
`` Ok, but what's the story about Mike.'' said John. `` No one wants to see a movie with old actors running around like Bambo killing people. I do n't think it will make much money.'' John was sitting idly at this point tapping a pencil on his desk. `` And let's be honest, it does n't seem like people are really into this kind of thing anymore.''
I thought about it for moment. He was right. Most people do n't care for movies like that anymore. Maybe in the 80's it would have been as popular as neon socks with short shorts on men. But its the year 2014. Most people want substance. Then it hit me...
`` Ok then Mr. Michum. I get it.'' I was hoping he would n't see through my deception before I even started. `` We will just take this back to NGN Studios with their initial offer. `` They particularly thought the funny side of it was what would sell out. The cheap one liners.''
Did he buy it? Time ticked on for a moment and I decided that now was a good time to leave, with him sitting there still tapping his pencil on the desk.
As I opened the door to his office, he came back with `` How much do you need for the movie? What is our take?''.
Bingo.
`` We do n't need any money. And MackBack needs to do nothing...'' I said watching Johns eyes light up at the news to that. ``... except to convince the talent that it may be a great way to either restart their careers or go out with a bang.'' I stood their quietly letting him chew on it.
`` That's it? Seriously, that is it? Why ca n't you just do that yourself?'' He asked bluntly... and that was a good question. One which I already had the answer to.
`` We need the legitimacy of a large studio.'' I told him. I already discussed this with the rest of the organization. If the movie was released from a large studio, it would relegate our organization to just being based off a movie should we ever be'discovered' by conspiracy theorists. `` What would people think of a movie released by an indie studio. The best we would get is a spotlight at the Sundance Film Festival. No credibility like that.''
And he bought it. I could tell by the look in his eyes. Not like it was a lie either. But the sincerity of the immediate truth to it had him buying it.
</s> |
[ FF ] 75-150 words -- The sound of faint tapping at your window , four floors up .
| I had just put my 4 year old son to bed when I heard three faint taps on the window in his room. I disregarded it and started to leave when I heard it again. Out of curiosity I checked to the window to see what was causing it. To my dismay, I saw my little son standing out on the fire escape, eyes wide in terror.
I did n't look back. I had seen enough horror movies to know not to turn around. Instead I quickly opened the window, grabbed my son, and went down the fire escape as fast as I could. I do n't know what I tucked in to my son's bed, and I sure as hell had no intentions of finding out.
| <s>[INST] [ FF ] 75-150 words -- The sound of faint tapping at your window , four floors up . [/INST] I had just put my 4 year old son to bed when I heard three faint taps on the window in his room. I disregarded it and started to leave when I heard it again. Out of curiosity I checked to the window to see what was causing it. To my dismay, I saw my little son standing out on the fire escape, eyes wide in terror.
I did n't look back. I had seen enough horror movies to know not to turn around. Instead I quickly opened the window, grabbed my son, and went down the fire escape as fast as I could. I do n't know what I tucked in to my son's bed, and I sure as hell had no intentions of finding out.
</s> |
[ WP ] For years Earth cried out to an empty cosmos , searching the stars for echoes of life . From the middle of nowhere , a reply finally comes : `` Shut up , and Play Dead ! ''
| Not sure if any of it makes sense grammatically or otherwise.
The message arrived in binary. Few even tried to understand how'they' had managed this but they had and now they had sent their cryptic code.
'shut up and play dead'
If only the greats of astronomy had been there when the message was decoded in the labs that day: could Galileo ever have possibly imagined that he had guided humanity towards this absurd moment; could Copernicus have fathomed that hundreds of years of exploration of the concept of space could amount to the instructions given a pet?
'shut up and play dead'
Transmission of a message into space is not a simple matter. To ensure a cohesive, coherent message arrives at the intended destination, the message must be repeated countless times and amplified so as to project over vast distances which can cause a degree of'echo' that must be corrected for at the receiver's end. These technicalities meant that our first words received presumably from another sentient species were n't
'shut up and play dead'
they were
'shut up shut up ut up up up shut shut shut up up shut shut ut up and play play and play and play and play and play play dead dead dead dea dead dea de dea dead'
This transmission was received over the space of roughly a week as cosmic echo had dispersed the emission frequency so it was with understandable relief that researchers received the second half of the message beginning with'and.'
Still the message seemed to confirm what many humans suspected for a very long time - that what humanity stood for was loud, abrasive, piercing yells into what was presumed empty space until those occupying that space could no longer pretend we did n't exist.
Edit; Grammar
| <s>[INST] For years Earth cried out to an empty cosmos , searching the stars for echoes of life . From the middle of nowhere , a reply finally comes : `` Shut up , and Play Dead ! '' [/INST] Not sure if any of it makes sense grammatically or otherwise.
The message arrived in binary. Few even tried to understand how'they' had managed this but they had and now they had sent their cryptic code.
'shut up and play dead'
If only the greats of astronomy had been there when the message was decoded in the labs that day: could Galileo ever have possibly imagined that he had guided humanity towards this absurd moment; could Copernicus have fathomed that hundreds of years of exploration of the concept of space could amount to the instructions given a pet?
'shut up and play dead'
Transmission of a message into space is not a simple matter. To ensure a cohesive, coherent message arrives at the intended destination, the message must be repeated countless times and amplified so as to project over vast distances which can cause a degree of'echo' that must be corrected for at the receiver's end. These technicalities meant that our first words received presumably from another sentient species were n't
'shut up and play dead'
they were
'shut up shut up ut up up up shut shut shut up up shut shut ut up and play play and play and play and play and play play dead dead dead dea dead dea de dea dead'
This transmission was received over the space of roughly a week as cosmic echo had dispersed the emission frequency so it was with understandable relief that researchers received the second half of the message beginning with'and.'
Still the message seemed to confirm what many humans suspected for a very long time - that what humanity stood for was loud, abrasive, piercing yells into what was presumed empty space until those occupying that space could no longer pretend we did n't exist.
Edit; Grammar
</s> |
[ WP ] Everyday a homeless man preaches about conspiracies from the street corner . One day , as you pass by , he tackles you and forces a tin foil hat on your head . Thats when everything changed ...
| It was bitterly cold, the wind seeped through my winter layers, wherever it touched felt wet. I cradled my daily Chai Latte close to my chest, protecting it as though it were the last ember of a dying fire, the only warmth to be had on my bleak trek to the center of town.
Just another Monday, like any other. Gray, desolate, the hollow promise of a satisfying life had been slowly fading as the years dragged on, and the last of its protective layer is flaking away from my soul as I write this.
Ever since my early childhood I had been intrigued by fiction. Fantastical stories of future scientific wonders, age old myths of gods, and dragons. Heroes overcoming any odds to bring safety and light to the cold and unforgiving world. I lost myself in novels and stories, let myself forget the reality that I would never be Hercules, never travel with Professor Otto Lidenbrock to the depths of our planet.
After these many years of school, hard work, failed relationships, and everything else the slow creeping death of adulthood gifts to us, my inner flame of hope has been battered into submission. It's nearly gone now, though the pilot light of my fantasies still burns, somewhere inside me. I know this because it blossoms into a roaring furnace of happiness and dream when I fall asleep.
Despite the constant crushing feeling of the steamroller of life compressing me into a cardboard-flat puzzle piece in the landscape of humanity, I continue. I still walk to work every day, I sit at my desk, I look at the numbers that I went to school for so long to be able to read. I do my job.
On this particular Monday, which I had thought was like any other Monday, something peculiar happened. As I was forging my path through the frigid streets I was assaulted by the screaming of what seemed to be a living conglomerate of rough brown blankets. As I scrutinized the woolly folds, a brown, deeply wrinkled face materialized. It reminded me of a walnut. I tuned out the inane ramblings about conspiracies, aliens, Obama and Putin's love affair, and whatever else the obviously ailing mind was ejecting through its toothless maw. I had planned to keep walking but a silvery glint from the blanket-ball caught my eye, and I stopped to examine it. As I moved in a little closer, the man, or woman, I could n't really tell through the layer of grime on it's face, slowly pushed the blankets back from it's head to reveal a marvelously crafted tin foil hat.
The creature in the blanket pile began to regale me with a tale of how the metallic headpiece had protected him from the machinations of the secret alien empire living under the earth's crust, and as I had no particular interest in going to work, I listened. As the story unfolded, my pilot light began to swell, maybe it could be real... I decided that no, it's not possible. Near the end of the enthralling yarn, it petitioned me to put on the hat, assuring me that I would see the truth, if I would only wear the foil. I politely declined, and decided I should be on my way, I would n't want to get fired.
I only made it a few feet before feeling the impact of 200 lbs of wool and human flesh ramming into my back, slamming me into the ground. Grubby fingers clawed at my hood and plaid scarf, tearing them from my head and neck, and I felt the freezing crinkle of aluminum replace them, the woolbeast leapt off my back and screamed `` now SEEEE!''
I shakily stood up, eyes shut tight. What if it was real, I did n't feel any different, but what will I see when I open my eyes? I felt the warmth of hope welling in my breast as I slowly raised my reluctant lids. Now, with my eyes fully open, I did see. I saw everything. I took it all in, and it was all the same. Shivering pedestrians, cars inching along in gridlock traffic, and a crazy homeless person waving their arms and jumping up and down next to me. A gust of wind blew the tin foil hat off my head and into oblivion. I slowly raised my eyes to the grey sky, braced my self, and sighed as my pilot light flickered and went out.
| <s>[INST] Everyday a homeless man preaches about conspiracies from the street corner . One day , as you pass by , he tackles you and forces a tin foil hat on your head . Thats when everything changed ... [/INST] It was bitterly cold, the wind seeped through my winter layers, wherever it touched felt wet. I cradled my daily Chai Latte close to my chest, protecting it as though it were the last ember of a dying fire, the only warmth to be had on my bleak trek to the center of town.
Just another Monday, like any other. Gray, desolate, the hollow promise of a satisfying life had been slowly fading as the years dragged on, and the last of its protective layer is flaking away from my soul as I write this.
Ever since my early childhood I had been intrigued by fiction. Fantastical stories of future scientific wonders, age old myths of gods, and dragons. Heroes overcoming any odds to bring safety and light to the cold and unforgiving world. I lost myself in novels and stories, let myself forget the reality that I would never be Hercules, never travel with Professor Otto Lidenbrock to the depths of our planet.
After these many years of school, hard work, failed relationships, and everything else the slow creeping death of adulthood gifts to us, my inner flame of hope has been battered into submission. It's nearly gone now, though the pilot light of my fantasies still burns, somewhere inside me. I know this because it blossoms into a roaring furnace of happiness and dream when I fall asleep.
Despite the constant crushing feeling of the steamroller of life compressing me into a cardboard-flat puzzle piece in the landscape of humanity, I continue. I still walk to work every day, I sit at my desk, I look at the numbers that I went to school for so long to be able to read. I do my job.
On this particular Monday, which I had thought was like any other Monday, something peculiar happened. As I was forging my path through the frigid streets I was assaulted by the screaming of what seemed to be a living conglomerate of rough brown blankets. As I scrutinized the woolly folds, a brown, deeply wrinkled face materialized. It reminded me of a walnut. I tuned out the inane ramblings about conspiracies, aliens, Obama and Putin's love affair, and whatever else the obviously ailing mind was ejecting through its toothless maw. I had planned to keep walking but a silvery glint from the blanket-ball caught my eye, and I stopped to examine it. As I moved in a little closer, the man, or woman, I could n't really tell through the layer of grime on it's face, slowly pushed the blankets back from it's head to reveal a marvelously crafted tin foil hat.
The creature in the blanket pile began to regale me with a tale of how the metallic headpiece had protected him from the machinations of the secret alien empire living under the earth's crust, and as I had no particular interest in going to work, I listened. As the story unfolded, my pilot light began to swell, maybe it could be real... I decided that no, it's not possible. Near the end of the enthralling yarn, it petitioned me to put on the hat, assuring me that I would see the truth, if I would only wear the foil. I politely declined, and decided I should be on my way, I would n't want to get fired.
I only made it a few feet before feeling the impact of 200 lbs of wool and human flesh ramming into my back, slamming me into the ground. Grubby fingers clawed at my hood and plaid scarf, tearing them from my head and neck, and I felt the freezing crinkle of aluminum replace them, the woolbeast leapt off my back and screamed `` now SEEEE!''
I shakily stood up, eyes shut tight. What if it was real, I did n't feel any different, but what will I see when I open my eyes? I felt the warmth of hope welling in my breast as I slowly raised my reluctant lids. Now, with my eyes fully open, I did see. I saw everything. I took it all in, and it was all the same. Shivering pedestrians, cars inching along in gridlock traffic, and a crazy homeless person waving their arms and jumping up and down next to me. A gust of wind blew the tin foil hat off my head and into oblivion. I slowly raised my eyes to the grey sky, braced my self, and sighed as my pilot light flickered and went out.
</s> |
[ WP ] You are a POW at a German camp . The General in charge of the camp , one of Hitler 's right hand men , likes to challenge men in the camp to duels at whatever the prisoner is best at to prove german superiority . If you beat him you are let go , if you lose you die . Today is your day to duel him .
| As I sat on my bunk, thoughts rushed through my head:
*What if I ca n't beat him? *
*There's literally nothing I'm good at! *
*Why can I hear myself thinking? *
But as I sat there and pondered, an idea came to the forefront of my mind. It was devious, cunning... everything deserving of an evil laugh. I began in earnest, but almost immediately a guard poked his head in and yelled `` NEIN! Zat is our job! 10 BEATINGS FOR EVERYONE!''
*Dammit. *
Well anyway, back to the story.
The duel was scheduled for 9:00 that evening, and I had to prepare. I worked myself down to the bone all day, harder than I'd ever worked before. Now, you may be wondering, `` Would n't working so hard be a disadvantage?'' Maybe, but I had a plan. It was devious, cunning... *wait better stop myself there. *
The rest of the day passed in a flurry of hard work, bad food, and screaming Germans. 9:00 rolled around, and the whole camp was summoned to the main courtyard. The general stepped out from a block of soldiers, and beckoned me out of the crowd. As I stepped forward, the general laughed and boomed out `` Vell then, ze mighty challenger approaches! What is your trial? I shall best you at it with ease!'' I smirked and called out `` I challenge you... to do nothing.''
*cricket cricket*
`` Wait... vat?''
`` You heard me. You might as well call it a lazy-off, if that would help.''
The general stood stock still, in abject confusion. He straightened, shook himself, and met my gaze. `` Very well. I accept your challenge.'' I clapped my hands and gleefully exclaimed `` Alrighty then! Let's get started. Lie down, first one to move loses.'' We slammed to the floor, and the competition began. For two days and three nights the battle raged, with absolutely no sound coming from either competitor. At the beginning of the third day, the general threw himself up and out the door, screaming `` ZIS IS MADNESS!'' all the way to the capital. All the prisoners burst out laughing, and the soldiers opened the gates and kicked me out.
I closed the diary with a satisfied look on my face, and turned to the history students. `` And that's how I turned the Germans into workaholics.''
**Feedback and criticism is appreciated. **
| <s>[INST] You are a POW at a German camp . The General in charge of the camp , one of Hitler 's right hand men , likes to challenge men in the camp to duels at whatever the prisoner is best at to prove german superiority . If you beat him you are let go , if you lose you die . Today is your day to duel him . [/INST] As I sat on my bunk, thoughts rushed through my head:
*What if I ca n't beat him? *
*There's literally nothing I'm good at! *
*Why can I hear myself thinking? *
But as I sat there and pondered, an idea came to the forefront of my mind. It was devious, cunning... everything deserving of an evil laugh. I began in earnest, but almost immediately a guard poked his head in and yelled `` NEIN! Zat is our job! 10 BEATINGS FOR EVERYONE!''
*Dammit. *
Well anyway, back to the story.
The duel was scheduled for 9:00 that evening, and I had to prepare. I worked myself down to the bone all day, harder than I'd ever worked before. Now, you may be wondering, `` Would n't working so hard be a disadvantage?'' Maybe, but I had a plan. It was devious, cunning... *wait better stop myself there. *
The rest of the day passed in a flurry of hard work, bad food, and screaming Germans. 9:00 rolled around, and the whole camp was summoned to the main courtyard. The general stepped out from a block of soldiers, and beckoned me out of the crowd. As I stepped forward, the general laughed and boomed out `` Vell then, ze mighty challenger approaches! What is your trial? I shall best you at it with ease!'' I smirked and called out `` I challenge you... to do nothing.''
*cricket cricket*
`` Wait... vat?''
`` You heard me. You might as well call it a lazy-off, if that would help.''
The general stood stock still, in abject confusion. He straightened, shook himself, and met my gaze. `` Very well. I accept your challenge.'' I clapped my hands and gleefully exclaimed `` Alrighty then! Let's get started. Lie down, first one to move loses.'' We slammed to the floor, and the competition began. For two days and three nights the battle raged, with absolutely no sound coming from either competitor. At the beginning of the third day, the general threw himself up and out the door, screaming `` ZIS IS MADNESS!'' all the way to the capital. All the prisoners burst out laughing, and the soldiers opened the gates and kicked me out.
I closed the diary with a satisfied look on my face, and turned to the history students. `` And that's how I turned the Germans into workaholics.''
**Feedback and criticism is appreciated. **
</s> |
[ WP ] Humans spread amongst the stars creating colonies and massive space faring fleets until finally they encounters a federation of hundreds of aliens races that came together thousands of years ago to destroy the greatest empire to ever rule the stars , Mankind .
| Mankind is a plague. A species capable of populating and harvesting the stars within a few generations.
It thrives on war and its unerring hatred for anything it deems as different. An unstoppable force of which no planet or galaxy is seen as too hostile or inhospitable for it to either destroy, or worse, call home.
A life force completely and utterly incapable of living without consuming the energy that is n't it's own.
It was this need for third party energy that led to its demise. It spread across the totallity of space devouring all in its path using false deities, prophets or the need to secure its own safety as reasoning for its crimes.
When it became apparent that humanity was a beast who's appetite was insatiable, the remaining civilisations agreed to barter with its foe in a currency it would understand. Extinction.
What followed was long and drawn out battle across the stars between a federation of beings exercising a last throw of the dice and a species which glorified and fetished the spilling of blood it relied on and was so readily provided by its enemy.
Eventually every trace of man was eradicated from space. Not without a cost, the universe, previously populous and advanced was now peppered with massive areas of silence. For light years in every direction there was no sign of life and the clusters on the very universe where mankinds nemeses still remained were too damaged and war weary to ever return to their previous size and ability.
A untold amount of time passed and mankind passed into the obscurity of history and was nothing more than. A boogeyman for the young, the monster under the bed which ceased to exist when old enough to stop fearing stories.
But man was found again. In the middle of the greatest expanse of nothing it was found etching a living on a hostile planet where despite its bloody past, it was struggling to remain middle of the food chain with its crude weaponry of sticks, stones and fire.
It was believed the varied and deadly regions of the planet, populated by species which just like man, survived by killing, coupled with mankind's fractious relationship with other tribes of its own species would lead to its eventual eradication and as such no effort was made to actually monitor or control the situation.
Then a probe named `` Voyager'' crashed into inhabited space. It proved that the species which only a thousand generations previously was barely surviving was now the dominant species on its planet and could be found on every corner of it rekindling it's love for mass extinction.
A task force was sent to deal with the now very apparent danger the reappearance of the Universe's very own Grim Reaper. However, it would seem the probe was now only an artefact of a civilisation that was now spread throughout entire solar systems following it's pattern of self preservation shown a milenia before.
The task force was annihilated and the tracking down of its survivors were tracked down as sport. With these survivors, mankind gained every bit of knowledge regarding their past through forceful and sickening means.
Mankind now has a target for its bloodlust. A target which it seems tried to destroy them years and years ago.
Mankind is an angry species. Mankind is remembering. Mankind is hungry.
| <s>[INST] Humans spread amongst the stars creating colonies and massive space faring fleets until finally they encounters a federation of hundreds of aliens races that came together thousands of years ago to destroy the greatest empire to ever rule the stars , Mankind . [/INST] Mankind is a plague. A species capable of populating and harvesting the stars within a few generations.
It thrives on war and its unerring hatred for anything it deems as different. An unstoppable force of which no planet or galaxy is seen as too hostile or inhospitable for it to either destroy, or worse, call home.
A life force completely and utterly incapable of living without consuming the energy that is n't it's own.
It was this need for third party energy that led to its demise. It spread across the totallity of space devouring all in its path using false deities, prophets or the need to secure its own safety as reasoning for its crimes.
When it became apparent that humanity was a beast who's appetite was insatiable, the remaining civilisations agreed to barter with its foe in a currency it would understand. Extinction.
What followed was long and drawn out battle across the stars between a federation of beings exercising a last throw of the dice and a species which glorified and fetished the spilling of blood it relied on and was so readily provided by its enemy.
Eventually every trace of man was eradicated from space. Not without a cost, the universe, previously populous and advanced was now peppered with massive areas of silence. For light years in every direction there was no sign of life and the clusters on the very universe where mankinds nemeses still remained were too damaged and war weary to ever return to their previous size and ability.
A untold amount of time passed and mankind passed into the obscurity of history and was nothing more than. A boogeyman for the young, the monster under the bed which ceased to exist when old enough to stop fearing stories.
But man was found again. In the middle of the greatest expanse of nothing it was found etching a living on a hostile planet where despite its bloody past, it was struggling to remain middle of the food chain with its crude weaponry of sticks, stones and fire.
It was believed the varied and deadly regions of the planet, populated by species which just like man, survived by killing, coupled with mankind's fractious relationship with other tribes of its own species would lead to its eventual eradication and as such no effort was made to actually monitor or control the situation.
Then a probe named `` Voyager'' crashed into inhabited space. It proved that the species which only a thousand generations previously was barely surviving was now the dominant species on its planet and could be found on every corner of it rekindling it's love for mass extinction.
A task force was sent to deal with the now very apparent danger the reappearance of the Universe's very own Grim Reaper. However, it would seem the probe was now only an artefact of a civilisation that was now spread throughout entire solar systems following it's pattern of self preservation shown a milenia before.
The task force was annihilated and the tracking down of its survivors were tracked down as sport. With these survivors, mankind gained every bit of knowledge regarding their past through forceful and sickening means.
Mankind now has a target for its bloodlust. A target which it seems tried to destroy them years and years ago.
Mankind is an angry species. Mankind is remembering. Mankind is hungry.
</s> |
[ WP ] Any time you meet someone with the same birthday as you , you both must fight to the death . This has been going on for 15 years and there are exactly 367 people left alive .
| I had always heard that the first kill was the hardest. But for me, I know it's going to be the last one.
My parents separated when I was young, my brother and I were both aware what was happening. They just didn β t love each other like they used to. They decided that it would be best for the both of us to stay together, and so my parents decided that we would move in with my father. He was a decent man, a self made millionaire. He worked at a 3D printing shop, until he had the idea to make 3D printed weapons. Turns out, a lot of people like having access to cheap killing tools.
Everyone had at least one 3D printed weapon. I got my first one on my 7th birthday, a pair of 3D printed nunchucks. My brother was a little more adventurous, and he had my father make him a customized bow and arrow. My brother had always taken to my fathers business more than myself, he loved the idea of creating newer, better weapons.
It wasn β t until 2047. I remember it like it was yesterday, president Farrow made the announcement at the UN. β The greatest leaders of this world have come together, and we have unanimously agreed that there is a problem. β Different world leaders sat in their chairs, hiding behind the name tags belonging to their countries. β The earth is no longer a suitable place to live. It is time for us to find refuge on Kepler 963. β
Kepler 963s was a planet that was discovered in the habitable zone just a few hundred thousand light years away. Most people thought reaching it wouldn β t be possible, but thanks to an inventor named Elon Musk, it was believed that we would actually be able to make it there. There would only be one opportunity to make it work, and the window for error was quite small. The space ship would have to launch earth with in a window of 3 minutes, but it was possible.
The leaders of the world were applauding president Farrow now. He used his arms to quiet their applause. β Among each of us, we have decided whom should represent our countries on this new world, a world without borders. β Again the room applauded, and this time Farrow let them drag it out. β These individuals will help mold our new future, and the future of the entire species. β President Farrow paused for a moment, looking at the small gathering in front of him. He smiled just before he spoke again, β In addition, we have decided that a lottery should be held. β
I remember my father turning up the television and leaning in close to hear his next words. β One person will be selected for every day of the year, each pool will consist of contestants that were born on that day. Our planets will be aligned for the flight in just 17 years time.The drawing will take place one year before take off. Best of luck to you all. β
President Farrow left the stage to applause, he must β ve been thinking that he β d just made a major mark on human history. However, that was the day he slowly started destroying it.
People at first were excited about the opportunity, that anyone, anywhere may get the chance to be among the chosen few. Then people started considering their odds, and well, they didn β t like their chances. It started off subtle, but people began to notice the birthrate declining at an alarming pace. Researchers learned that people decided to reproduce less to increase their odds. The population started declining less than a year later, but the odds for some still weren β t good enough.
Murders started happening everywhere, and pretty soon, your birthday was more secret than even your social security number. Gangs started popping up, a lot of them with exactly 365 members, one for each day of the year. This gave them an incentive to work together, as they slowly increased their odds one by one. Every day on the news you would here what the population for each day was, and every day you would know your odds. It wasn β t until very normal people became murdering maniacs, that the world became overly concerned.
Every country declared a state of emergency, and within 10 years you would β ve thought the zombie apocalypse happened. No one was walking the streets, there were abandoned cars covering the roads, and most cities were now in ruins.
I don β t blame my father, he had a tough decision to make, and I probably would have made the same one in his place. There wasn β t a place for both my brother and I on the Kepler shuttle, so he had to choose one. He didn β t have the heart to kill me himself, and so he left me. I woke up to the car driving away, seeing the face I β d grown to know as my own riding away with it. I like to imagine that he was sad watching his mirror image fade off in the distance, but I knew he secretly was proud that our father had chosen him.
So, I went into hiding, and 1 year out from the Kepler drawing, I wasn β t close to the boy who had been left behind that day. I β ve done things I never could β ve imagined, but it β s all been for this. When that drawing happens there will be only one name in that bowl, and it will be mine.
*The Others* were the people who had already been chosen for the mission, and some of them kept the news stations going. These days the only thing that aired, was a calendar, it showed each day and it β s population. Now, they only bothered to show four dates. The only one I cared about was mine.
*May 7th. Population - 2*
β Yesterday it was three. β I was speaking to myself at this point, but that wasn β t anything abnormal. The news anchor seemingly heard my question as she spoke to the camera, β We can confirm an odd increase on May 7th and August 12th. Last night two male contestants were removed. Both were seemingly targeted by a gang using bow and arrow. We will bring you more updates as they come in. β She signed off.
Leaning back in my chair I spoke softly to myself again, β I always knew it would be you. β I pulled my hat down over my head, and fell asleep.
| <s>[INST] Any time you meet someone with the same birthday as you , you both must fight to the death . This has been going on for 15 years and there are exactly 367 people left alive . [/INST] I had always heard that the first kill was the hardest. But for me, I know it's going to be the last one.
My parents separated when I was young, my brother and I were both aware what was happening. They just didn β t love each other like they used to. They decided that it would be best for the both of us to stay together, and so my parents decided that we would move in with my father. He was a decent man, a self made millionaire. He worked at a 3D printing shop, until he had the idea to make 3D printed weapons. Turns out, a lot of people like having access to cheap killing tools.
Everyone had at least one 3D printed weapon. I got my first one on my 7th birthday, a pair of 3D printed nunchucks. My brother was a little more adventurous, and he had my father make him a customized bow and arrow. My brother had always taken to my fathers business more than myself, he loved the idea of creating newer, better weapons.
It wasn β t until 2047. I remember it like it was yesterday, president Farrow made the announcement at the UN. β The greatest leaders of this world have come together, and we have unanimously agreed that there is a problem. β Different world leaders sat in their chairs, hiding behind the name tags belonging to their countries. β The earth is no longer a suitable place to live. It is time for us to find refuge on Kepler 963. β
Kepler 963s was a planet that was discovered in the habitable zone just a few hundred thousand light years away. Most people thought reaching it wouldn β t be possible, but thanks to an inventor named Elon Musk, it was believed that we would actually be able to make it there. There would only be one opportunity to make it work, and the window for error was quite small. The space ship would have to launch earth with in a window of 3 minutes, but it was possible.
The leaders of the world were applauding president Farrow now. He used his arms to quiet their applause. β Among each of us, we have decided whom should represent our countries on this new world, a world without borders. β Again the room applauded, and this time Farrow let them drag it out. β These individuals will help mold our new future, and the future of the entire species. β President Farrow paused for a moment, looking at the small gathering in front of him. He smiled just before he spoke again, β In addition, we have decided that a lottery should be held. β
I remember my father turning up the television and leaning in close to hear his next words. β One person will be selected for every day of the year, each pool will consist of contestants that were born on that day. Our planets will be aligned for the flight in just 17 years time.The drawing will take place one year before take off. Best of luck to you all. β
President Farrow left the stage to applause, he must β ve been thinking that he β d just made a major mark on human history. However, that was the day he slowly started destroying it.
People at first were excited about the opportunity, that anyone, anywhere may get the chance to be among the chosen few. Then people started considering their odds, and well, they didn β t like their chances. It started off subtle, but people began to notice the birthrate declining at an alarming pace. Researchers learned that people decided to reproduce less to increase their odds. The population started declining less than a year later, but the odds for some still weren β t good enough.
Murders started happening everywhere, and pretty soon, your birthday was more secret than even your social security number. Gangs started popping up, a lot of them with exactly 365 members, one for each day of the year. This gave them an incentive to work together, as they slowly increased their odds one by one. Every day on the news you would here what the population for each day was, and every day you would know your odds. It wasn β t until very normal people became murdering maniacs, that the world became overly concerned.
Every country declared a state of emergency, and within 10 years you would β ve thought the zombie apocalypse happened. No one was walking the streets, there were abandoned cars covering the roads, and most cities were now in ruins.
I don β t blame my father, he had a tough decision to make, and I probably would have made the same one in his place. There wasn β t a place for both my brother and I on the Kepler shuttle, so he had to choose one. He didn β t have the heart to kill me himself, and so he left me. I woke up to the car driving away, seeing the face I β d grown to know as my own riding away with it. I like to imagine that he was sad watching his mirror image fade off in the distance, but I knew he secretly was proud that our father had chosen him.
So, I went into hiding, and 1 year out from the Kepler drawing, I wasn β t close to the boy who had been left behind that day. I β ve done things I never could β ve imagined, but it β s all been for this. When that drawing happens there will be only one name in that bowl, and it will be mine.
*The Others* were the people who had already been chosen for the mission, and some of them kept the news stations going. These days the only thing that aired, was a calendar, it showed each day and it β s population. Now, they only bothered to show four dates. The only one I cared about was mine.
*May 7th. Population - 2*
β Yesterday it was three. β I was speaking to myself at this point, but that wasn β t anything abnormal. The news anchor seemingly heard my question as she spoke to the camera, β We can confirm an odd increase on May 7th and August 12th. Last night two male contestants were removed. Both were seemingly targeted by a gang using bow and arrow. We will bring you more updates as they come in. β She signed off.
Leaning back in my chair I spoke softly to myself again, β I always knew it would be you. β I pulled my hat down over my head, and fell asleep.
</s> |
[ WP ] The Devil appears before you and puts a heavy hand on your shoulder , `` Look , we need to talk about you putting me in every Writing Prompt . ''
| Bridgette's eyes flickered momentarily, but only back and forth across the glowing rectangular screen clutched in her pinkly glittering fingertips. `` Yeah man, people fucking love you. You're, like, pretty much pop-culture.''
The Prince of Darkness snapped his leathery wings in irritation. Bridgette did n't look up; her followers needed her. The perfectly crisp white line of the part in her hair stared up at him as she calmly strung puns in a never-ending comment chain like a fucking pro. Lucifer the Morningstar settled for crouching a little in an attempt to make eye-contact, his barbed tails sweeping the ground. `` Believe me, I understand the temptation, but this has to stop. I'm not the Santa Claus of Reddit, I ca n't be everywhere at once.''
Bridgette's gaze flicked onto him so unexpectedly that Satan noticed too late the picture she snapped of him. `` Yeah, that's a meme if I ever heard one.''
Beelzebub peeked over her shoulder as blocky white text appeared across the scorching image of his sullen face. Between fangs, he pouted. `` Even you have to admit it's a cheap shot.''
Suddenly she was next to him, her spine pressed lightly into the burning flesh of his naked chest. The small white screen floated before his eyes between her palms. `` There, you see that? That's my fucking karma, big boy.''
Suddenly Satan did n't know what to do with hands. `` Is that for real?''
`` Just from this post. I'm telling you, they fucking love you.'' She smiled sweetly, looked up into his face, and snapped a selfie.
The Lord of the Flies stared blankly at the girl in his arms, then seemed to finally find his tongue. `` I think my eyes were closed. Get another.''
| <s>[INST] The Devil appears before you and puts a heavy hand on your shoulder , `` Look , we need to talk about you putting me in every Writing Prompt . '' [/INST] Bridgette's eyes flickered momentarily, but only back and forth across the glowing rectangular screen clutched in her pinkly glittering fingertips. `` Yeah man, people fucking love you. You're, like, pretty much pop-culture.''
The Prince of Darkness snapped his leathery wings in irritation. Bridgette did n't look up; her followers needed her. The perfectly crisp white line of the part in her hair stared up at him as she calmly strung puns in a never-ending comment chain like a fucking pro. Lucifer the Morningstar settled for crouching a little in an attempt to make eye-contact, his barbed tails sweeping the ground. `` Believe me, I understand the temptation, but this has to stop. I'm not the Santa Claus of Reddit, I ca n't be everywhere at once.''
Bridgette's gaze flicked onto him so unexpectedly that Satan noticed too late the picture she snapped of him. `` Yeah, that's a meme if I ever heard one.''
Beelzebub peeked over her shoulder as blocky white text appeared across the scorching image of his sullen face. Between fangs, he pouted. `` Even you have to admit it's a cheap shot.''
Suddenly she was next to him, her spine pressed lightly into the burning flesh of his naked chest. The small white screen floated before his eyes between her palms. `` There, you see that? That's my fucking karma, big boy.''
Suddenly Satan did n't know what to do with hands. `` Is that for real?''
`` Just from this post. I'm telling you, they fucking love you.'' She smiled sweetly, looked up into his face, and snapped a selfie.
The Lord of the Flies stared blankly at the girl in his arms, then seemed to finally find his tongue. `` I think my eyes were closed. Get another.''
</s> |
[ WP ] A demon decides it does n't want to create human suffering anymore and switches tactics . Little does it know it creates the worst suffering of all , forever written in demon history as the most savage and cruel demon that ever lived . The demons name ? Hope
| β Oh my poor John, β Eisbeth said, closing the door behind her. She rushed across the chamber to the man who hung from the chains in the middle of the room. Blood ebbed and oozed from his most recent wounds, softening the scabs of older ones as it dripped down his torn flesh. He was breathing, but didn β t stir. Not even when she touched his arm on one of the few spots that wasn β t lacerated, bruised, or broken.
β John. John? β
He didn β t move. She sighed and placed her hand on his forehead. Energy appeared, wispy and ethereal; surrounding her hand and his head both. As she concentrated, the flows of white and gold began submerging into the man β s skin. Probing deeper. Spreading out across his broken form as it hung from the chains. Finally he groaned.
β John? β
His eyes fluttered open, and she smiled as they focused on her. Carefully she lowered her hand to his cheek. The energy began fading as he took a deep breath that shuddered with effort. And rattled around in his chest painfully.
β John? Hi, hello, β Eisbeth said, caressing his face. β Remember me? β
β Elizabeth? β
β Close enough, β she said, very carefully not shrugging.
β You need to β¦ get out of here, β John wheezed. β Just run. Before they come back. They β ll take you. Torture you. β
β I β m here to help you, β she said.
β No β¦ run. β
β Shhh, it β s fine, β she said, patting his cheek tenderly. β They β re busy with something else. I β m here to help. β
β How? β
β I got in touch with your people. They β ll be coming to get you out. All you have to do is hold on. Can you do that for me? For them? Hold on a little longer? β
He blinked against a trickle of blood that was descending through one of his eyebrows. She smeared it away with her thumb, before it could start exploring his eye. β The Agency? β he asked.
β Yes, the Agency. They β re already on their way. It β ll just take them some doing to fight through the outer defenses. So, whatever these bastards do to you, just hang on a little longer. And everything will be okay. β
He nodded, the barest of movements; but she saw it. There was a glow of acknowledgement in his tired eyes as he met hers. β They won β t break me. β
β Good, β she nodded, then looked over her shoulder. β I β ve got to hide. Before they come back. So I β m ready to open the inner security layers up when your people are in position. β
β Go, β he said, sagging against the chains. But his eyes stayed open, like he was diverting most of his energy into them. Instead of his body. β Don β t worry about me. β
β Okay. Stay strong, β Eisbeth said, patting his cheek again. β I love you. β
β I love you. β
She walked around behind him. Her form shimmered abruptly, and by the time she walked through the wall like it wasn β t there her blonde hair and voluptuous curves had become brunette and a harder, leaner, slimmer body. In the hallway on the other side of the torture chamber, she straightened her beret and walked briskly until she reached a doorway that stood open.
β Well? β
β He β ll talk, β Eisbeth told the man who β d turned to her. He was the only one standing; everyone else present was seated around a table, studying a map. They all wore berets identical to hers, though that was the only uniformity in their attire. Which ranged from a mishmash of military fatigues to simple jeans and shirts.
β You β re sure? β
She nodded. β I am. You might have to step up your efforts on him, maybe get really creatively cruel, but he β ll talk. β
β Good, β the man said, clenching his fist. β Then we β ll have the location of their headquarters, and can strike directly at them. β
β Power to the people, β Eisbeth said, clenching her own fist.
β Power to the people! β everyone in the room immediately echoed.
β One issue. He got a warning out, just before you captured him. You should step up your security and defense patrols, just in case his people come looking to retrieve him. β
β They will not penetrate this base unless they β re prepared to level the city. β
β I just thought you should know everything. β
β Good work, β the man told her with a nod.
β That β s why I take the tough ones, β she said, smiling. β Speaking of which, I need to return a call to the Sacramento cell. They β ve got a tough one of their own. β
β Go. We β re fine here. β
She nodded and left the room. In the hallway, she looked around, then closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was in a different hallway. Her clothing had changed to a crisp uniform, beribboned and hung with rank insignia. She straightened her name tag, then strode toward the nearest corner. Turning left, she walked down to a set of double doors at the end, guarded by a pair of identically uniformed guards. They nodded to her; one opening the doors.
β General. β
β Major Ells, β a tall woman with four stars on her shoulder boards said after she turned and glanced at Eisbeth. β We β re ready to go in. Do you have a location for us? β
β It β s easier if I just mark it, β she said, gesturing at the big screen on the wall. β There are a number of checkpoints and hidden entrances that you β ll need to cover. β
β Please, β the general said, waving her arm at a console next to her.
Eisbeth leaned over the console, expertly manipulating the controls. The map on the big screen shifted, and zoomed in to encompass a smaller area. Icons began lighting on it; just under half of the actual entrances and checkpoints that guarded the rebels β secured areas. She finally straightened and looked at the general. β Be prepared for heavy resistance. But if you move quickly, I think you should be able to take them by surprise. Before they realize they β re unprepared. β
β I have units standing by now. We β ll break that cell, and that β ll end the resistance in this entire sector. Good work Major. β
Eisbeth nodded and saluted. β I β d better get back, before they suspect I β ve left. β
The general nodded, turning to one of her aides. Eisbeth left the command center and walked around the corner. Once out of sight, she closed her eyes again. This time she opened them to a fire strewn landscape filled with wind swept wailing, bloody rocks, and open pits filled with shattered corpses. A trio of heavy winged demons stood looking into a roaring bonfire being stoked by a dozen enslaved souls; studying the images suspended in the flames.
β Valoc. β
All three demons turned, and they smiled. β Eisbeth. Is it ready? β
β It is. The resistance should become open war within the hour. β Her clothing had vanished, leaving only tightly folded leathery wings, ebony scales, and horns that had been carved with dozens of mystical symbols. She walked toward them, her hooved feet crunching across the bones of countless prior fallen mortals.
β Yes, β the shortest of the demons said, clenching his clawed fingers into a fist the size of a good sized dog. β Thousands of fresh souls to feed the forges. β
β And the Heavenly Hosts won β t know what hit them when we bring that power to bear upon then. Finally the stalemate will be shattered, β the second demon said, grinning toothily.
β Thank you Eisbeth. β
β Hail Satan, β she said bowing low.
β Leave us. Your task is complete. β
She nodded, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she looked around at the vast expanse of white she now floated amid. Her heavy demonic form had softened to the gentler, less aggressive lines of a seraphim. Unfolding her wings, now feathered, she flew over to a particularly large cloud, and entered it.
β Hope, welcome, β a melodic male voice said as she passed through the cloud wall.
β Gabriel, it is done, β she said, alighting next to the cluster of angels. β They think the human conflict will grant them the power they need to break your defenses. But you must wait, giving them time to position themselves thinking there will be an advantage to seize. If you strike too soon, it will only lengthen the stalemate. β
Gabriel nodded, fingering the hilt of the sword hanging from his belt. β We will wait. But when they think themselves inviolate, the Host will end this war once and for all. β
β Then my part is done, β she said, bowing.
β Take your ease. You have done well. β
She smiled and floated out of the cloud, leaving the angelic war council to make their final plans. When she was outside in the sky, she teleported home and assumed her true form.
β Honey, is that you? β
β Yes, β she called, stretching her arms over her head. Here, in her own space, she didn β t have to posture and could assume the form she preferred. Which was a simple human woman, with comfortable casual clothes.
β Dinner β s almost ready. How was your day? β
β Pretty good, β Eisbeth said, padding barefoot toward the kitchen and the delicious smells emanating from it.
β You seem happy, β James said, turning as she rounded the corner. Her husband, a mortal she was foolishly fond of, was just setting a tray of lasagna on the counter, fresh from the oven.
β I had a *very* good day, β she said, stepping close enough to slip her arms around his shoulders. His went around her waist. She smiled as pressed herself against him, enjoying the contact. Simple pleasures were often the best, she β d found.
β How good? β
β Well, let β s just say the power off this should see you and me safely through the end of the century. β She could already feel all that building confidence, all that expectation of victory and success from the misled combatants, flooding into her. And the best was yet to come. Power and then some, more than enough for her purposes. β At least. Come on, let β s eat. That smells amazing. β
| <s>[INST] A demon decides it does n't want to create human suffering anymore and switches tactics . Little does it know it creates the worst suffering of all , forever written in demon history as the most savage and cruel demon that ever lived . The demons name ? Hope [/INST] β Oh my poor John, β Eisbeth said, closing the door behind her. She rushed across the chamber to the man who hung from the chains in the middle of the room. Blood ebbed and oozed from his most recent wounds, softening the scabs of older ones as it dripped down his torn flesh. He was breathing, but didn β t stir. Not even when she touched his arm on one of the few spots that wasn β t lacerated, bruised, or broken.
β John. John? β
He didn β t move. She sighed and placed her hand on his forehead. Energy appeared, wispy and ethereal; surrounding her hand and his head both. As she concentrated, the flows of white and gold began submerging into the man β s skin. Probing deeper. Spreading out across his broken form as it hung from the chains. Finally he groaned.
β John? β
His eyes fluttered open, and she smiled as they focused on her. Carefully she lowered her hand to his cheek. The energy began fading as he took a deep breath that shuddered with effort. And rattled around in his chest painfully.
β John? Hi, hello, β Eisbeth said, caressing his face. β Remember me? β
β Elizabeth? β
β Close enough, β she said, very carefully not shrugging.
β You need to β¦ get out of here, β John wheezed. β Just run. Before they come back. They β ll take you. Torture you. β
β I β m here to help you, β she said.
β No β¦ run. β
β Shhh, it β s fine, β she said, patting his cheek tenderly. β They β re busy with something else. I β m here to help. β
β How? β
β I got in touch with your people. They β ll be coming to get you out. All you have to do is hold on. Can you do that for me? For them? Hold on a little longer? β
He blinked against a trickle of blood that was descending through one of his eyebrows. She smeared it away with her thumb, before it could start exploring his eye. β The Agency? β he asked.
β Yes, the Agency. They β re already on their way. It β ll just take them some doing to fight through the outer defenses. So, whatever these bastards do to you, just hang on a little longer. And everything will be okay. β
He nodded, the barest of movements; but she saw it. There was a glow of acknowledgement in his tired eyes as he met hers. β They won β t break me. β
β Good, β she nodded, then looked over her shoulder. β I β ve got to hide. Before they come back. So I β m ready to open the inner security layers up when your people are in position. β
β Go, β he said, sagging against the chains. But his eyes stayed open, like he was diverting most of his energy into them. Instead of his body. β Don β t worry about me. β
β Okay. Stay strong, β Eisbeth said, patting his cheek again. β I love you. β
β I love you. β
She walked around behind him. Her form shimmered abruptly, and by the time she walked through the wall like it wasn β t there her blonde hair and voluptuous curves had become brunette and a harder, leaner, slimmer body. In the hallway on the other side of the torture chamber, she straightened her beret and walked briskly until she reached a doorway that stood open.
β Well? β
β He β ll talk, β Eisbeth told the man who β d turned to her. He was the only one standing; everyone else present was seated around a table, studying a map. They all wore berets identical to hers, though that was the only uniformity in their attire. Which ranged from a mishmash of military fatigues to simple jeans and shirts.
β You β re sure? β
She nodded. β I am. You might have to step up your efforts on him, maybe get really creatively cruel, but he β ll talk. β
β Good, β the man said, clenching his fist. β Then we β ll have the location of their headquarters, and can strike directly at them. β
β Power to the people, β Eisbeth said, clenching her own fist.
β Power to the people! β everyone in the room immediately echoed.
β One issue. He got a warning out, just before you captured him. You should step up your security and defense patrols, just in case his people come looking to retrieve him. β
β They will not penetrate this base unless they β re prepared to level the city. β
β I just thought you should know everything. β
β Good work, β the man told her with a nod.
β That β s why I take the tough ones, β she said, smiling. β Speaking of which, I need to return a call to the Sacramento cell. They β ve got a tough one of their own. β
β Go. We β re fine here. β
She nodded and left the room. In the hallway, she looked around, then closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was in a different hallway. Her clothing had changed to a crisp uniform, beribboned and hung with rank insignia. She straightened her name tag, then strode toward the nearest corner. Turning left, she walked down to a set of double doors at the end, guarded by a pair of identically uniformed guards. They nodded to her; one opening the doors.
β General. β
β Major Ells, β a tall woman with four stars on her shoulder boards said after she turned and glanced at Eisbeth. β We β re ready to go in. Do you have a location for us? β
β It β s easier if I just mark it, β she said, gesturing at the big screen on the wall. β There are a number of checkpoints and hidden entrances that you β ll need to cover. β
β Please, β the general said, waving her arm at a console next to her.
Eisbeth leaned over the console, expertly manipulating the controls. The map on the big screen shifted, and zoomed in to encompass a smaller area. Icons began lighting on it; just under half of the actual entrances and checkpoints that guarded the rebels β secured areas. She finally straightened and looked at the general. β Be prepared for heavy resistance. But if you move quickly, I think you should be able to take them by surprise. Before they realize they β re unprepared. β
β I have units standing by now. We β ll break that cell, and that β ll end the resistance in this entire sector. Good work Major. β
Eisbeth nodded and saluted. β I β d better get back, before they suspect I β ve left. β
The general nodded, turning to one of her aides. Eisbeth left the command center and walked around the corner. Once out of sight, she closed her eyes again. This time she opened them to a fire strewn landscape filled with wind swept wailing, bloody rocks, and open pits filled with shattered corpses. A trio of heavy winged demons stood looking into a roaring bonfire being stoked by a dozen enslaved souls; studying the images suspended in the flames.
β Valoc. β
All three demons turned, and they smiled. β Eisbeth. Is it ready? β
β It is. The resistance should become open war within the hour. β Her clothing had vanished, leaving only tightly folded leathery wings, ebony scales, and horns that had been carved with dozens of mystical symbols. She walked toward them, her hooved feet crunching across the bones of countless prior fallen mortals.
β Yes, β the shortest of the demons said, clenching his clawed fingers into a fist the size of a good sized dog. β Thousands of fresh souls to feed the forges. β
β And the Heavenly Hosts won β t know what hit them when we bring that power to bear upon then. Finally the stalemate will be shattered, β the second demon said, grinning toothily.
β Thank you Eisbeth. β
β Hail Satan, β she said bowing low.
β Leave us. Your task is complete. β
She nodded, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she looked around at the vast expanse of white she now floated amid. Her heavy demonic form had softened to the gentler, less aggressive lines of a seraphim. Unfolding her wings, now feathered, she flew over to a particularly large cloud, and entered it.
β Hope, welcome, β a melodic male voice said as she passed through the cloud wall.
β Gabriel, it is done, β she said, alighting next to the cluster of angels. β They think the human conflict will grant them the power they need to break your defenses. But you must wait, giving them time to position themselves thinking there will be an advantage to seize. If you strike too soon, it will only lengthen the stalemate. β
Gabriel nodded, fingering the hilt of the sword hanging from his belt. β We will wait. But when they think themselves inviolate, the Host will end this war once and for all. β
β Then my part is done, β she said, bowing.
β Take your ease. You have done well. β
She smiled and floated out of the cloud, leaving the angelic war council to make their final plans. When she was outside in the sky, she teleported home and assumed her true form.
β Honey, is that you? β
β Yes, β she called, stretching her arms over her head. Here, in her own space, she didn β t have to posture and could assume the form she preferred. Which was a simple human woman, with comfortable casual clothes.
β Dinner β s almost ready. How was your day? β
β Pretty good, β Eisbeth said, padding barefoot toward the kitchen and the delicious smells emanating from it.
β You seem happy, β James said, turning as she rounded the corner. Her husband, a mortal she was foolishly fond of, was just setting a tray of lasagna on the counter, fresh from the oven.
β I had a *very* good day, β she said, stepping close enough to slip her arms around his shoulders. His went around her waist. She smiled as pressed herself against him, enjoying the contact. Simple pleasures were often the best, she β d found.
β How good? β
β Well, let β s just say the power off this should see you and me safely through the end of the century. β She could already feel all that building confidence, all that expectation of victory and success from the misled combatants, flooding into her. And the best was yet to come. Power and then some, more than enough for her purposes. β At least. Come on, let β s eat. That smells amazing. β
</s> |
( no prompts today so wordplay ) | Rap Battle : ESL Edition
| All 4 of these are fuckin' hilarious. I felt bad about not throwing some words up, so here's my Estonian rapper.
Yo, shit sonny, I got versace tunics in closet while you got nothing to wear,
Your family poorer than soviet farmer because your mother is ho without plowshare,
I give her razor to shave, how you think my Russian hat is made of beaver hair?
Some kind of snare? No, hat is like you, come from her coochie,
Pick your mom up in beamer, use camera on dash board to capture smoochie smoochie,
Upload to Live Leak or YouTube, then gets upvoted to frontpage of Reddit,
I'm so gifted the cream of the crop only rises to the top if I let it.
| <s>[INST] ( no prompts today so wordplay ) | Rap Battle : ESL Edition [/INST] All 4 of these are fuckin' hilarious. I felt bad about not throwing some words up, so here's my Estonian rapper.
Yo, shit sonny, I got versace tunics in closet while you got nothing to wear,
Your family poorer than soviet farmer because your mother is ho without plowshare,
I give her razor to shave, how you think my Russian hat is made of beaver hair?
Some kind of snare? No, hat is like you, come from her coochie,
Pick your mom up in beamer, use camera on dash board to capture smoochie smoochie,
Upload to Live Leak or YouTube, then gets upvoted to frontpage of Reddit,
I'm so gifted the cream of the crop only rises to the top if I let it.
</s> |
[ WP ] A Man awakes in an alley with a mild head injury , in the middle of a small scale riot that seems to have overwhelmed the local police force .
| Bright. Too bright. Ow. Ow. Ow ow wow ow oowwwwwwwwww
Jesus why are my ears ringing so hard?
Hold on, run the typical checklist
Lights overbearingly bright?
Check.
Head pounding to the point of extreme agony?
Check.
Nausea? All around terrible feelings?
Despair?
Check.
Ok seems it β s only the usual ailment, I β m just wickedly hungover
Damn isn β t it like Tuesday though?
If I don β t quit hanging around Mark and his girlfriend I swear I β ll get cirrhosis of the liver. Those guys are downright alcoholics.
I β m just a drunk though, aren β t I?
I roll over and the sunlight pierces my corneas through my closed eyelids and I moan out in pain.
Where the fuck am I? Hell I usually make it home, or at least nearby.
Water. Got ta find water. Dehydration is hell in this heat. Even fish don β t drink like me.
These days anyway.
Not since the protests started.
Hell I β ve got to be drunk to get any sleep around here lately.
People acting a damn fool all day and night.
Won β t just go to work and do their job.
They β d rather wave their signs and shit than get anything done.
Not that I β m entirely against laziness,
But Fuck at least do it right and shut the fuck up and stay out of the way
That β s what lazy fucks are supposed to do
Keeps shit lined out right.
FUCKING CHRIST WHAT IS ALL THAT NOISE??
Wait a second..
Is that..
Gunshots?
Opening my eyes against the blinding light I see that I β ve spent my slumbering hours in a small alley, wedged between too tall buildings, behind a dumpster, dirty but out of sight.
Not exactly a common resting place of mine, but I β m no stranger to these types of places either.
Yes that β s definitely gunshots.
But not like a shooting, not a mass murder or anything..
No that β s a firefight
Here?
Hell this towns too petty even for gangs.
The cops had shit pretty locked down I thought, why aren β t they out there mowing down the shooters?
I stand up, albeit with a bit of difficulty, and stagger my way around the corner, to see the biggest surprise I β d encountered so far that year.
I mean yeah it was January first but still, the sight of a riot squad doing the back stepping rather than the protesters was quite a sight.
It didn β t mean they β d won anything, hell no.
But it meant there no longer need be that level of fear for them.
No, it was the government who would soon know the fear that would grow within them.
How does this effect us working stiffs though? I mean hell I ain β t got much issue with how things was.
I lean against the corner, watching the chaos unfold, and scratch my head as I ponder my place in this mess.
My head is bleeding. What the fuck.
I reach for my cell phone to call Mark, nothing would seem out of the ordinary here, him picking me up in the middle of a decent sized riot, bleeding from the head, in some random alley, but my phone is gone.
So is my wallet.
I quickly turn an about face and muster up all the power I could to get the fuck away from this insanity steadily growing behind my back.
I had to get home and watch the news quickly
I had to learn what was going on.
And besides, the viewing of our daily government aired programming was required was it not?
| <s>[INST] A Man awakes in an alley with a mild head injury , in the middle of a small scale riot that seems to have overwhelmed the local police force . [/INST] Bright. Too bright. Ow. Ow. Ow ow wow ow oowwwwwwwwww
Jesus why are my ears ringing so hard?
Hold on, run the typical checklist
Lights overbearingly bright?
Check.
Head pounding to the point of extreme agony?
Check.
Nausea? All around terrible feelings?
Despair?
Check.
Ok seems it β s only the usual ailment, I β m just wickedly hungover
Damn isn β t it like Tuesday though?
If I don β t quit hanging around Mark and his girlfriend I swear I β ll get cirrhosis of the liver. Those guys are downright alcoholics.
I β m just a drunk though, aren β t I?
I roll over and the sunlight pierces my corneas through my closed eyelids and I moan out in pain.
Where the fuck am I? Hell I usually make it home, or at least nearby.
Water. Got ta find water. Dehydration is hell in this heat. Even fish don β t drink like me.
These days anyway.
Not since the protests started.
Hell I β ve got to be drunk to get any sleep around here lately.
People acting a damn fool all day and night.
Won β t just go to work and do their job.
They β d rather wave their signs and shit than get anything done.
Not that I β m entirely against laziness,
But Fuck at least do it right and shut the fuck up and stay out of the way
That β s what lazy fucks are supposed to do
Keeps shit lined out right.
FUCKING CHRIST WHAT IS ALL THAT NOISE??
Wait a second..
Is that..
Gunshots?
Opening my eyes against the blinding light I see that I β ve spent my slumbering hours in a small alley, wedged between too tall buildings, behind a dumpster, dirty but out of sight.
Not exactly a common resting place of mine, but I β m no stranger to these types of places either.
Yes that β s definitely gunshots.
But not like a shooting, not a mass murder or anything..
No that β s a firefight
Here?
Hell this towns too petty even for gangs.
The cops had shit pretty locked down I thought, why aren β t they out there mowing down the shooters?
I stand up, albeit with a bit of difficulty, and stagger my way around the corner, to see the biggest surprise I β d encountered so far that year.
I mean yeah it was January first but still, the sight of a riot squad doing the back stepping rather than the protesters was quite a sight.
It didn β t mean they β d won anything, hell no.
But it meant there no longer need be that level of fear for them.
No, it was the government who would soon know the fear that would grow within them.
How does this effect us working stiffs though? I mean hell I ain β t got much issue with how things was.
I lean against the corner, watching the chaos unfold, and scratch my head as I ponder my place in this mess.
My head is bleeding. What the fuck.
I reach for my cell phone to call Mark, nothing would seem out of the ordinary here, him picking me up in the middle of a decent sized riot, bleeding from the head, in some random alley, but my phone is gone.
So is my wallet.
I quickly turn an about face and muster up all the power I could to get the fuck away from this insanity steadily growing behind my back.
I had to get home and watch the news quickly
I had to learn what was going on.
And besides, the viewing of our daily government aired programming was required was it not?
</s> |
[ WP ] Humanity is about to engage in their first space battle ever .
| ``... For years mankind fought nature to leave the Earth. Now they fight to return.''
The intercom buzzed and went silent. Second Lieutenant MacDow layed on his bunk, rotating a coin between his fingers. NASA had known about the worm hole just beyond Mars. The ship named Cosmos, after the Carl Sagan series, had just passed the red planet when they floated into it. But after that all contact was lost; now they were on their way to the Wormhole, which they should be arriving at withing the next week. The intercom buzzed again, MacDow sat up and went to his pod door, still fidgeting with the coin. `` Hello?'' He said, pressing his finger to the green button by the door.
`` Sir, it's Warrant Officer Benal. Captain Zuluaga would like you at the bridge.''
`` Thank you, Warrant.''
Grabbing his cover and putting the quarter in his pocket he left for the bridge, marching at as reasonable pace he could in the odd simulated gravity.
_
He came to the large reinforced door labeled `` B-1'' which led to the command deck of the bridge. He entered the reasonably sized room and halted, saluting as he did. `` Sir, Second Lieutenant MacDow, reporting.'' The captain returning the salute spoke in a broken, and barely audible voice.
`` Lieutenant, something has exited the wormhole. You were brought on board as a communications expert.'' The Captain stopped.
`` Is it the Cosmos?'' MacDow asked, both shocked and hopeful.
`` We do n't know, that is where you come in. We need to open comms and figure out who the hell this is. We hardly understand the mechanics of how this wormhole works, let alone where our people are.'' The captain sat in a chair by the command module. You have three days before we are passed them, and we can not easily turn a ship this size around to catch up if they are n't friendly. You may use this station and any available resources to talk to them.''
`` Sir.'' MacDow gave an affirming nod and saluted as the Captain left. He began his work beginning with the simplest communications the ship had. Morse, on an AM frequency.
_
It had been two days and nothing so far had worked. MacDow had even tried broadcasting using electromagnetic pulses in an ASCII coding. He placed his hands in his head when the ship rocked. He stood up as alarms began blaring. He pulled up the asteroid map and scanned it for any strays that could have hit. Nothing. Another shudder of the ship keeled him over. The external comms suddenly flared up, he opened the channel to all of command and decoded the message being sent as quickly as he could. It was a complex substitution cypher done over an FM broadcast of some kind. He guessed the key was Cosmos as the way the broadcast came in was secure. It worked. The computer blurted out part of the unscrambled message. `` *Turn back, it*-'' the broadcast cut out as the power shut down on the bridge.
__
The window covers open revealing mars, eclipsed by the hole into which the ship was plummeting. This was all wrong though; the hole was too close. Something was wrong. The ship fell into the hole and out the other side. 2Lt MacDow looked out in awe and horror; the craft had gone through the hole and appeared to a massive star in front of them, the sillouette of massive ships, a crumbling husk of a planet, and the dormant remains of the Cosmos. There was no way to track where they were, or call for help, they had to turn around. Humanity depended on it.
| <s>[INST] Humanity is about to engage in their first space battle ever . [/INST] ``... For years mankind fought nature to leave the Earth. Now they fight to return.''
The intercom buzzed and went silent. Second Lieutenant MacDow layed on his bunk, rotating a coin between his fingers. NASA had known about the worm hole just beyond Mars. The ship named Cosmos, after the Carl Sagan series, had just passed the red planet when they floated into it. But after that all contact was lost; now they were on their way to the Wormhole, which they should be arriving at withing the next week. The intercom buzzed again, MacDow sat up and went to his pod door, still fidgeting with the coin. `` Hello?'' He said, pressing his finger to the green button by the door.
`` Sir, it's Warrant Officer Benal. Captain Zuluaga would like you at the bridge.''
`` Thank you, Warrant.''
Grabbing his cover and putting the quarter in his pocket he left for the bridge, marching at as reasonable pace he could in the odd simulated gravity.
_
He came to the large reinforced door labeled `` B-1'' which led to the command deck of the bridge. He entered the reasonably sized room and halted, saluting as he did. `` Sir, Second Lieutenant MacDow, reporting.'' The captain returning the salute spoke in a broken, and barely audible voice.
`` Lieutenant, something has exited the wormhole. You were brought on board as a communications expert.'' The Captain stopped.
`` Is it the Cosmos?'' MacDow asked, both shocked and hopeful.
`` We do n't know, that is where you come in. We need to open comms and figure out who the hell this is. We hardly understand the mechanics of how this wormhole works, let alone where our people are.'' The captain sat in a chair by the command module. You have three days before we are passed them, and we can not easily turn a ship this size around to catch up if they are n't friendly. You may use this station and any available resources to talk to them.''
`` Sir.'' MacDow gave an affirming nod and saluted as the Captain left. He began his work beginning with the simplest communications the ship had. Morse, on an AM frequency.
_
It had been two days and nothing so far had worked. MacDow had even tried broadcasting using electromagnetic pulses in an ASCII coding. He placed his hands in his head when the ship rocked. He stood up as alarms began blaring. He pulled up the asteroid map and scanned it for any strays that could have hit. Nothing. Another shudder of the ship keeled him over. The external comms suddenly flared up, he opened the channel to all of command and decoded the message being sent as quickly as he could. It was a complex substitution cypher done over an FM broadcast of some kind. He guessed the key was Cosmos as the way the broadcast came in was secure. It worked. The computer blurted out part of the unscrambled message. `` *Turn back, it*-'' the broadcast cut out as the power shut down on the bridge.
__
The window covers open revealing mars, eclipsed by the hole into which the ship was plummeting. This was all wrong though; the hole was too close. Something was wrong. The ship fell into the hole and out the other side. 2Lt MacDow looked out in awe and horror; the craft had gone through the hole and appeared to a massive star in front of them, the sillouette of massive ships, a crumbling husk of a planet, and the dormant remains of the Cosmos. There was no way to track where they were, or call for help, they had to turn around. Humanity depended on it.
</s> |
[ WP ] The symbol for Bluetooth is a Viking rune for a powerful being , but it takes a large amount of devices carrying the rune to summon him . You are unwittingly the final piece , as you pair your new wireless headphones to your phone .
| As I synced my smart house to the phone the Bluetooth symbol started to grow on my screen, everything in my home began to shake violently.he promised the new smart home would go off without a hitch. As it stopped abruptly the doorbell rings. I open the door to find a a baby. And a note.the note reads you have been selected to raise the reincarnte of the thunder God Thor, flipping to the back of the card the Bluetooth symbol..As I inspect the being i notice he has a tattoo with the word Mjnoir written on his bicep and on his chest something written in strange language. thinking to myself it's illegal to give babies tattoo's right. The baby giggles and as I cautiously go to pick it up it shocked me mercilessly, I started violently shaking realizing this just might be a immortal being or a really good prank.I go back to the door and notice the baby has grown noticeably into a young toddler. I escort him inside.my girlfriend is coming over for dinner Thor I guess. The little boy nods his head.as I check my phone I notice it's filled with strange symbols. Later I'll figure this out later
| <s>[INST] The symbol for Bluetooth is a Viking rune for a powerful being , but it takes a large amount of devices carrying the rune to summon him . You are unwittingly the final piece , as you pair your new wireless headphones to your phone . [/INST] As I synced my smart house to the phone the Bluetooth symbol started to grow on my screen, everything in my home began to shake violently.he promised the new smart home would go off without a hitch. As it stopped abruptly the doorbell rings. I open the door to find a a baby. And a note.the note reads you have been selected to raise the reincarnte of the thunder God Thor, flipping to the back of the card the Bluetooth symbol..As I inspect the being i notice he has a tattoo with the word Mjnoir written on his bicep and on his chest something written in strange language. thinking to myself it's illegal to give babies tattoo's right. The baby giggles and as I cautiously go to pick it up it shocked me mercilessly, I started violently shaking realizing this just might be a immortal being or a really good prank.I go back to the door and notice the baby has grown noticeably into a young toddler. I escort him inside.my girlfriend is coming over for dinner Thor I guess. The little boy nods his head.as I check my phone I notice it's filled with strange symbols. Later I'll figure this out later
</s> |
[ WP ] Baby boys are taken from their families at birth , and don β t return until their 20th birthday . No male has ever talked about what happens to them . Your brother has just returned .
| John walked in the door around midnight and sat down at the kitchen table. The look on his fact was blank and empty. I could see the resemblance between his face and mine and for a reason I did not understand, I started to cry.
Dad said `` we're glad you're home son. ``, but in a tone that I had never heard from him before. It was a mixture of sadness and something else that I could n't put my finger on. `` You can stay here as long as you like. There is food in the refrigerator and we've made a bed for you in the den.''
Then, looking at us all, John said `` I ca n't stay. I have to report back to base. Do n't leave your house tomorrow and you will remain safe.''
| <s>[INST] Baby boys are taken from their families at birth , and don β t return until their 20th birthday . No male has ever talked about what happens to them . Your brother has just returned . [/INST] John walked in the door around midnight and sat down at the kitchen table. The look on his fact was blank and empty. I could see the resemblance between his face and mine and for a reason I did not understand, I started to cry.
Dad said `` we're glad you're home son. ``, but in a tone that I had never heard from him before. It was a mixture of sadness and something else that I could n't put my finger on. `` You can stay here as long as you like. There is food in the refrigerator and we've made a bed for you in the den.''
Then, looking at us all, John said `` I ca n't stay. I have to report back to base. Do n't leave your house tomorrow and you will remain safe.''
</s> |
[ WP ] You live in a world where magic exists , however , you must sacrifice a memory in order to cast a spell . The more memories , or the more precious a memory , the more powerful the magic . You just woke up with no memory save a name .
| It β s a cold, dreary winter day. A drizzling rain forms a clouded film over a busy-city street. Some college students can be seen levitating under their umbrellas in the horizon. Others can be seen either casually hovering down the sidewalks or running hurriedly. One boy covers a girl in a big thin bubble, shielding her from the rain. Cars leave behind fluorescent trails of their headlights as they whip by with towering buildings stretching into the expanse. At an intersection, water patters beneath cars as their tires come to a gradual halt.
On the corner of an intersection lies a man slouching over on his side, face slightly obscured by the hood of his brown-and-black checkered, loose-fitting sweatshirt. He dangles a hand over his face as he shivers violently from the cold. He snaps his fingers, emitting a small spark. Nothing comes of it.
β Ha. Figures. β
In this world where memories fuel magic, there are a lot of these people scattered throughout the city; vagabonds, they call them. The only thing they can recall is their name, and that β s if they β re lucky.
The man coils into a fetus position. β Doo, doo. Doo-doo, doo-doo-doooo.... doo, β he hums as he twirls a finger in the air.
β Aaah, that β s not quite right. β
β Doo-Doo. Doo-doo-dooβ, β he grunts, sinking the same finger onto the sidewalk.
On the floor beside him stands a foam cup. One of his hands lazily falls somewhere near the cup while his fingers trace the cement floor back and forth. His tattered blue jeans are damp from the rain. The sea of people surrounding the man make no efforts at acknowledging his existence, not that he even cares. He continues to be flustered over the tune he β s humming.
At the other end of the street, a young slender boy of college age claps his heels, bending slightly forward while covering the floor beneath him in a trail of ice. He sports black low-top sneakers, a black bubble jacket, a white-and-black striped scarf, and some faded blue jeans. The boy β s emerald-green eyes beamed outward from beneath his brown, shaggy hair. He glides atop the trail, scarf blowing in the wind.
He arrives at the corner of the intersection in record time, but not before slamming face first into the pillar of a building.
β Oof, I really have to get better at that. β
He gets up, brushing the fall off. For a second, he catches a figure on the floor of the sidewalk. His eyes glaze over the figure of the frail homeless man, still coiled into a fetus position while humming.
The boy looks side-to-side at the people surrounding them, but no one looks back.
He hesitates for a second, just before reaching out into his backpack to pull out a notebook. He sets it right beside the homeless man β s body.
The boy snaps his fingers, releasing a lively fire from the tips. He carefully extends the fire to the edge of the notebook until it β s swallowed by the flames. The man stops humming, looking up at the fire when suddenly, their eyes meet.
From within the man β s weathered and sunken face, a pair of green-emerald eyes pierced through.
Immediately, a sharp pang is felt within the boy β s chest. He clutches his chest, feeling the moisture at the corner of his eyes gathering, but he can β t fathom as to why.
And for a while, no one talked. They sat there, wide-eyed and fixed onto each other β s gaze.
Then, the man hesitantly extended a finger, tracing the contour of the boy β s face and proceeding to hum; hum a tune he had once forgotten.
| <s>[INST] You live in a world where magic exists , however , you must sacrifice a memory in order to cast a spell . The more memories , or the more precious a memory , the more powerful the magic . You just woke up with no memory save a name . [/INST] It β s a cold, dreary winter day. A drizzling rain forms a clouded film over a busy-city street. Some college students can be seen levitating under their umbrellas in the horizon. Others can be seen either casually hovering down the sidewalks or running hurriedly. One boy covers a girl in a big thin bubble, shielding her from the rain. Cars leave behind fluorescent trails of their headlights as they whip by with towering buildings stretching into the expanse. At an intersection, water patters beneath cars as their tires come to a gradual halt.
On the corner of an intersection lies a man slouching over on his side, face slightly obscured by the hood of his brown-and-black checkered, loose-fitting sweatshirt. He dangles a hand over his face as he shivers violently from the cold. He snaps his fingers, emitting a small spark. Nothing comes of it.
β Ha. Figures. β
In this world where memories fuel magic, there are a lot of these people scattered throughout the city; vagabonds, they call them. The only thing they can recall is their name, and that β s if they β re lucky.
The man coils into a fetus position. β Doo, doo. Doo-doo, doo-doo-doooo.... doo, β he hums as he twirls a finger in the air.
β Aaah, that β s not quite right. β
β Doo-Doo. Doo-doo-dooβ, β he grunts, sinking the same finger onto the sidewalk.
On the floor beside him stands a foam cup. One of his hands lazily falls somewhere near the cup while his fingers trace the cement floor back and forth. His tattered blue jeans are damp from the rain. The sea of people surrounding the man make no efforts at acknowledging his existence, not that he even cares. He continues to be flustered over the tune he β s humming.
At the other end of the street, a young slender boy of college age claps his heels, bending slightly forward while covering the floor beneath him in a trail of ice. He sports black low-top sneakers, a black bubble jacket, a white-and-black striped scarf, and some faded blue jeans. The boy β s emerald-green eyes beamed outward from beneath his brown, shaggy hair. He glides atop the trail, scarf blowing in the wind.
He arrives at the corner of the intersection in record time, but not before slamming face first into the pillar of a building.
β Oof, I really have to get better at that. β
He gets up, brushing the fall off. For a second, he catches a figure on the floor of the sidewalk. His eyes glaze over the figure of the frail homeless man, still coiled into a fetus position while humming.
The boy looks side-to-side at the people surrounding them, but no one looks back.
He hesitates for a second, just before reaching out into his backpack to pull out a notebook. He sets it right beside the homeless man β s body.
The boy snaps his fingers, releasing a lively fire from the tips. He carefully extends the fire to the edge of the notebook until it β s swallowed by the flames. The man stops humming, looking up at the fire when suddenly, their eyes meet.
From within the man β s weathered and sunken face, a pair of green-emerald eyes pierced through.
Immediately, a sharp pang is felt within the boy β s chest. He clutches his chest, feeling the moisture at the corner of his eyes gathering, but he can β t fathom as to why.
And for a while, no one talked. They sat there, wide-eyed and fixed onto each other β s gaze.
Then, the man hesitantly extended a finger, tracing the contour of the boy β s face and proceeding to hum; hum a tune he had once forgotten.
</s> |
[ WP ] On Christmas Day , millions of families around the world notice that there are presents under the tree that they did n't buy for their children .
| β Mommy! Mamma! Wake up! It β s Christmas! β
I groaned loudly and rolled onto my back, opening my eyes to see our daughter Sarah jumping on our bed, her curly red hair bobbing up and down in mid-air as she shrieked, β it β s Christmas! It β s Christmas! β before pouncing on Jess. Jess let out a yelp before laughing and pulling her into a hug and giving her a noogie that further rumpled up her already-tangled mane of hair. I let out an exasperated sigh. It was going to be a bitch brushing those knots out.
When they broke apart, Sarah giggled before she scampered out of our room and down the stairs. Jessica then rolled over onto her side and grinned at me. β Wan na see what Santa left under the tree? β she teased.
I rolled my eyes, running a hand through my hair. β Jesus Christ, Jess, you β re thirty-six-years-old and you still believe in Santa? β
I, for one, never believed in Santa Claus. At least, not since my dad walked out on my mom thirty years ago. I still remember that year in perfect clarity. The screaming and fighting that took place as I huddled under the covers, praying that they would stop and we would be a happy family like all the others on the block. Then, just days before Christmas Eve, my own mother gently nudging me towards the fat man perched on his golden throne, surrounded by presents and the pimply teenagers dressed as elves who took up part-time jobs as his helpers. I can still remember climbing timidly onto his lap and being asked, β And what do you want for Christmas, little girl? β
And I looked up at him, with his big smiling blue eyes, and whimpered, β I want my mom and dad to stop fighting. It scares me. β Then seeing his big blue eyes take on a look that I couldn β t quite comprehend until years later, a frown forming beneath his bushy white beard before patting me on the back. β Everything is going to be alright, β he said before one of the teenaged elves hoisted me off his lap and pushed me towards the exit. Only Santa lied to my younger self. Everything didn β t go alright. Mom and Dad got into a massive fight on Christmas Eve. By the following morning, he had packed up a suitcase and left.
I never saw him again.
I stared up at the ceiling, only bothering to look over at my side to see Jessica sitting up and biting her lower lip. β I β m sorryβ¦ Iβ¦ I should have remembered that this time of year isn β t easy for you, β she babbled.
I shook my head. β It β s alrightβ¦ I β m overβ¦ β
My words were drowned out by a loud squeal coming from the den downstairs.
β Sarah? β We both shouted in unison. We scrambled out of bed, me still in my nightgown and Jess yanking on a robe over her sports bra and boxer shorts, tying the cord around her waist. We sprinted down the stairs together and stumbled into the den, scared of what we might find waiting in the room with our little girl.
Instead, we found Sarah, standing before the Christmas tree with the biggest, happiest grin on her face we β ve seen since we adopted her three years ago.
Then she ran to us and wrapped her tiny arms around our legs. β Thank you, β she shrieked. β Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! β
I patted Sarah β s head and Jess gave her a kiss on the brow before we looked up.
What we saw standing amidst the mountains of wrapped presents in cheery wrapping paper was a goddamn pony.
______
β What the shit, Jessica? A pony? β I shouted, slamming my fist down the table.
Jessica β s hands flew up in a defensive stance. β Me? I thought you bought the pony? β she shouted.
β How can I afford a pony on my teaching salary, β I retorted. This was true. High school science teachers were paid in peanuts. And Jess β s salary as a personal trainer wasn β t any better. I slunk further deeper into my chair, gripping my hair in my hands. β Shit, what are we going to do? β
β Where are we going to put it? A condo β s no place for a pony, β Jess sighed. We looked out the bay window of the dining room to see Sarah standing on our front lawn, brushing the pony β s blonde mane with her hairbrush and feeding it a carrot. β I don β t want to disappoint her by telling her we can β t keep it. Not on Christmas Day. β
β Me neither, β I muttered. Just because the holiday season was ruined for me as a kid didn β t mean I wanted Sarah to endure the same ordeal. She had been babbling about how much she wanted a pony, ever since one of her preschool classmates had her birthday party at a horse riding ranch the previous summer. Her brain had been firmly planted in Equestri-mania for the last six months. When we took her to see a mall Santa the week before, she told him how she wanted her very own pony.
β Do you know anyone with a stable? β I asked. β Maybe an uncle or someone can take it in until we figure out what to do?''
Jess shook her head. β My family disowned me after I came out. Remember? β
I let out a sigh. β Okay, maybe I can look up local stables. Someone in the tri-county area is bound to help us out. β
β Yeah. Let me get my laptop and see what we do about that. β Jess nodded towards the window. Sarah was now braiding the pony β s mane.
I got out my laptop and began looking through stables in the area. Jess also logged onto her laptop. After an hour of searching, broken up periodically to check up on Sarah and the pony she had now christened β Princess β, Jess waved me over.
β You will not believe what I found, β she said, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
I peered over her shoulder and what I saw on the front page of the forum Jess liked to visit when she wanted to goof around made me gasp.
There were pages upon pages of posts, photographs, and video uploaded by parents around the world, shocked that they woke up on Christmas morning to find presents under the tree that they claimed they never bought for their children. There were grinning kids and bewildered moms and dads posing with ponies like Princess, toy robots, expensive Lego sets and Barbie Dream Houses, guns both real and fake. Some kid in Australia wanted uranium and got a tin of the real deal! There were news articles of family members and random children turning up dead. More of other parents, deployed at military bases and warzones oceans away, suddenly showing up on doorsteps and driveways Christmas morning looking just as confused while their children ran up to them with arms wide open. Couples who had split up were suddenly reunited.
β What the everlovingβ¦ β Jess mouthed over my phone β s marimba ringtone. I glanced down at the phone, which was vibrating on the table. I picked it up with trembling hands and noticed that I had a incoming call from my mom.
I pressed the call button. β Uhβ¦ hi, Mom, β I said in a shaking voice. β Merryβ¦ β
β Annie, you will not believe what just happened, β Mom interrupted, her voice sounding ever so clear and close despite being a thousand miles away. β But the strangest thing happened this morning. β
β What is it? β
β Your dadβ¦ heβ¦ he came back. Heβ¦ he says he β s changed. Went to rehab and got clean. Been so for fifteen years. He wants to try and make this work out again. β
I glanced over at Jess, who was now staring at me with wide eyes.
What the shit was going on?
_____
I do n't have a personal subreddit. But I do appreciate feedback.
| <s>[INST] On Christmas Day , millions of families around the world notice that there are presents under the tree that they did n't buy for their children . [/INST] β Mommy! Mamma! Wake up! It β s Christmas! β
I groaned loudly and rolled onto my back, opening my eyes to see our daughter Sarah jumping on our bed, her curly red hair bobbing up and down in mid-air as she shrieked, β it β s Christmas! It β s Christmas! β before pouncing on Jess. Jess let out a yelp before laughing and pulling her into a hug and giving her a noogie that further rumpled up her already-tangled mane of hair. I let out an exasperated sigh. It was going to be a bitch brushing those knots out.
When they broke apart, Sarah giggled before she scampered out of our room and down the stairs. Jessica then rolled over onto her side and grinned at me. β Wan na see what Santa left under the tree? β she teased.
I rolled my eyes, running a hand through my hair. β Jesus Christ, Jess, you β re thirty-six-years-old and you still believe in Santa? β
I, for one, never believed in Santa Claus. At least, not since my dad walked out on my mom thirty years ago. I still remember that year in perfect clarity. The screaming and fighting that took place as I huddled under the covers, praying that they would stop and we would be a happy family like all the others on the block. Then, just days before Christmas Eve, my own mother gently nudging me towards the fat man perched on his golden throne, surrounded by presents and the pimply teenagers dressed as elves who took up part-time jobs as his helpers. I can still remember climbing timidly onto his lap and being asked, β And what do you want for Christmas, little girl? β
And I looked up at him, with his big smiling blue eyes, and whimpered, β I want my mom and dad to stop fighting. It scares me. β Then seeing his big blue eyes take on a look that I couldn β t quite comprehend until years later, a frown forming beneath his bushy white beard before patting me on the back. β Everything is going to be alright, β he said before one of the teenaged elves hoisted me off his lap and pushed me towards the exit. Only Santa lied to my younger self. Everything didn β t go alright. Mom and Dad got into a massive fight on Christmas Eve. By the following morning, he had packed up a suitcase and left.
I never saw him again.
I stared up at the ceiling, only bothering to look over at my side to see Jessica sitting up and biting her lower lip. β I β m sorryβ¦ Iβ¦ I should have remembered that this time of year isn β t easy for you, β she babbled.
I shook my head. β It β s alrightβ¦ I β m overβ¦ β
My words were drowned out by a loud squeal coming from the den downstairs.
β Sarah? β We both shouted in unison. We scrambled out of bed, me still in my nightgown and Jess yanking on a robe over her sports bra and boxer shorts, tying the cord around her waist. We sprinted down the stairs together and stumbled into the den, scared of what we might find waiting in the room with our little girl.
Instead, we found Sarah, standing before the Christmas tree with the biggest, happiest grin on her face we β ve seen since we adopted her three years ago.
Then she ran to us and wrapped her tiny arms around our legs. β Thank you, β she shrieked. β Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! β
I patted Sarah β s head and Jess gave her a kiss on the brow before we looked up.
What we saw standing amidst the mountains of wrapped presents in cheery wrapping paper was a goddamn pony.
______
β What the shit, Jessica? A pony? β I shouted, slamming my fist down the table.
Jessica β s hands flew up in a defensive stance. β Me? I thought you bought the pony? β she shouted.
β How can I afford a pony on my teaching salary, β I retorted. This was true. High school science teachers were paid in peanuts. And Jess β s salary as a personal trainer wasn β t any better. I slunk further deeper into my chair, gripping my hair in my hands. β Shit, what are we going to do? β
β Where are we going to put it? A condo β s no place for a pony, β Jess sighed. We looked out the bay window of the dining room to see Sarah standing on our front lawn, brushing the pony β s blonde mane with her hairbrush and feeding it a carrot. β I don β t want to disappoint her by telling her we can β t keep it. Not on Christmas Day. β
β Me neither, β I muttered. Just because the holiday season was ruined for me as a kid didn β t mean I wanted Sarah to endure the same ordeal. She had been babbling about how much she wanted a pony, ever since one of her preschool classmates had her birthday party at a horse riding ranch the previous summer. Her brain had been firmly planted in Equestri-mania for the last six months. When we took her to see a mall Santa the week before, she told him how she wanted her very own pony.
β Do you know anyone with a stable? β I asked. β Maybe an uncle or someone can take it in until we figure out what to do?''
Jess shook her head. β My family disowned me after I came out. Remember? β
I let out a sigh. β Okay, maybe I can look up local stables. Someone in the tri-county area is bound to help us out. β
β Yeah. Let me get my laptop and see what we do about that. β Jess nodded towards the window. Sarah was now braiding the pony β s mane.
I got out my laptop and began looking through stables in the area. Jess also logged onto her laptop. After an hour of searching, broken up periodically to check up on Sarah and the pony she had now christened β Princess β, Jess waved me over.
β You will not believe what I found, β she said, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
I peered over her shoulder and what I saw on the front page of the forum Jess liked to visit when she wanted to goof around made me gasp.
There were pages upon pages of posts, photographs, and video uploaded by parents around the world, shocked that they woke up on Christmas morning to find presents under the tree that they claimed they never bought for their children. There were grinning kids and bewildered moms and dads posing with ponies like Princess, toy robots, expensive Lego sets and Barbie Dream Houses, guns both real and fake. Some kid in Australia wanted uranium and got a tin of the real deal! There were news articles of family members and random children turning up dead. More of other parents, deployed at military bases and warzones oceans away, suddenly showing up on doorsteps and driveways Christmas morning looking just as confused while their children ran up to them with arms wide open. Couples who had split up were suddenly reunited.
β What the everlovingβ¦ β Jess mouthed over my phone β s marimba ringtone. I glanced down at the phone, which was vibrating on the table. I picked it up with trembling hands and noticed that I had a incoming call from my mom.
I pressed the call button. β Uhβ¦ hi, Mom, β I said in a shaking voice. β Merryβ¦ β
β Annie, you will not believe what just happened, β Mom interrupted, her voice sounding ever so clear and close despite being a thousand miles away. β But the strangest thing happened this morning. β
β What is it? β
β Your dadβ¦ heβ¦ he came back. Heβ¦ he says he β s changed. Went to rehab and got clean. Been so for fifteen years. He wants to try and make this work out again. β
I glanced over at Jess, who was now staring at me with wide eyes.
What the shit was going on?
_____
I do n't have a personal subreddit. But I do appreciate feedback.
</s> |
[ WP ] After centuries of doing his job , one devil is fed up
| Hey guys this is my first ever submission and writing prompt idea from scratch, please be gentle hope you enjoy and leave feedback.
It was the morning of September the 2nd 2014, I was sitting across from him as he had his mind troubled about the out of town meeting he had later on that night. His thoughts got interrupted with her tender slow kiss on the back of his neck and on his cheek as she smiled and prepared breakfast for the kids. There he is I thought to myself, my job for the day, there's his family and here's everything that he has and everything that he wakes up to every morning.
Proud as he was from what happened from the meeting and how managed to get in the new clients for the company as that was the big foot in the door he desperately needed with his new boss he went out for drinks in the hotel bar with his co-workers and Aurelia. Before I knew it while I was sunk in my thoughts about Emelia, how she always tugged his tie to spend half a minute with him for one last kiss. Suddenly, I looked up and I here it was, Aurelia in the hallway with her black tight dress exposing her shoulders and neck with him standing in-front of her. He was a loyal old-fashioned man, but I knew what should be done as I whispered in his ear to steal the quickest glance of her bare smooth neck and shoulders as he was exchanging some small senseless tipsy talk about the bar setting and there it was Aurelia with her desire for him as she started rhythmically breathing harder for him to fill her emotional void and her attention need for him. He started slowing down the pace and slurring the words as he looked in her eyes and read that the desire being thrown at him, I slowly stood behind him and I knew I could n't use any of my cliches with him, but rather highlight how her shoulders and neck changed their size and shape whenever she took a breath for him and I whirled him in the simple fantasy of her sweet scent on his mouth and lips in the room behind the door she was leaning on. They both went silent and he stared for what seemed like forever even to me, as I saw him still and not backing away when she approached his face with hers, I knew I no longer did n't need to be there.
I never wanted to see Emelia like this, she was his home for 5 years. There she was back at her sister's apartment on the ground alone, silently shivering and tearing up on how her life would never be the same after what he did, I watched as I repeated in my head `` it was his choice it was his choice it was his choice''.
| <s>[INST] After centuries of doing his job , one devil is fed up [/INST] Hey guys this is my first ever submission and writing prompt idea from scratch, please be gentle hope you enjoy and leave feedback.
It was the morning of September the 2nd 2014, I was sitting across from him as he had his mind troubled about the out of town meeting he had later on that night. His thoughts got interrupted with her tender slow kiss on the back of his neck and on his cheek as she smiled and prepared breakfast for the kids. There he is I thought to myself, my job for the day, there's his family and here's everything that he has and everything that he wakes up to every morning.
Proud as he was from what happened from the meeting and how managed to get in the new clients for the company as that was the big foot in the door he desperately needed with his new boss he went out for drinks in the hotel bar with his co-workers and Aurelia. Before I knew it while I was sunk in my thoughts about Emelia, how she always tugged his tie to spend half a minute with him for one last kiss. Suddenly, I looked up and I here it was, Aurelia in the hallway with her black tight dress exposing her shoulders and neck with him standing in-front of her. He was a loyal old-fashioned man, but I knew what should be done as I whispered in his ear to steal the quickest glance of her bare smooth neck and shoulders as he was exchanging some small senseless tipsy talk about the bar setting and there it was Aurelia with her desire for him as she started rhythmically breathing harder for him to fill her emotional void and her attention need for him. He started slowing down the pace and slurring the words as he looked in her eyes and read that the desire being thrown at him, I slowly stood behind him and I knew I could n't use any of my cliches with him, but rather highlight how her shoulders and neck changed their size and shape whenever she took a breath for him and I whirled him in the simple fantasy of her sweet scent on his mouth and lips in the room behind the door she was leaning on. They both went silent and he stared for what seemed like forever even to me, as I saw him still and not backing away when she approached his face with hers, I knew I no longer did n't need to be there.
I never wanted to see Emelia like this, she was his home for 5 years. There she was back at her sister's apartment on the ground alone, silently shivering and tearing up on how her life would never be the same after what he did, I watched as I repeated in my head `` it was his choice it was his choice it was his choice''.
</s> |
[ WP ] You awaken to find most of your body has been replaced with prosthetic parts . As you adjust , you notice something wrong .
| **Kind of NSFW*
Bright lights bore down upon me, unable to stand them I squinted my eyes tightly, trying to get a view of my immediate surroundings.
`` Where am I'' I called out, remembering only a sliver of last night, I felt something immediately wrong as I realized that the creaking sound coming from underneath me was not my bed, but rather my arm.
At first is appeared as a think grey line crossing just over my elbow, upon closer inspection I realized that it split my forearm from my shoulder.
Falling out of the iron bed I had been placed on the horror of my situation was finally revealed. Small metal nails stuck out from every joint and each limb looked barely attached. What was even weirder, was that I was able to *move* them. Somehow finding the will to stand, I stood shakily, gripping the bed to keep myself stable. Bring the seemingly prosthetic hand close to my face I could see each individual finger as I clenched them into a fist and back again.
Only when I realized that I was naked did something strike fear deep into my heart, looking down I realized that I was lacking a very important *member* of my body.
*Please no* I whispered to myself, an odd mechanical tone aiding my natural voice. Reaching my hand down below I noticed a small hatch implanted in the center, reaching my finger inside I found a switch. Hesitantly flicking it up I could feel something growing.
A metallic rod slid out silently from its holding, like a snake ready to strike. I let out a sigh of relief, releasing the switch.
The rod had other ideas however,
It just kept extending, and extending, and extending.
| <s>[INST] You awaken to find most of your body has been replaced with prosthetic parts . As you adjust , you notice something wrong . [/INST] **Kind of NSFW*
Bright lights bore down upon me, unable to stand them I squinted my eyes tightly, trying to get a view of my immediate surroundings.
`` Where am I'' I called out, remembering only a sliver of last night, I felt something immediately wrong as I realized that the creaking sound coming from underneath me was not my bed, but rather my arm.
At first is appeared as a think grey line crossing just over my elbow, upon closer inspection I realized that it split my forearm from my shoulder.
Falling out of the iron bed I had been placed on the horror of my situation was finally revealed. Small metal nails stuck out from every joint and each limb looked barely attached. What was even weirder, was that I was able to *move* them. Somehow finding the will to stand, I stood shakily, gripping the bed to keep myself stable. Bring the seemingly prosthetic hand close to my face I could see each individual finger as I clenched them into a fist and back again.
Only when I realized that I was naked did something strike fear deep into my heart, looking down I realized that I was lacking a very important *member* of my body.
*Please no* I whispered to myself, an odd mechanical tone aiding my natural voice. Reaching my hand down below I noticed a small hatch implanted in the center, reaching my finger inside I found a switch. Hesitantly flicking it up I could feel something growing.
A metallic rod slid out silently from its holding, like a snake ready to strike. I let out a sigh of relief, releasing the switch.
The rod had other ideas however,
It just kept extending, and extending, and extending.
</s> |
[ WP ] Write the monologue of a sociopath .
| As a successful business man many keep asking me how i did it. I tell them what they want to hear and who can really blame me? Ive got to keep up appearances after all. It would n't do to drop the ball after this long. I had to push my way through the crowd to stand out and rise above. To say it just takes a bunch of hard work is only half of the story. My father was a silly and simple man, i see why mother left him. The trick was to not let anything phase me. Dont get complacent and let people drag you down. I had to start young too. I did everything i had to get where i am. It was just best to use anyone that would readily use me. Everyone tried to use me. It was easy.
| <s>[INST] Write the monologue of a sociopath . [/INST] As a successful business man many keep asking me how i did it. I tell them what they want to hear and who can really blame me? Ive got to keep up appearances after all. It would n't do to drop the ball after this long. I had to push my way through the crowd to stand out and rise above. To say it just takes a bunch of hard work is only half of the story. My father was a silly and simple man, i see why mother left him. The trick was to not let anything phase me. Dont get complacent and let people drag you down. I had to start young too. I did everything i had to get where i am. It was just best to use anyone that would readily use me. Everyone tried to use me. It was easy.
</s> |
[ WP ] Your daughter asks you to check and see if there 's a monster under her bed ... This time there actually is a monster .
| My daughter is a creative little bugger, no doubt about it. She gets it from her mom, definitely not me. Her room is filled with pages from her favorite coloring books, and her pre-school art projects. She loves her cartoons, and that's where a majority of my bonding time with her comes on. We both love watching cartoons. Anything funny, anything sad, we both share the same favorite shows, which is a rarity for a father and daughter.
One night before we went to bed, we decided to watch Pokemon: The First Movie on television. One of my favorites, as its something I grew up with and know plenty about. She loves listening to my long-winded explanations, which is great, because my wife does n't. Now, I've never looked at that movie as a horror film before, but in the eyes of a 4 year old little girl, Mewtwo is horrifying. She shifted uncomfortably through the whole movie, and cried her little eyes out when Ash was turned to stone. She spent most of the movie with her face buried in my chest, but when I offered to change it, she would n't let me. `` No, daddy, I'm having fun, its just scaaaary.'' I knew from that point that getting her to bed that night would n't be fun.
`` Daddy! Come quick!'' There was plenty of alarm in her voice. `` I think I hear something under my bed!'' I rush into the room, knowing that she's probably still a bit frightened from the movie.
`` Everything will be fine, I'm sure there's nothing there.'' I reach under the bed and reach around, searching for anything under the bed that might be making a noise to frighten her, when suddenly I find a jacket. She stifles a giggle, but not quite well enough, because I notice. `` What're you laughing at?''
`` Daddy, look in the pocket!'' I reach my hand into the old jacket, and pull out a small action figure, of Mew, the Pokemon from the movie. `` Its a Pocket Monster!'' She laughs maniacally and points at me. `` I GOT YOU GOOD!'' She's a genius in her own mind.
`` Goodnight, sweety.'' I kiss her on the forehead and leave her alone to her laughter, and eventual sleep.
| <s>[INST] Your daughter asks you to check and see if there 's a monster under her bed ... This time there actually is a monster . [/INST] My daughter is a creative little bugger, no doubt about it. She gets it from her mom, definitely not me. Her room is filled with pages from her favorite coloring books, and her pre-school art projects. She loves her cartoons, and that's where a majority of my bonding time with her comes on. We both love watching cartoons. Anything funny, anything sad, we both share the same favorite shows, which is a rarity for a father and daughter.
One night before we went to bed, we decided to watch Pokemon: The First Movie on television. One of my favorites, as its something I grew up with and know plenty about. She loves listening to my long-winded explanations, which is great, because my wife does n't. Now, I've never looked at that movie as a horror film before, but in the eyes of a 4 year old little girl, Mewtwo is horrifying. She shifted uncomfortably through the whole movie, and cried her little eyes out when Ash was turned to stone. She spent most of the movie with her face buried in my chest, but when I offered to change it, she would n't let me. `` No, daddy, I'm having fun, its just scaaaary.'' I knew from that point that getting her to bed that night would n't be fun.
`` Daddy! Come quick!'' There was plenty of alarm in her voice. `` I think I hear something under my bed!'' I rush into the room, knowing that she's probably still a bit frightened from the movie.
`` Everything will be fine, I'm sure there's nothing there.'' I reach under the bed and reach around, searching for anything under the bed that might be making a noise to frighten her, when suddenly I find a jacket. She stifles a giggle, but not quite well enough, because I notice. `` What're you laughing at?''
`` Daddy, look in the pocket!'' I reach my hand into the old jacket, and pull out a small action figure, of Mew, the Pokemon from the movie. `` Its a Pocket Monster!'' She laughs maniacally and points at me. `` I GOT YOU GOOD!'' She's a genius in her own mind.
`` Goodnight, sweety.'' I kiss her on the forehead and leave her alone to her laughter, and eventual sleep.
</s> |
[ WP ] A very typical everyday plumber find himself sucked into a portal .
| `` Captain, Knight Ronalde reporting. I've brought the information as you requested.'' Saluting as the address began, the man who entered the room took up the tense position of one awaiting interrogation, straightening as he began his report. `` Another rift and another entry, this time Southern town Forles, just North of the Redstone territories.''
`` Alive?'' At the desk, a bespectacled man set down the parchment he'd been eyeing, noble-style reading glasses removed with a rough sigh. `` I'm guessing that's a *no, * is n't it?''
`` Unfortunately, Captain.'' Still at attention, Ronalde tried not to stare as his superior reached for the flask of amber, taking a hefty sip before standing with a gruff hiss of displeasure. It took little for him to notice that the room smelled strongly of spirits, or the second- much more empty flask sitting unattended on the floor. `` If I may, Sir-''
`` Fine, take me to it. Gods only know the Queen wo n't want us bringing the corpse in here.'' The Captain retrieved a rough looking contraption of wood and metal from beside the desk, slinging it over his shoulder to match the regal sword at his waist. `` Do you know the cause of death?''
`` Captain, reports say it was simply a bad landing. No fowl play suspected. The rift opened up thirty feet above the cobblestone... the results were... unpleasant.''
`` The poor bastard never had a chance.''
`` No sir. Likely dead on impact.''
`` Any other disturbances? Ripple effects?'' Objects of interest?''
`` Sir, some artifacts were recovered. Metal tools of some kind, and another mana-housing.'' Checking the parchment in hand, Ronalde took the lead lead, confirming. `` A small amount of water as well, reportedly. The Church Officials of the town were attempting to take the scene when we arrived, but the Royal crest backed them down.''
`` Did you recover everything?'' A rough gesture from the Captain signaled a post of armored guards waiting in the hall, an entourage began to form. Knights fell into step with rough clatter of plates and steel as the Captain continued down towards the heavy-set wooden doors. `` I want every object found, in all likelihood we're going to need them at some point.''
`` For the most part they've been recovered, although it's hard to say. The Church might have hidden some of them.'' Keeping pace, the Soldier fell back as the Captain slammed the doors open, going on ahead as two panicked attendants jumped back from the wide-swing. `` We were n't the first on scene.''
`` You'd really think the Church might lack the spine for that sort of thing nowadays.'' An angry growl sounded with the faintest hint of liquor as the Captain's pace increased, growing gaggle of Guards struggled to follow without forming to a trot in the hallways. `` After that god-damned bloody Sunday, you'd expect them to consider a bit more before trying anything.''
`` Aye Sir, you're right Sir! We'd all think it.'' The brisk reply came with a halt of movement, as the Captain zeroed in on the first room in the hall. `` But it's in the realm of possibilities, so-''
`` Hold on a moment- ROB!'' The Captain's shout echoed through the rafters as he knocked loudly on the smaller set of doors. `` Rob, get up!'' The knocking continued, relentlessly. `` I need you to lead a team, ASAP. If I have to come back here with a bucket of ice water, so help me god- I'll do it!''
*'' It's late! * A muffled voice replied, obviously irritated. *'' You had me running Body-guard for the Queen with that damn Elf of yours all day! Joe has the other set of keys, make him go! `` *
`` Rob, if the ice water does n't do it for you I'll go down the hall and get Sandra to open the door.''
*'' You would n't! `` *
`` I might...'' The Captain let his tone settle for a moment, considering. `` Rob, I though Adventuring was your deal. Was n't that the reason you came here?''
*'' Oh... for fuck's sake, I'm coming! Do n't you dare sick that crazy Mage-woman on me. `` * a rough shuffle and the clatter of wood sounded before the door was opened to reveal a bedraggled man of slightly plump build. `` From threats to guilt-tripping, I see how you do things.''
`` I would n't if I could help it, but I've got a Mission for you.'' The Captain eyed the man, almost uneasy. `` Twenty miles south, urgent: I'd recommend taking the Jeep.''
`` *Another* mission, Captain?''
`` Quest than, if that sounds better to you.'' The Captain peeked past the door with a grimace at the unorganized mess within the room. `` It's a retrieval. A portal opened to the South.''
`` Hooo, anything interesting come out of them?''
`` One person, now deceased.''
`` Nothing else?''
`` No, but where there's one, there's a good chance of more. Queen's scouts have reported as much, we saw that happen last month too with what might have been an aircraft.'' The Captain pulled the parchment from Ronadle's waiting hand beside him, scanning it over before giving a gruff nod. `` *Poor bastard might have been a plumber*... Listen, I want you down there with a team. Any more people come out, bring them here if you can.''
`` If this is a longterm thing I'm requesting Eron. Guns are great an all, but I'm not going back out there without some solid firepower.'' From the doorway, the man's arms crossed over a stained t-shirt and a slight beer-gut. `` I want a mage.''
`` Fine, and I'll throw in six knights while you're at it- but if you get Eron, you get Sandra.''
`` Sandra-'' The man choked on the name, coughing with a flustered anger. `` Since when was that a rule?''
`` Since they put rings on each other's fingers.''
`` Oh for fuck's sake- Fine then! But I want Joe too.'' Puffing up, the man eyed the Captain. `` My car, my rules. I'm not going anywhere with Sandra unless Joe is there to watch my back. I do n't want to wind up dead.''
`` No Rob, I ca n't do it.'' The Captain dismissed the suggestion, `` I might need Joe if another Portal opens somewhere else. If not him, then I'll likely need to leave the Capital myself, and there's a still a Church mark on my neck. That's a disaster waiting to happen.''
`` Then you can send your Crazy Elf, or the Werewolf- I want Joe on my team.''
`` We both know that Queen Aurum's very fond of that werewolf,'' The Captain let a sly smile creep over his beard, `` and the *Crazy* Elf wo n't leave even if I order her to.''
`` Seriously?''
`` I'm afraid so.''
`` You're not budging?''
`` No, I ca n't give you all of them Rob, I'm sorry.'' The Captain confirmed, `` There have been too many assassination attempts recently anyways, at least one of them is needed here for now.''
`` Fine, keep the Mages, just send me with Joe- and knock that down to four knights so we can fit without that shit trailer you've got. We'll get it done.''
`` Deal.''
-- --
**This story is a continuation of a bunch of other writing-prompts! **
[ Start here! ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/51f8ag/wp_youre_such_a_powerful_magician_that_life_is/d7bn3g2/ )
[ Previous ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/612yh9/tt_every_neighborhood_in_your_city_has_a_resident/dfbd58i/ )
[ Next ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/638e3v/wp_write_a_story_that_ends_with_and_yet_my_desire/dfs90ri/ )
| <s>[INST] A very typical everyday plumber find himself sucked into a portal . [/INST] `` Captain, Knight Ronalde reporting. I've brought the information as you requested.'' Saluting as the address began, the man who entered the room took up the tense position of one awaiting interrogation, straightening as he began his report. `` Another rift and another entry, this time Southern town Forles, just North of the Redstone territories.''
`` Alive?'' At the desk, a bespectacled man set down the parchment he'd been eyeing, noble-style reading glasses removed with a rough sigh. `` I'm guessing that's a *no, * is n't it?''
`` Unfortunately, Captain.'' Still at attention, Ronalde tried not to stare as his superior reached for the flask of amber, taking a hefty sip before standing with a gruff hiss of displeasure. It took little for him to notice that the room smelled strongly of spirits, or the second- much more empty flask sitting unattended on the floor. `` If I may, Sir-''
`` Fine, take me to it. Gods only know the Queen wo n't want us bringing the corpse in here.'' The Captain retrieved a rough looking contraption of wood and metal from beside the desk, slinging it over his shoulder to match the regal sword at his waist. `` Do you know the cause of death?''
`` Captain, reports say it was simply a bad landing. No fowl play suspected. The rift opened up thirty feet above the cobblestone... the results were... unpleasant.''
`` The poor bastard never had a chance.''
`` No sir. Likely dead on impact.''
`` Any other disturbances? Ripple effects?'' Objects of interest?''
`` Sir, some artifacts were recovered. Metal tools of some kind, and another mana-housing.'' Checking the parchment in hand, Ronalde took the lead lead, confirming. `` A small amount of water as well, reportedly. The Church Officials of the town were attempting to take the scene when we arrived, but the Royal crest backed them down.''
`` Did you recover everything?'' A rough gesture from the Captain signaled a post of armored guards waiting in the hall, an entourage began to form. Knights fell into step with rough clatter of plates and steel as the Captain continued down towards the heavy-set wooden doors. `` I want every object found, in all likelihood we're going to need them at some point.''
`` For the most part they've been recovered, although it's hard to say. The Church might have hidden some of them.'' Keeping pace, the Soldier fell back as the Captain slammed the doors open, going on ahead as two panicked attendants jumped back from the wide-swing. `` We were n't the first on scene.''
`` You'd really think the Church might lack the spine for that sort of thing nowadays.'' An angry growl sounded with the faintest hint of liquor as the Captain's pace increased, growing gaggle of Guards struggled to follow without forming to a trot in the hallways. `` After that god-damned bloody Sunday, you'd expect them to consider a bit more before trying anything.''
`` Aye Sir, you're right Sir! We'd all think it.'' The brisk reply came with a halt of movement, as the Captain zeroed in on the first room in the hall. `` But it's in the realm of possibilities, so-''
`` Hold on a moment- ROB!'' The Captain's shout echoed through the rafters as he knocked loudly on the smaller set of doors. `` Rob, get up!'' The knocking continued, relentlessly. `` I need you to lead a team, ASAP. If I have to come back here with a bucket of ice water, so help me god- I'll do it!''
*'' It's late! * A muffled voice replied, obviously irritated. *'' You had me running Body-guard for the Queen with that damn Elf of yours all day! Joe has the other set of keys, make him go! `` *
`` Rob, if the ice water does n't do it for you I'll go down the hall and get Sandra to open the door.''
*'' You would n't! `` *
`` I might...'' The Captain let his tone settle for a moment, considering. `` Rob, I though Adventuring was your deal. Was n't that the reason you came here?''
*'' Oh... for fuck's sake, I'm coming! Do n't you dare sick that crazy Mage-woman on me. `` * a rough shuffle and the clatter of wood sounded before the door was opened to reveal a bedraggled man of slightly plump build. `` From threats to guilt-tripping, I see how you do things.''
`` I would n't if I could help it, but I've got a Mission for you.'' The Captain eyed the man, almost uneasy. `` Twenty miles south, urgent: I'd recommend taking the Jeep.''
`` *Another* mission, Captain?''
`` Quest than, if that sounds better to you.'' The Captain peeked past the door with a grimace at the unorganized mess within the room. `` It's a retrieval. A portal opened to the South.''
`` Hooo, anything interesting come out of them?''
`` One person, now deceased.''
`` Nothing else?''
`` No, but where there's one, there's a good chance of more. Queen's scouts have reported as much, we saw that happen last month too with what might have been an aircraft.'' The Captain pulled the parchment from Ronadle's waiting hand beside him, scanning it over before giving a gruff nod. `` *Poor bastard might have been a plumber*... Listen, I want you down there with a team. Any more people come out, bring them here if you can.''
`` If this is a longterm thing I'm requesting Eron. Guns are great an all, but I'm not going back out there without some solid firepower.'' From the doorway, the man's arms crossed over a stained t-shirt and a slight beer-gut. `` I want a mage.''
`` Fine, and I'll throw in six knights while you're at it- but if you get Eron, you get Sandra.''
`` Sandra-'' The man choked on the name, coughing with a flustered anger. `` Since when was that a rule?''
`` Since they put rings on each other's fingers.''
`` Oh for fuck's sake- Fine then! But I want Joe too.'' Puffing up, the man eyed the Captain. `` My car, my rules. I'm not going anywhere with Sandra unless Joe is there to watch my back. I do n't want to wind up dead.''
`` No Rob, I ca n't do it.'' The Captain dismissed the suggestion, `` I might need Joe if another Portal opens somewhere else. If not him, then I'll likely need to leave the Capital myself, and there's a still a Church mark on my neck. That's a disaster waiting to happen.''
`` Then you can send your Crazy Elf, or the Werewolf- I want Joe on my team.''
`` We both know that Queen Aurum's very fond of that werewolf,'' The Captain let a sly smile creep over his beard, `` and the *Crazy* Elf wo n't leave even if I order her to.''
`` Seriously?''
`` I'm afraid so.''
`` You're not budging?''
`` No, I ca n't give you all of them Rob, I'm sorry.'' The Captain confirmed, `` There have been too many assassination attempts recently anyways, at least one of them is needed here for now.''
`` Fine, keep the Mages, just send me with Joe- and knock that down to four knights so we can fit without that shit trailer you've got. We'll get it done.''
`` Deal.''
-- --
**This story is a continuation of a bunch of other writing-prompts! **
[ Start here! ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/51f8ag/wp_youre_such_a_powerful_magician_that_life_is/d7bn3g2/ )
[ Previous ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/612yh9/tt_every_neighborhood_in_your_city_has_a_resident/dfbd58i/ )
[ Next ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/638e3v/wp_write_a_story_that_ends_with_and_yet_my_desire/dfs90ri/ )
</s> |
[ WP ] A new gameshow starts playing on every station worldwide . The rules of the game ; Say what you want to win , and if you do n't answer ten questions in a row correctly , then something of equal value is lost . After three hours someone says `` A glimpse of God . ''
| I stood quietly. Clutching the phone, I tried to maintain a normal breathing level.
A voice crackled through...'' You are..quite sure about this? We have no control over how these things are-''
`` I know.'' I said, feigning confidence.
Questions came. Questions that data analysis at prestigious colleges would struggle with. Ones that philosophers would need months to think about. An average man would succumb to the pressures of millions listening. I would not.
Finally, the last question came.
`` Allright, sir, the last question is: *What do you want to win*?''
... *What*?
*No*, I thought, *This ca n't be the right thing. I have to respond though. Is it really just the same answer I gave them before? Was that the original question of the ten? Have I already finished? *- I was cut short of my thoughts.
`` Sir, do you have an answer?''
*Why did I pick that in the first place? I'm not a humble person, I just did n't want too much power. I figured a glimpse would be something I could handle. Oh god, why did I even choose that in the first place? *
I grasped the phone tighter. I furrowed my eyebrows and placed my free hand against my temple. `` Yes, I have an answer.''
`` Excellent, sir, what do you want to win?'' The anticipation from the announcer was felt throughout the world.
`` I'm not sure.''
Moments went by. Small talk was heard on the radio. Finally the announcer assuredly said, `` You are correct.''
A loud shriek consumed my world. Burning white streaks penetrated my field of vision and I lost any feeling of my body. I knew everything within a moment and forgot all I knew. Vibrations in harmony moved across miles of plains that within an instance could fit inside my palm. Soon blackness consumed my sight as it seemingly removed my sound. Any thoughts of mine would echo. These echoes had conversations with each other. Miraculously, a star appeared. A soft, silver star in the distance. I chased it. I loved the star and I knew not why. As I chased it, the star become smaller. However, as I chased, my vision became restored and I could hear again. Colors and noise invaded my path to this precious star.
`` Sir, congratulations, we will send you your prize!''
I snapped back. I dropped the phone. I walked outside into a field and sat. I looked upon the world with wonder and gave up my chase. I simply took in what was around me, knowing this was a glimpse enough.
| <s>[INST] A new gameshow starts playing on every station worldwide . The rules of the game ; Say what you want to win , and if you do n't answer ten questions in a row correctly , then something of equal value is lost . After three hours someone says `` A glimpse of God . '' [/INST] I stood quietly. Clutching the phone, I tried to maintain a normal breathing level.
A voice crackled through...'' You are..quite sure about this? We have no control over how these things are-''
`` I know.'' I said, feigning confidence.
Questions came. Questions that data analysis at prestigious colleges would struggle with. Ones that philosophers would need months to think about. An average man would succumb to the pressures of millions listening. I would not.
Finally, the last question came.
`` Allright, sir, the last question is: *What do you want to win*?''
... *What*?
*No*, I thought, *This ca n't be the right thing. I have to respond though. Is it really just the same answer I gave them before? Was that the original question of the ten? Have I already finished? *- I was cut short of my thoughts.
`` Sir, do you have an answer?''
*Why did I pick that in the first place? I'm not a humble person, I just did n't want too much power. I figured a glimpse would be something I could handle. Oh god, why did I even choose that in the first place? *
I grasped the phone tighter. I furrowed my eyebrows and placed my free hand against my temple. `` Yes, I have an answer.''
`` Excellent, sir, what do you want to win?'' The anticipation from the announcer was felt throughout the world.
`` I'm not sure.''
Moments went by. Small talk was heard on the radio. Finally the announcer assuredly said, `` You are correct.''
A loud shriek consumed my world. Burning white streaks penetrated my field of vision and I lost any feeling of my body. I knew everything within a moment and forgot all I knew. Vibrations in harmony moved across miles of plains that within an instance could fit inside my palm. Soon blackness consumed my sight as it seemingly removed my sound. Any thoughts of mine would echo. These echoes had conversations with each other. Miraculously, a star appeared. A soft, silver star in the distance. I chased it. I loved the star and I knew not why. As I chased it, the star become smaller. However, as I chased, my vision became restored and I could hear again. Colors and noise invaded my path to this precious star.
`` Sir, congratulations, we will send you your prize!''
I snapped back. I dropped the phone. I walked outside into a field and sat. I looked upon the world with wonder and gave up my chase. I simply took in what was around me, knowing this was a glimpse enough.
</s> |
[ WP ] A Genie promises to grant your every request , only this one is infamous for horribly misinterpreting wishes . You are determined to outwit him .
| The first thing out of the genie's mouth as he pops out of the bottle is `` Oh, *you* look like you think you're a clever one. Today's a two-for-one special, you know. Six wishes. I bet Upon-A-Starβ’ does n't offer those kinds of deals!''
I adjust my glasses. I've been prepared for this moment by the Internet since my youth.
`` All right,'' I say. `` Let's talk ground rules.''
`` Let's,'' replies the genie.
`` Can I wish for infinite things?''
`` Oh, this *will* be fun,'' he says. `` Unfortunately, I'm not even allowed to deal with infinities. In fact, any mention of the word'infinity' in your wish will guarantee it gets marked as spam by our filters.''
`` I wish for a finite, but arbitrarily large, amount of wishes.''
`` Poof!'' he says.
Yes, he actually says `` Poof.''
`` Congratulations! I've granted your wish. Since you did n't bother, I took the liberty of deciding the arbitrarily large number for you. I decided on one. One's a pretty large number, really! There are an uncountable amount of numbers less than one!''
I glower at him.
`` I wish for two more wishes.''
`` Poof! Congratulations, you have gained the incredible ability to wish for things. Two uses only, I'm afraid.''
I rack my brains.
`` Look, kid,'' the genie says. `` Just give up. Just wish for something normal, like gold, or for the most popular girl in school to be your girlfriend or something like that.''
I am not about to give up this battle of wits without a fight, though.
`` I wish for ten more genies!''
`` Poof!'' Ten more genies flicker into existence.
`` Congratulations! You've contributed to the continued survival of genies! We're an endangered species, you know, ever since Aladdin came out and people stopped wishing themselves into genies. You will forever be remembered as a benefactor of our kind.''
For a moment a golden statue of me appears, grinning and giving the thumbs-up. The genies all pretend to shed a tear.
`` Of course,'' the first genie says, `` you must realize that wishes are granted on a per-person basis, not per-person-per-genie. Four wishes left.''
I groan in frustration.
`` I wish for someone who will be willing to wish for anything I tell them to wish for.''
`` Poof! Congratulations! You fit that category splendidly yourself! *The person you wanted was **you** all along! * Three wishes left.''
I stomp my foot in frustration.
`` I wish for someone *else* with all of those qualities, who is also eligible for receiving wishes,'' I say, hoping to close another loophole.
`` Poof!'' An impressionable young boy appears.
`` Hello,'' I say. `` What's your name?''
`` Marvin,'' he says. He looks nervous, and starts sucking his thumb.
Feeling creepier by the second, I say, `` Marvin, could you please tell this genie here that you wish that I become the ruler of the world?''
It was kind of impulsive. I'm not I even *wanted* to be the ruler of the world. But I could n't stand the look on the genies face.
`` I wish I was the ruler of the world!'' Marvin says obediently.
`` Poof! Congratulations! This boy's height is now an SI unit! You have three wishes left, and this boy has five.''
`` I wish Star Wars was real!'' Marvin says.
`` Poof! Congratulations! Star Wars did indeed happen! In a galaxy far, far away, of course. And a long time ago. Could n't be breaching canon, could we? Four wishes for the little one left.''
Marvin looks extremely disappointed.
`` Look, kid. Just give up. Give in to your teenage fantasies. Maybe with some of my help, you might actually have a date for prom.''
Low blow.
`` I wish genies were incapable of subtraction,'' I say.
The other genies, who had been looking bored, roll their eyes.
`` Poof! Congratulations! Genies are no longer capable of subtraction. We are, however, perfectly capable of adding negative numbers.''
`` THAT'S THE SAME THING!'' I yell indignantly.
`` Different enough,'' he says.
`` Did n't you say something about your filters, and something that made it sound like you guys were a company?''
`` Yes!'' he replies. `` GenieCorp is a proud provider of all wishes to young and o-''
`` Yeah, whatever,'' I say. `` How about I talk to customer service?''
`` Oh, sure,'' he says. A phone appears in his hand.
`` Hello?'' he asks in a voice that is clearly meant to mock my own. I definitely do not sound that high-pitched. `` Hi, I'm calling because I want to abuse your product line and make a mockery of your company? Yes. That's correct. Yes, I'm doing it purely because I think I'm smarter than everyone else- huh,'' he says, turning to me. `` Seems like they hung up.''
I grit my teeth.
`` Marvin, could you kindly repeat what I'm about to say to the genie?'I wish for one million dollars, to be given immediately and safely to the human nearest to me.'''
`` Poof! *Finally*'', says the genie, and presents me with a large stack of bills. `` That's better. Less of this too-cool-for-school stuff, more giving into your greed and baser qualities. One for you, three for the lad.''
I did n't want to think about his comment about greed too much.
`` Well,'' I say. `` I think I've won.Marvin, say'I wish for someone who is eligible for six wishes and has n't used any of those wishes yet who is willing to wish for whatever I ask them.''
Marvin obliges.
`` You're getting pretty creepy,'' commented the genie. `` Unfortunately, there are no valid people like that.''
`` What?'' I ask.
`` Since you pulled that stunt with poor Marvin here, the rules were quickly revised. As long as anyone has wishes left, nobody else is eligible for wishes. One for you, two for him.''
`` But you did n't grant the wish!''
`` We at GenieCorp endeavor to do our best to provide top-notch wish service. However, in the event that a wish is impossible to grant, we do not have a refund policy.''
`` Outrageous,'' I mutter. `` Marvin, say to the genie'I wish that the human closest to me had complete jurisdiction over GenieCorp policy.''
Marvin dutifully repeats the phrase.
`` Sorry! The wish hardware makes meddling with anything in its own internal working via wish impossible.''
`` But that does n't even make sense!''
`` One wish left for each of you.''
`` All right,'' I say. `` Two left. Might as well make sure I get something more than money out of this before trying to cheat the system again. Marvin, tell the genie'I wish that Lita from the human nearest to me's chemistry class liked him.' Also, take this.''
I hand him half of the million dollars, in a vain attempt to assuage my conscience.
`` Wow,'' said the genie. `` I feel like there's a lesson to be learned from this. Something about mankind's weaknesses. Or maybe about not trusting it to people who do n't even have their fly up.''
I glance down, and hastily zip it up.
`` Well?'' I demand.
`` Poof!'' the genie says. `` She did indeed like you, but she's over that now. One wish left.''
`` THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT!''
`` You should thank me,'' said the genie. `` Or, maybe, the rest of humanity should.''
I reach into my pocket and withdraw my phone.
`` What are you doing now?''
I glare at the genie. `` Time to put this half a million to use. I need to have a request without loopholes. I'm calling a lawyer.''
| <s>[INST] A Genie promises to grant your every request , only this one is infamous for horribly misinterpreting wishes . You are determined to outwit him . [/INST] The first thing out of the genie's mouth as he pops out of the bottle is `` Oh, *you* look like you think you're a clever one. Today's a two-for-one special, you know. Six wishes. I bet Upon-A-Starβ’ does n't offer those kinds of deals!''
I adjust my glasses. I've been prepared for this moment by the Internet since my youth.
`` All right,'' I say. `` Let's talk ground rules.''
`` Let's,'' replies the genie.
`` Can I wish for infinite things?''
`` Oh, this *will* be fun,'' he says. `` Unfortunately, I'm not even allowed to deal with infinities. In fact, any mention of the word'infinity' in your wish will guarantee it gets marked as spam by our filters.''
`` I wish for a finite, but arbitrarily large, amount of wishes.''
`` Poof!'' he says.
Yes, he actually says `` Poof.''
`` Congratulations! I've granted your wish. Since you did n't bother, I took the liberty of deciding the arbitrarily large number for you. I decided on one. One's a pretty large number, really! There are an uncountable amount of numbers less than one!''
I glower at him.
`` I wish for two more wishes.''
`` Poof! Congratulations, you have gained the incredible ability to wish for things. Two uses only, I'm afraid.''
I rack my brains.
`` Look, kid,'' the genie says. `` Just give up. Just wish for something normal, like gold, or for the most popular girl in school to be your girlfriend or something like that.''
I am not about to give up this battle of wits without a fight, though.
`` I wish for ten more genies!''
`` Poof!'' Ten more genies flicker into existence.
`` Congratulations! You've contributed to the continued survival of genies! We're an endangered species, you know, ever since Aladdin came out and people stopped wishing themselves into genies. You will forever be remembered as a benefactor of our kind.''
For a moment a golden statue of me appears, grinning and giving the thumbs-up. The genies all pretend to shed a tear.
`` Of course,'' the first genie says, `` you must realize that wishes are granted on a per-person basis, not per-person-per-genie. Four wishes left.''
I groan in frustration.
`` I wish for someone who will be willing to wish for anything I tell them to wish for.''
`` Poof! Congratulations! You fit that category splendidly yourself! *The person you wanted was **you** all along! * Three wishes left.''
I stomp my foot in frustration.
`` I wish for someone *else* with all of those qualities, who is also eligible for receiving wishes,'' I say, hoping to close another loophole.
`` Poof!'' An impressionable young boy appears.
`` Hello,'' I say. `` What's your name?''
`` Marvin,'' he says. He looks nervous, and starts sucking his thumb.
Feeling creepier by the second, I say, `` Marvin, could you please tell this genie here that you wish that I become the ruler of the world?''
It was kind of impulsive. I'm not I even *wanted* to be the ruler of the world. But I could n't stand the look on the genies face.
`` I wish I was the ruler of the world!'' Marvin says obediently.
`` Poof! Congratulations! This boy's height is now an SI unit! You have three wishes left, and this boy has five.''
`` I wish Star Wars was real!'' Marvin says.
`` Poof! Congratulations! Star Wars did indeed happen! In a galaxy far, far away, of course. And a long time ago. Could n't be breaching canon, could we? Four wishes for the little one left.''
Marvin looks extremely disappointed.
`` Look, kid. Just give up. Give in to your teenage fantasies. Maybe with some of my help, you might actually have a date for prom.''
Low blow.
`` I wish genies were incapable of subtraction,'' I say.
The other genies, who had been looking bored, roll their eyes.
`` Poof! Congratulations! Genies are no longer capable of subtraction. We are, however, perfectly capable of adding negative numbers.''
`` THAT'S THE SAME THING!'' I yell indignantly.
`` Different enough,'' he says.
`` Did n't you say something about your filters, and something that made it sound like you guys were a company?''
`` Yes!'' he replies. `` GenieCorp is a proud provider of all wishes to young and o-''
`` Yeah, whatever,'' I say. `` How about I talk to customer service?''
`` Oh, sure,'' he says. A phone appears in his hand.
`` Hello?'' he asks in a voice that is clearly meant to mock my own. I definitely do not sound that high-pitched. `` Hi, I'm calling because I want to abuse your product line and make a mockery of your company? Yes. That's correct. Yes, I'm doing it purely because I think I'm smarter than everyone else- huh,'' he says, turning to me. `` Seems like they hung up.''
I grit my teeth.
`` Marvin, could you kindly repeat what I'm about to say to the genie?'I wish for one million dollars, to be given immediately and safely to the human nearest to me.'''
`` Poof! *Finally*'', says the genie, and presents me with a large stack of bills. `` That's better. Less of this too-cool-for-school stuff, more giving into your greed and baser qualities. One for you, three for the lad.''
I did n't want to think about his comment about greed too much.
`` Well,'' I say. `` I think I've won.Marvin, say'I wish for someone who is eligible for six wishes and has n't used any of those wishes yet who is willing to wish for whatever I ask them.''
Marvin obliges.
`` You're getting pretty creepy,'' commented the genie. `` Unfortunately, there are no valid people like that.''
`` What?'' I ask.
`` Since you pulled that stunt with poor Marvin here, the rules were quickly revised. As long as anyone has wishes left, nobody else is eligible for wishes. One for you, two for him.''
`` But you did n't grant the wish!''
`` We at GenieCorp endeavor to do our best to provide top-notch wish service. However, in the event that a wish is impossible to grant, we do not have a refund policy.''
`` Outrageous,'' I mutter. `` Marvin, say to the genie'I wish that the human closest to me had complete jurisdiction over GenieCorp policy.''
Marvin dutifully repeats the phrase.
`` Sorry! The wish hardware makes meddling with anything in its own internal working via wish impossible.''
`` But that does n't even make sense!''
`` One wish left for each of you.''
`` All right,'' I say. `` Two left. Might as well make sure I get something more than money out of this before trying to cheat the system again. Marvin, tell the genie'I wish that Lita from the human nearest to me's chemistry class liked him.' Also, take this.''
I hand him half of the million dollars, in a vain attempt to assuage my conscience.
`` Wow,'' said the genie. `` I feel like there's a lesson to be learned from this. Something about mankind's weaknesses. Or maybe about not trusting it to people who do n't even have their fly up.''
I glance down, and hastily zip it up.
`` Well?'' I demand.
`` Poof!'' the genie says. `` She did indeed like you, but she's over that now. One wish left.''
`` THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT!''
`` You should thank me,'' said the genie. `` Or, maybe, the rest of humanity should.''
I reach into my pocket and withdraw my phone.
`` What are you doing now?''
I glare at the genie. `` Time to put this half a million to use. I need to have a request without loopholes. I'm calling a lawyer.''
</s> |
[ WP ] A man gets a chance to ask God what happens to people after they die . He receives an answer he was not expecting .
| God: I do n't know'Shrugs shoulders'
Man: What do you mean you do n't know? You created us. You created everything that existed, exists now and will exist. So how do you not know what happens when we die.
God: Honestly... I kinda forgot that part of the system before I flipped the switch and all that. The system did n't crash and death seemed to be doing it's thing. Ive kinda been trying to find out where you guys went after since.
Black Plague, earthquake, tsunamis and all that. I was running experiments see. Number of deaths, method of dying, they were some of the variables I was using. Sorry about the dinosaurs though.'Smiles sheepishly' that test went abit too far.
Man: Have you at least had some success?
God:'Stares at Man. Stunned' Define success...
| <s>[INST] A man gets a chance to ask God what happens to people after they die . He receives an answer he was not expecting . [/INST] God: I do n't know'Shrugs shoulders'
Man: What do you mean you do n't know? You created us. You created everything that existed, exists now and will exist. So how do you not know what happens when we die.
God: Honestly... I kinda forgot that part of the system before I flipped the switch and all that. The system did n't crash and death seemed to be doing it's thing. Ive kinda been trying to find out where you guys went after since.
Black Plague, earthquake, tsunamis and all that. I was running experiments see. Number of deaths, method of dying, they were some of the variables I was using. Sorry about the dinosaurs though.'Smiles sheepishly' that test went abit too far.
Man: Have you at least had some success?
God:'Stares at Man. Stunned' Define success...
</s> |
[ WP ] : when you die you now have the option to upload your consciousness to be a `` Siri '' like smartphone assistant . Write the typical interaction between you and your master .
| `` I did the best I could do under those circumstances.''
`` No do n't make it easy for yourself. You always had a choice. You just chose not to exercise it.''
`` Why did n't you tell me then?''
`` Did n't I?''
`` I thought I was doing the right thing.''
`` The moment you took the first step towards that poor bastard, you knew'right' was thrown out of the window.''
`` What else could I have done? It was either me or him. And I chose myself. Like any other person would have. I am no hero. I am no savior.''
`` You did n't have to be the hero. You just had to be kind enough to give the other man a chance at life. Like you had.''
`` Why is the onus on me? Why did I have to do something? Why ca n't I get away with it like the scoundrels who put me there in the first place?''
`` Because you knew. There nothing more to it. Responsibility is for those who know. And once you know, you ca n't ignore it. At least not without me having to have this conversation with you at some point.''
`` All my life I have never harmed another living being.''
`` But you did n't save one either. And it would n't have mattered. Most people do n't. But you realised that you could have if you wanted to. And that's what makes the difference.''
`` Yes yes I knew I could do some things to make life better for other people. But I did n't. I chose to look out for myself. What's wrong with that?''
`` Nothing. Except the fact that that choice has been eating you alive. Hey it's not me. It's all you.''
`` I could have saved that man but I did n't. I should have. Do n't you think I know that? Of course I know that. And it kills me to know that. Like every other little thing in my life that I could have done but did n't. Why? I have no idea why!''
`` I could help you with that. Life is n't just about survival anymore. Every minute that you spend on this planet has consequences. And the worst part is that you know of those consequences. So how can you knowingly indulge in a crime and expect to not destroy you? You have your mind to answer to. And me.''
`` What can I do now?''
`` Nothing. Maybe next time. You carry these lessons forward. I travel with you. I'll be there next time too when you need to make a choice. And we will do this again. So next time.''
| <s>[INST] : when you die you now have the option to upload your consciousness to be a `` Siri '' like smartphone assistant . Write the typical interaction between you and your master . [/INST] `` I did the best I could do under those circumstances.''
`` No do n't make it easy for yourself. You always had a choice. You just chose not to exercise it.''
`` Why did n't you tell me then?''
`` Did n't I?''
`` I thought I was doing the right thing.''
`` The moment you took the first step towards that poor bastard, you knew'right' was thrown out of the window.''
`` What else could I have done? It was either me or him. And I chose myself. Like any other person would have. I am no hero. I am no savior.''
`` You did n't have to be the hero. You just had to be kind enough to give the other man a chance at life. Like you had.''
`` Why is the onus on me? Why did I have to do something? Why ca n't I get away with it like the scoundrels who put me there in the first place?''
`` Because you knew. There nothing more to it. Responsibility is for those who know. And once you know, you ca n't ignore it. At least not without me having to have this conversation with you at some point.''
`` All my life I have never harmed another living being.''
`` But you did n't save one either. And it would n't have mattered. Most people do n't. But you realised that you could have if you wanted to. And that's what makes the difference.''
`` Yes yes I knew I could do some things to make life better for other people. But I did n't. I chose to look out for myself. What's wrong with that?''
`` Nothing. Except the fact that that choice has been eating you alive. Hey it's not me. It's all you.''
`` I could have saved that man but I did n't. I should have. Do n't you think I know that? Of course I know that. And it kills me to know that. Like every other little thing in my life that I could have done but did n't. Why? I have no idea why!''
`` I could help you with that. Life is n't just about survival anymore. Every minute that you spend on this planet has consequences. And the worst part is that you know of those consequences. So how can you knowingly indulge in a crime and expect to not destroy you? You have your mind to answer to. And me.''
`` What can I do now?''
`` Nothing. Maybe next time. You carry these lessons forward. I travel with you. I'll be there next time too when you need to make a choice. And we will do this again. So next time.''
</s> |
[ WP ] You wake up in your middle school body with all of your current knowledge , but living suddenly in the past ( the same years you were in middle school ) .
| Well I'd be able to predict the few earth quakes that happened in my city, as well as the ones elsewhere that I remember, including the ability to save many lives in that awful Japanese one. That's the first thing I'd do, Japan will evacuate for sure if I can get to the media and tell them the exact time, date and magnitude for the two ones from my city, they wo n't wan na risk it.
I got in to a game in 2012, based on a mod that's been out since 2003. The game is highly competitive and has huge tournament, last year's big one had a prize pool of $ 11,000,000, so I think I'd practice quite a lot more, get more skill on top of what I already have, should be gooooood fun: D
Shit, Ima need to buy a PC with my $ 12.38c: /
Dunno if I'd tell people about it and not go to school, go straight to UNI mayb, or just have the easy life.... Probs just the easy life actually. Yeah.
Hmmm, as I said before with the pro-gaming thing, I'd be able to correctly bet on the big games, knowing the 1-10 teams over the major tournaments. Roughly. I could also bet on a few other things....
DEFINITELY get into programming earlier, SHIT WHEN WERE BITCOINS LAUGHED AT!?!?
OOOOO! found a game, may edit later and write more shit!
| <s>[INST] You wake up in your middle school body with all of your current knowledge , but living suddenly in the past ( the same years you were in middle school ) . [/INST] Well I'd be able to predict the few earth quakes that happened in my city, as well as the ones elsewhere that I remember, including the ability to save many lives in that awful Japanese one. That's the first thing I'd do, Japan will evacuate for sure if I can get to the media and tell them the exact time, date and magnitude for the two ones from my city, they wo n't wan na risk it.
I got in to a game in 2012, based on a mod that's been out since 2003. The game is highly competitive and has huge tournament, last year's big one had a prize pool of $ 11,000,000, so I think I'd practice quite a lot more, get more skill on top of what I already have, should be gooooood fun: D
Shit, Ima need to buy a PC with my $ 12.38c: /
Dunno if I'd tell people about it and not go to school, go straight to UNI mayb, or just have the easy life.... Probs just the easy life actually. Yeah.
Hmmm, as I said before with the pro-gaming thing, I'd be able to correctly bet on the big games, knowing the 1-10 teams over the major tournaments. Roughly. I could also bet on a few other things....
DEFINITELY get into programming earlier, SHIT WHEN WERE BITCOINS LAUGHED AT!?!?
OOOOO! found a game, may edit later and write more shit!
</s> |
[ WP ] The `` Eye for an Eye Inversion '' law allows every life saved to credit the saver one legal murder . The medical profession are now the most feared and revered community .
| Dr. George checked the papers twice as Anthony Renault sat patiently^1 in front of him. Today was running slowly, like a struggling faucet, no amount of concentration was paying off. He rubbed his eyes and made out what he could- *sore throat*; *ca n't sleep*. He'll figure something out- he could always just prescribe sugar pills again. *Most* of the time the human body will figure it out its problems on its own.
`` How are you feeling, Mr. Renault?'' asked Dr. George.
`` Not well. Feeling sick.''
`` Sore throat?''
Mr. Renault nodded. Dr. George told him to open wide.
`` Hmmm... Everything seems alright. I do n't see any issue here.''
`` There's a few things. I ca n't sleep.''
`` Are you eating well?''
`` I think it's because of things that are bothering me... In life, I mean. I saved a life.''
Dr. George was no stranger to saving lives. It was entitled in his job. Yes, from the *eye for and eye* law, he could use it to murder anyone he would wish. But Dr. George was not a violent man, simply a clumsy one. It seems like for every life he saves, another dies. It was the way of being a doctor, and sometimes slips can happen.
`` Congratulations! It's always good to save someone's life.''
`` Yeah. I suppose it is. You're a doctor. You must save many lives.''
George smirked.
`` How many lives do you think you saved, doctor?''
`` I'd say hundreds. Thousands, maybe. I've been doing this for many years now.''
`` And how many would you say you lost?''
George hesitated. `` Well, I try to focus on the positive.''
`` Do you remember the faces of you saved better than the ones you lost?''
George fidgeted in his chair. `` I do n't feel comfortable talking about this. Could we get back to the task on hand?''
`` Yes, of course. I was just questioning because, like I said, I saved a life. Just last week. It was little girl.''
`` That's very good.''
`` She was crossing the street, absentmindedly ahead of her parents. She was running, a truck was coming...''
`` You did a brave thing.''
`` Thing is, afterwards, after I saved her and after I got my I4I license, I was n't proud of myself. I was n't thinking about her. I did n't even feel like I saved her because she was just a little girl. Have you ever felt that way?''
`` What?''
`` Have you ever felt like you saved someone not for their life, but for the I4I?''
`` I've never wished to have an I4I license, nor have I ever used one.''
Mr. Renault scowled. `` Not intentionally, maybe. But they're handy to have. Have you ever saved a little girl?''
`` Yes, I'm sure I have. The past gets blurry.''
`` You would know if you have saved a little girl. Same if you had lost one. Have you ever lost a little girl before, Dr. George?''
`` Mr. Renault, this is highly unorthodox, and if we can not discuss why you are here, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave.''
`` We are discussing why I am here!'' Anthony Renault stood and towered over the doctor.
`` You're a lazy person. I am not a murderer. You are. An eye for an eye? You might have saved hundreds, but you've blinded thousands. You blinded her.''
Dr. George jumped out of his chair, making for the door, but it was n't quick enough. Mr. Renault left his papers on the stool.
pun^1
| <s>[INST] The `` Eye for an Eye Inversion '' law allows every life saved to credit the saver one legal murder . The medical profession are now the most feared and revered community . [/INST] Dr. George checked the papers twice as Anthony Renault sat patiently^1 in front of him. Today was running slowly, like a struggling faucet, no amount of concentration was paying off. He rubbed his eyes and made out what he could- *sore throat*; *ca n't sleep*. He'll figure something out- he could always just prescribe sugar pills again. *Most* of the time the human body will figure it out its problems on its own.
`` How are you feeling, Mr. Renault?'' asked Dr. George.
`` Not well. Feeling sick.''
`` Sore throat?''
Mr. Renault nodded. Dr. George told him to open wide.
`` Hmmm... Everything seems alright. I do n't see any issue here.''
`` There's a few things. I ca n't sleep.''
`` Are you eating well?''
`` I think it's because of things that are bothering me... In life, I mean. I saved a life.''
Dr. George was no stranger to saving lives. It was entitled in his job. Yes, from the *eye for and eye* law, he could use it to murder anyone he would wish. But Dr. George was not a violent man, simply a clumsy one. It seems like for every life he saves, another dies. It was the way of being a doctor, and sometimes slips can happen.
`` Congratulations! It's always good to save someone's life.''
`` Yeah. I suppose it is. You're a doctor. You must save many lives.''
George smirked.
`` How many lives do you think you saved, doctor?''
`` I'd say hundreds. Thousands, maybe. I've been doing this for many years now.''
`` And how many would you say you lost?''
George hesitated. `` Well, I try to focus on the positive.''
`` Do you remember the faces of you saved better than the ones you lost?''
George fidgeted in his chair. `` I do n't feel comfortable talking about this. Could we get back to the task on hand?''
`` Yes, of course. I was just questioning because, like I said, I saved a life. Just last week. It was little girl.''
`` That's very good.''
`` She was crossing the street, absentmindedly ahead of her parents. She was running, a truck was coming...''
`` You did a brave thing.''
`` Thing is, afterwards, after I saved her and after I got my I4I license, I was n't proud of myself. I was n't thinking about her. I did n't even feel like I saved her because she was just a little girl. Have you ever felt that way?''
`` What?''
`` Have you ever felt like you saved someone not for their life, but for the I4I?''
`` I've never wished to have an I4I license, nor have I ever used one.''
Mr. Renault scowled. `` Not intentionally, maybe. But they're handy to have. Have you ever saved a little girl?''
`` Yes, I'm sure I have. The past gets blurry.''
`` You would know if you have saved a little girl. Same if you had lost one. Have you ever lost a little girl before, Dr. George?''
`` Mr. Renault, this is highly unorthodox, and if we can not discuss why you are here, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave.''
`` We are discussing why I am here!'' Anthony Renault stood and towered over the doctor.
`` You're a lazy person. I am not a murderer. You are. An eye for an eye? You might have saved hundreds, but you've blinded thousands. You blinded her.''
Dr. George jumped out of his chair, making for the door, but it was n't quick enough. Mr. Renault left his papers on the stool.
pun^1
</s> |
[ WP ] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story .
| ANNOUNCER
Today, like any other day, we have a submission from a person who wants the Trump team to weigh in on a certain topic. We've been doing this show for 3 weeks and I still ca n't get used to live broadcasts. Is it camera one? Are we even rolling? We ca n't do things like this when he's president, folks. We need to get our asses in gear.
( Camera changes to camera one )
Alright, it looks like we're live on air for Trump TV this afternoon. We'll be looking at a certain prompt from a user of the Writing Prompts subreddit. The prompt reads thus:
( Announcer reads the prompt )
It sort of reminds you of a Christopher Nolan movie, does n't it? The director who floored a generation and made the word inception synonymous with mindfuck. On that note, I've heard of this prompt before in online mags. It seems its not a radical idea to pack a story chock full of as many twists as possible. For example, we found this story online that attempts to accomplish that exact thing.
( provide link to the story )
For us, though, the concept is very new. We have our greatest minds on the team thinking now about how they might handle this situation. They've considered using cliche plot twists to signal each new twist, such as a pregnancy surprise or a double-handed backstabbing motive for the character. On the other hand, the twists could be more subtle or singular. There could be a few greater, more interesting twists as well.
( Begin Trump close-up )
DONALD J TRUMP
Audience, I have a scene-stealing idea for a plot twist. Imagine this. You're walking in your hotel when you see the sign change, from Trump Tower, it's in the front of the building, so you would notice the change, by the way, to Clinton Mill. Astounding, right? But I suppose the prompt does call for more than one twist. Say the Clinton Mill is full of robots, or something. Then you find out it's all the politicians, the scoundrels, who are the robots. And get this, they've been robots all along! And you're going to be recruited to join their rhyming robot army to change the face of the nation. We could call the broadcast something like Zombie Television. That's all there is in the future anyway, is Zombie TV. Mindless advertising commercials and stories. And then it hits you... You're a zombie. That's a twist right there. I'd hate to find out I was a zombie. Trust me, I would kill myself a second time, if it were possible. I would n't want to be a walking corpse at all. And you know some people have this delusion, the Cotard delusion, I think its called, where they think they're already dead. To me, that sounds terrible. Youve really got it bad if you think you're dead already. The twist is in there, it's great, check it out, we'l have it written in 3 hours.
ANNOUNCER
Thank you Mr. President. Your input is of course highly regarded. Will there be any action in the coming script?
DONALD J TRUMP
Lots of action, terrifying action, and it will take everyone by surprise.
ANNOUNCER
What is the general direction the plot is taking so far, Mr. Trump?
DONALD J TRUMP
We're looking at taking two secret service agents through a CIA refuge in Afghanistan. They will meet some kind of mystery woman who will deliver all the twists. First, she's a hobo. Then, she's a billionaire. She orders a helicopter and tells the people she's already killed Osama Bin Ladin. Then, she reveals she's Hillary Clinton in digsuise. The secret agents turn on each other, one having voted for Clinton and the other voting for me. The one who voted for Clinton is majorly fat and falls out of the helicopter. Then, the second agent kills Hillary. It will sell millions. I absolutely can not wait.
ANNOUNCER
But why Afghanistan, if I may ask?
DONALD J TRUMP
Because that's where the war started. It's topical. It's in the current frame of mind.
ANNOUNCER
We are n't planning a war in Afghanistan, are we? Not another one!
DONALD J TRUMP
No, were sending Hillary there dressed as a hobo in disguise. Why are n't you paying attention?
ANNOUNCER
I didnt realize the prompt was actually going to happen. I suppose I thought we were just writing stories.
DONALD J TRUMP
Life imitates art. We're going to flesh it out as a story first, and see if it pans out the way we planned. You know life is but a stage, and we actors upon it. It's a narrative people are after, something they can digest and understand. We want people to be aware, comfortable they know what's going on.
ANNOUNCER
Even entertained?
DONALD J TRUMP
My presidency wo n't be a reality show, guy. But, I suppos that it may be entertaining.
ANNOUNCER
And all of the viewers of Trump TV will be tuning in every week for that kind of story. You'll hear it here first. If you do n't hear it here, it's not happening. We're the ultimate all-action news channel. Thanks for tuning in. That's all the time we have for today.
( cut )
| <s>[INST] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story . [/INST] ANNOUNCER
Today, like any other day, we have a submission from a person who wants the Trump team to weigh in on a certain topic. We've been doing this show for 3 weeks and I still ca n't get used to live broadcasts. Is it camera one? Are we even rolling? We ca n't do things like this when he's president, folks. We need to get our asses in gear.
( Camera changes to camera one )
Alright, it looks like we're live on air for Trump TV this afternoon. We'll be looking at a certain prompt from a user of the Writing Prompts subreddit. The prompt reads thus:
( Announcer reads the prompt )
It sort of reminds you of a Christopher Nolan movie, does n't it? The director who floored a generation and made the word inception synonymous with mindfuck. On that note, I've heard of this prompt before in online mags. It seems its not a radical idea to pack a story chock full of as many twists as possible. For example, we found this story online that attempts to accomplish that exact thing.
( provide link to the story )
For us, though, the concept is very new. We have our greatest minds on the team thinking now about how they might handle this situation. They've considered using cliche plot twists to signal each new twist, such as a pregnancy surprise or a double-handed backstabbing motive for the character. On the other hand, the twists could be more subtle or singular. There could be a few greater, more interesting twists as well.
( Begin Trump close-up )
DONALD J TRUMP
Audience, I have a scene-stealing idea for a plot twist. Imagine this. You're walking in your hotel when you see the sign change, from Trump Tower, it's in the front of the building, so you would notice the change, by the way, to Clinton Mill. Astounding, right? But I suppose the prompt does call for more than one twist. Say the Clinton Mill is full of robots, or something. Then you find out it's all the politicians, the scoundrels, who are the robots. And get this, they've been robots all along! And you're going to be recruited to join their rhyming robot army to change the face of the nation. We could call the broadcast something like Zombie Television. That's all there is in the future anyway, is Zombie TV. Mindless advertising commercials and stories. And then it hits you... You're a zombie. That's a twist right there. I'd hate to find out I was a zombie. Trust me, I would kill myself a second time, if it were possible. I would n't want to be a walking corpse at all. And you know some people have this delusion, the Cotard delusion, I think its called, where they think they're already dead. To me, that sounds terrible. Youve really got it bad if you think you're dead already. The twist is in there, it's great, check it out, we'l have it written in 3 hours.
ANNOUNCER
Thank you Mr. President. Your input is of course highly regarded. Will there be any action in the coming script?
DONALD J TRUMP
Lots of action, terrifying action, and it will take everyone by surprise.
ANNOUNCER
What is the general direction the plot is taking so far, Mr. Trump?
DONALD J TRUMP
We're looking at taking two secret service agents through a CIA refuge in Afghanistan. They will meet some kind of mystery woman who will deliver all the twists. First, she's a hobo. Then, she's a billionaire. She orders a helicopter and tells the people she's already killed Osama Bin Ladin. Then, she reveals she's Hillary Clinton in digsuise. The secret agents turn on each other, one having voted for Clinton and the other voting for me. The one who voted for Clinton is majorly fat and falls out of the helicopter. Then, the second agent kills Hillary. It will sell millions. I absolutely can not wait.
ANNOUNCER
But why Afghanistan, if I may ask?
DONALD J TRUMP
Because that's where the war started. It's topical. It's in the current frame of mind.
ANNOUNCER
We are n't planning a war in Afghanistan, are we? Not another one!
DONALD J TRUMP
No, were sending Hillary there dressed as a hobo in disguise. Why are n't you paying attention?
ANNOUNCER
I didnt realize the prompt was actually going to happen. I suppose I thought we were just writing stories.
DONALD J TRUMP
Life imitates art. We're going to flesh it out as a story first, and see if it pans out the way we planned. You know life is but a stage, and we actors upon it. It's a narrative people are after, something they can digest and understand. We want people to be aware, comfortable they know what's going on.
ANNOUNCER
Even entertained?
DONALD J TRUMP
My presidency wo n't be a reality show, guy. But, I suppos that it may be entertaining.
ANNOUNCER
And all of the viewers of Trump TV will be tuning in every week for that kind of story. You'll hear it here first. If you do n't hear it here, it's not happening. We're the ultimate all-action news channel. Thanks for tuning in. That's all the time we have for today.
( cut )
</s> |
[ WP ] The hero 's party have finally arrived at the gates of the dark lord for the climax . But the dark lord 's power is so far beyond what anyone had expected ...
| The woods smelled of blood and ash. The trees were dead and naked. The branches sprouted out towards the sky, like if they were pleading the heavens to reach down and pluck them from this horrible place. The red and orange leaves that had belonged to the trees covered the ground, and piling up over the years. They reached the group's knees.
Ralam, the farmer turned warrior, and his brave allies decided to camp for the night. The skies overhead were black, flashing every now and then with furious lightning, briefly lighting up their surroundings as if nature was telling them not to even bother with torches. There was a thick fog around them. Thunder bellowed and shook the ground whenever it made itself heard. Masfop, the archer from the east, went looking for dry wood as soon as Ralam chose a spot to for all to camp. Ledsa The Unseen stood watch while Gumash The Mind pretended to check the map that was given to them by a merchant. He was really drawing in his sketchbook. Ralam and Yanklin the Bludgeoner started removing leaves and made a big enough clearing for 5 people and a fire. When Ranklin was done, he threw his sleeping bag on the floor, and went straight to sleep, he was incredibly tired, cracking heads took its toll. Ledsa bore holes in nearby trees and thrust several torches in place. Masfop came back shortly with dry twigs, and as he threw them in the middle of the clearing Ralam and Ranklin made, he chuckled and shook his head.
`` We are surrounded by dry leaves and I went looking for dry wood.'' The tired heroes shared a laugh. As it died down, Ranklin snored loudly and the laughter was revived. The fire was made, and everyone sitting around felt safe.
Nobody stood watch that night.
Morning came, the lightning continued still and the thunder raged on. The fog was still hanging over them, and the sky was still black. 8 hours had past and everyone felt ready.
`` Who had first watch last night?'' Ralam asked, with worry in his voice.
Everyone looked at each other, Ranklin shrugged, Masfop looked behind him and back to Ralam, `` I do n't think we assigned a watch last night.''
`` We have to be more careful than this, we are so close.'' Ralam said, gathering his supplies.
`` This journey has been a hell.'' Gumash sighed.
Ralam put his hand on Gumash's shoulder.
`` I know this friend, I am forever grateful to you, to all of you, for joining me.''
A moment of silence fell upon them.
Ledsa smiled, and could n't help but think aloud. `` Do you remember when Hoom lusted over the maid with the heavy breasts and arse? And he wrote her a poem about how when he sees her lovely tits he cheeses his loins and cries with happiness?''
Everyone laughed.
`` He stuttered the whole time he was reciting that piece of shit poem!'' Masfop chimed in, trying to hold back tears of laughter.
`` His face when the maid spilled ale on his dumb face was the best part. ``, added Ranklin.
`` He was a good soldier.'' Ralam said.
They killed the fire, and they continued their journey. Ralam took point, Ranklin was behind him, Gumash was behind Ranklin, Ledsa was behind Gumash, and Masfop was behind her. Their destination was not far off. They could tell, because the smell of blood and ash became more prevalent.
They followed the smell for hours, not speaking a word. They were alert, beads of sweat ran down their face. No weapon was ever gripped tighter. The party gasped, as the air suddenly turned colder. Suddenly there was a screech, and their torches exploded, splinters and ash flew everywhere.
Masfop was n't holding a torch, and pulled on the bowstring, ready to shoot any sorry figure that made itself seen to him. The lightning lit up the woods, and he could see several humanoid figures in the distance, moving towards them. They were taller than any human he had ever seen, thin with long arms. He shot as many as he could before it became dark again. Thunder shook the ground.
The others stopped rubbing their eyes and put their backs against each other.
`` Listen to the leaves!'' Ralam shouted.
| <s>[INST] The hero 's party have finally arrived at the gates of the dark lord for the climax . But the dark lord 's power is so far beyond what anyone had expected ... [/INST] The woods smelled of blood and ash. The trees were dead and naked. The branches sprouted out towards the sky, like if they were pleading the heavens to reach down and pluck them from this horrible place. The red and orange leaves that had belonged to the trees covered the ground, and piling up over the years. They reached the group's knees.
Ralam, the farmer turned warrior, and his brave allies decided to camp for the night. The skies overhead were black, flashing every now and then with furious lightning, briefly lighting up their surroundings as if nature was telling them not to even bother with torches. There was a thick fog around them. Thunder bellowed and shook the ground whenever it made itself heard. Masfop, the archer from the east, went looking for dry wood as soon as Ralam chose a spot to for all to camp. Ledsa The Unseen stood watch while Gumash The Mind pretended to check the map that was given to them by a merchant. He was really drawing in his sketchbook. Ralam and Yanklin the Bludgeoner started removing leaves and made a big enough clearing for 5 people and a fire. When Ranklin was done, he threw his sleeping bag on the floor, and went straight to sleep, he was incredibly tired, cracking heads took its toll. Ledsa bore holes in nearby trees and thrust several torches in place. Masfop came back shortly with dry twigs, and as he threw them in the middle of the clearing Ralam and Ranklin made, he chuckled and shook his head.
`` We are surrounded by dry leaves and I went looking for dry wood.'' The tired heroes shared a laugh. As it died down, Ranklin snored loudly and the laughter was revived. The fire was made, and everyone sitting around felt safe.
Nobody stood watch that night.
Morning came, the lightning continued still and the thunder raged on. The fog was still hanging over them, and the sky was still black. 8 hours had past and everyone felt ready.
`` Who had first watch last night?'' Ralam asked, with worry in his voice.
Everyone looked at each other, Ranklin shrugged, Masfop looked behind him and back to Ralam, `` I do n't think we assigned a watch last night.''
`` We have to be more careful than this, we are so close.'' Ralam said, gathering his supplies.
`` This journey has been a hell.'' Gumash sighed.
Ralam put his hand on Gumash's shoulder.
`` I know this friend, I am forever grateful to you, to all of you, for joining me.''
A moment of silence fell upon them.
Ledsa smiled, and could n't help but think aloud. `` Do you remember when Hoom lusted over the maid with the heavy breasts and arse? And he wrote her a poem about how when he sees her lovely tits he cheeses his loins and cries with happiness?''
Everyone laughed.
`` He stuttered the whole time he was reciting that piece of shit poem!'' Masfop chimed in, trying to hold back tears of laughter.
`` His face when the maid spilled ale on his dumb face was the best part. ``, added Ranklin.
`` He was a good soldier.'' Ralam said.
They killed the fire, and they continued their journey. Ralam took point, Ranklin was behind him, Gumash was behind Ranklin, Ledsa was behind Gumash, and Masfop was behind her. Their destination was not far off. They could tell, because the smell of blood and ash became more prevalent.
They followed the smell for hours, not speaking a word. They were alert, beads of sweat ran down their face. No weapon was ever gripped tighter. The party gasped, as the air suddenly turned colder. Suddenly there was a screech, and their torches exploded, splinters and ash flew everywhere.
Masfop was n't holding a torch, and pulled on the bowstring, ready to shoot any sorry figure that made itself seen to him. The lightning lit up the woods, and he could see several humanoid figures in the distance, moving towards them. They were taller than any human he had ever seen, thin with long arms. He shot as many as he could before it became dark again. Thunder shook the ground.
The others stopped rubbing their eyes and put their backs against each other.
`` Listen to the leaves!'' Ralam shouted.
</s> |
[ WP ] Captain Obvious ' autobiography
| & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Hi, my name is Captain Obvious, and you can call me Captain Obvious.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I was born on my birthday out of a woman who was also my mother. I am currently still alive, and I will remain alive until death, and I will die on my last day of being alive.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Rather than let others do it, I chose to write my autobiography myself. My life has consisted of a series of events, some connected some not, some significant others pointless. I have met people, all of whom were human beings, and some of these people were significant to me while others had no impact on my life whatsoever.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I fell in love once to a female girl that I loved. She had hair, and eyes, and an epidermis. The girl also had a vagina. At the time of our first encounter at a place in space, she was alive. She breathed using lungs and pumped blood through her body thanks to a heart.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Our marriage was exactly one year before our first anniversary and one day before our only honeymoon. We had sex, which, as it turns out, is how babies are made.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; When our baby was born ( our son was a boy, btw ), we were happy. As he grew older, he changed from a baby to a toddler to a child to a youth to an adult. Even though half of him is like me, the other half is like his mother. There can only be two halves in a whole, a person might have once said at one time or another.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; He joined the army, which is a branch of the military. One day, overseas across the sea, he once died. His first time dying would also be his last. We buried him in the ground, under some dirt. The death of our son made us feel sad.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; My only wife, who was also the only mother of my only son, stopped speaking to everyone ( and anyone! ). Most mornings she rocked in her rocking chair, this chair made to rock back and forth. Right around sunrise, the sun would rise in the morning. She would watch it with her eyes. She did this for 730 sunrises across two years, and then she died until she was dead.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Now that I am by myself, I am alone. Sometimes I visit her grave, which is located at the bottom of a gravestone in a graveyard. The gravestone has her name on it along with her birthday and the day she died. If you subtract the first year from the second one, you can figure out her age, but only up to a certain date.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I usually sit in the rocking chair now, but if you find that its empty, that means I am not sitting in it. As long as I am alive, I am not dead, and if I am not dead, I am alive. Life has been good.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Obviously.
| <s>[INST] Captain Obvious ' autobiography [/INST] & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Hi, my name is Captain Obvious, and you can call me Captain Obvious.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I was born on my birthday out of a woman who was also my mother. I am currently still alive, and I will remain alive until death, and I will die on my last day of being alive.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Rather than let others do it, I chose to write my autobiography myself. My life has consisted of a series of events, some connected some not, some significant others pointless. I have met people, all of whom were human beings, and some of these people were significant to me while others had no impact on my life whatsoever.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I fell in love once to a female girl that I loved. She had hair, and eyes, and an epidermis. The girl also had a vagina. At the time of our first encounter at a place in space, she was alive. She breathed using lungs and pumped blood through her body thanks to a heart.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Our marriage was exactly one year before our first anniversary and one day before our only honeymoon. We had sex, which, as it turns out, is how babies are made.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; When our baby was born ( our son was a boy, btw ), we were happy. As he grew older, he changed from a baby to a toddler to a child to a youth to an adult. Even though half of him is like me, the other half is like his mother. There can only be two halves in a whole, a person might have once said at one time or another.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; He joined the army, which is a branch of the military. One day, overseas across the sea, he once died. His first time dying would also be his last. We buried him in the ground, under some dirt. The death of our son made us feel sad.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; My only wife, who was also the only mother of my only son, stopped speaking to everyone ( and anyone! ). Most mornings she rocked in her rocking chair, this chair made to rock back and forth. Right around sunrise, the sun would rise in the morning. She would watch it with her eyes. She did this for 730 sunrises across two years, and then she died until she was dead.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Now that I am by myself, I am alone. Sometimes I visit her grave, which is located at the bottom of a gravestone in a graveyard. The gravestone has her name on it along with her birthday and the day she died. If you subtract the first year from the second one, you can figure out her age, but only up to a certain date.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I usually sit in the rocking chair now, but if you find that its empty, that means I am not sitting in it. As long as I am alive, I am not dead, and if I am not dead, I am alive. Life has been good.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Obviously.
</s> |
[ Wp ] It is the year 2032 . Due to increasing obesity , fast food joints have been banned entirely . Tell us the tale of bootlegging and speakeasies in this troubled time of prohibition .
| ''Alright boys'' Tommy Saxon lit up up his fag and took his first long, slow draw. Cigs do n't come cheap, not after 2027 anyways.
Accompanying him were his inner circle, the three brothers. John, Jack and James. John was the brains, Jack was the muscle and James was the accidental one.
''This should be quick, clean and easy. The cargo is hot but the buyer is paying top money. Be careful handling the merchandise, the chips in particular. They *really* stressed on the chips''
''Tommy you do n't really expect them to pay, do you?'' John's pessimism was also duly noted, but to his credit he tended to be on point.
''I do n't, but that's why we brought Jack, Johnny. We've got a few men stationed around the corners and surrounding alley ways should things get hot''
The meeting point was typical. Dark narrow alley way, a plasma bulb flickering in an out, a bit of illumination in interim.
''Tommy! Tommy! Tommy! how good to see you!''
That thick southern American accent was unmistakable. Billy Kane was the biggest crime lord this side of the states, operating out of Texas. His influence stretched far beyond his home turf, far enough to commandeer the services of a bunch of British boys operating out of Neo London.
''Billy'' Tommy maintained his stoicism, although one must admit that being face to face with such an infamous presence is unnerving.
''I heard you boys are slowly taking control of London. Good on ya, it helps to have one of the most sought after men in the world''
He was of course referring to Kim. A 23 hundred thousand bounty for the man who brings in the last known chef to work at McDonalds.
''But enough of that, you got the merchandise?''
Saxon signaled with his fingers. A bag, dripping with oil from the bottom.
Billy was filled with anticipation. He pushed his protection aside, walking up personally to grab the bag. His fat sweaty hands shook as he brought it close to his nose, inhaling the scent.
''*Oh my god*, this is it!''
His hands dug deep into the bag, pulling out a handful of fries as he gobbled them down like a mad animal.
''Brings memories of a better time. *Far better time*''
The patience of the london boys was wearing thin.
''That's nice and all, but payment?'' John was a man of small stature, but even in the face of a notorious crime lord he maintained his coolness and level head.
''Oh yeah here, just take it'' a body guard throw a case at their feet. Jack counted the money, the right amount.
*That went rather well* thought Saxon.....
''TOM! THE BLOODY COPS ARE HERE! RUN!''
**'' SHIT'' **
A quick getaway awaited the Brits but the yankies were met with no such luck, in Billy's excitement he forgot to lock down the district. The cops had just apprehended Billy Kane....
''We're fucked, you know that right?'' were the first words to roll off of James's tongue as everyone say bewildered in the car.
''He's right. We're going to take the fall for his arrest''
Saxon could only sigh.
''One step at a time lads, one step at a time''
| <s>[INST] [ Wp ] It is the year 2032 . Due to increasing obesity , fast food joints have been banned entirely . Tell us the tale of bootlegging and speakeasies in this troubled time of prohibition . [/INST] ''Alright boys'' Tommy Saxon lit up up his fag and took his first long, slow draw. Cigs do n't come cheap, not after 2027 anyways.
Accompanying him were his inner circle, the three brothers. John, Jack and James. John was the brains, Jack was the muscle and James was the accidental one.
''This should be quick, clean and easy. The cargo is hot but the buyer is paying top money. Be careful handling the merchandise, the chips in particular. They *really* stressed on the chips''
''Tommy you do n't really expect them to pay, do you?'' John's pessimism was also duly noted, but to his credit he tended to be on point.
''I do n't, but that's why we brought Jack, Johnny. We've got a few men stationed around the corners and surrounding alley ways should things get hot''
The meeting point was typical. Dark narrow alley way, a plasma bulb flickering in an out, a bit of illumination in interim.
''Tommy! Tommy! Tommy! how good to see you!''
That thick southern American accent was unmistakable. Billy Kane was the biggest crime lord this side of the states, operating out of Texas. His influence stretched far beyond his home turf, far enough to commandeer the services of a bunch of British boys operating out of Neo London.
''Billy'' Tommy maintained his stoicism, although one must admit that being face to face with such an infamous presence is unnerving.
''I heard you boys are slowly taking control of London. Good on ya, it helps to have one of the most sought after men in the world''
He was of course referring to Kim. A 23 hundred thousand bounty for the man who brings in the last known chef to work at McDonalds.
''But enough of that, you got the merchandise?''
Saxon signaled with his fingers. A bag, dripping with oil from the bottom.
Billy was filled with anticipation. He pushed his protection aside, walking up personally to grab the bag. His fat sweaty hands shook as he brought it close to his nose, inhaling the scent.
''*Oh my god*, this is it!''
His hands dug deep into the bag, pulling out a handful of fries as he gobbled them down like a mad animal.
''Brings memories of a better time. *Far better time*''
The patience of the london boys was wearing thin.
''That's nice and all, but payment?'' John was a man of small stature, but even in the face of a notorious crime lord he maintained his coolness and level head.
''Oh yeah here, just take it'' a body guard throw a case at their feet. Jack counted the money, the right amount.
*That went rather well* thought Saxon.....
''TOM! THE BLOODY COPS ARE HERE! RUN!''
**'' SHIT'' **
A quick getaway awaited the Brits but the yankies were met with no such luck, in Billy's excitement he forgot to lock down the district. The cops had just apprehended Billy Kane....
''We're fucked, you know that right?'' were the first words to roll off of James's tongue as everyone say bewildered in the car.
''He's right. We're going to take the fall for his arrest''
Saxon could only sigh.
''One step at a time lads, one step at a time''
</s> |
[ WP ] The Black Market is not shady websites and untrackable dealings , but rather it 's an actual place , set up like a flea market .
| Shelly said it wasn β t hard to find if you know where to look and she sent me a text with the address. I wasn β t sure about going, I had heard all the bad things but I really needed that perfect thing; the one that would set me apart from my competition, so I made the decision. Shelly said it only opened at night, which figures but I was up for a little adventure and she told me they had a dress code. I thought it was a bit weird but I took it on board and dressed accordingly. I wore black skinny jeans and a black t shirt, black socks and my lace up black work shoes, a black scrunchie in my hair and grabbed my only black jacket.
I wasn β t expecting how pretty it would be. The full moon shone huge in the sky but it wasn β t needed with the bright blue fairy lights in every tree and along every verandah in the street. Even the old fashioned street lamps shone blue, the dark shadows made darker in the cold light.
The crowd really surprised me, all dressed to the code but they couldn β t hold my attention once I looked at the merchandise. Anything and everything my little heart could desire and all sorts of things I had never even imagined or heard of. All of it in row after row piled high and brilliantly displayed and all of it, every last thing including the cabinets and tables, the dΓ©cor and vendors, all of it was monochrome.
I was sure to find exactly what I needed here. All the shop fronts had roller doors that were open and I spent a long time wandering in and out amazed by it all. I felt like a tourist, gaping in wonder.
Finally my stomach made me follow my nose to the food stalls. A Goth girl in a velvet dress with flowing lacy sleeves smiled at me as she wrapped my meal.
β New here? β
I nodded and handed her the money.
β It is not what I expected that β s for sure. β I looked at my blood sausage and caramelised onions in Russian black bread.
β It surprises everyone the first time. Are you looking for anything in particular? β
β Accessories for my little black dress but it is harder than I anticipated. I didn β t think there would be so many shades of black before I came here. β
She laughed in a bubbly high pitched school girl kind of way that tugged my mouth into a grin.
β That β s why it β s called the black market. β
| <s>[INST] The Black Market is not shady websites and untrackable dealings , but rather it 's an actual place , set up like a flea market . [/INST] Shelly said it wasn β t hard to find if you know where to look and she sent me a text with the address. I wasn β t sure about going, I had heard all the bad things but I really needed that perfect thing; the one that would set me apart from my competition, so I made the decision. Shelly said it only opened at night, which figures but I was up for a little adventure and she told me they had a dress code. I thought it was a bit weird but I took it on board and dressed accordingly. I wore black skinny jeans and a black t shirt, black socks and my lace up black work shoes, a black scrunchie in my hair and grabbed my only black jacket.
I wasn β t expecting how pretty it would be. The full moon shone huge in the sky but it wasn β t needed with the bright blue fairy lights in every tree and along every verandah in the street. Even the old fashioned street lamps shone blue, the dark shadows made darker in the cold light.
The crowd really surprised me, all dressed to the code but they couldn β t hold my attention once I looked at the merchandise. Anything and everything my little heart could desire and all sorts of things I had never even imagined or heard of. All of it in row after row piled high and brilliantly displayed and all of it, every last thing including the cabinets and tables, the dΓ©cor and vendors, all of it was monochrome.
I was sure to find exactly what I needed here. All the shop fronts had roller doors that were open and I spent a long time wandering in and out amazed by it all. I felt like a tourist, gaping in wonder.
Finally my stomach made me follow my nose to the food stalls. A Goth girl in a velvet dress with flowing lacy sleeves smiled at me as she wrapped my meal.
β New here? β
I nodded and handed her the money.
β It is not what I expected that β s for sure. β I looked at my blood sausage and caramelised onions in Russian black bread.
β It surprises everyone the first time. Are you looking for anything in particular? β
β Accessories for my little black dress but it is harder than I anticipated. I didn β t think there would be so many shades of black before I came here. β
She laughed in a bubbly high pitched school girl kind of way that tugged my mouth into a grin.
β That β s why it β s called the black market. β
</s> |
[ WP ] You have been shot through space in a cryogenic freeze . You finally unfreeze and find that you are a museum artifact on an alien planet .
| Disorientation and nausea were what awaited me when I first awoke. My eyelashes still held some frost on them, the rest of my body felt like I'd fallen asleep in an ice-bath. Every part of my body was a cold fire for a few moments before the pod around me slowly came to life.
`` Greetings, Survivor. You have been asleep for-'' The feminine voice in my ear skipped with a scramble of white noise before continuing, `` Your emergency pickup beacon has been activated. Please hold while your internals are analyzed and repaired as necessary.''
A soft hum fills my chilled confines as things begin to gradually warmup. The first parts of me to feel any real warmth are my fingers and toes, followed slowly by the rest of my body, a dull ache still present in my lower abdomen. I croak as I open my mouth, my voice almost completely shot after who knows how many years of lack of use. Barely a second passes after I open my mouth before a matte grey rod extends from next to my head and inserts a straw in my mouth. My eyes open wide a little in shock as the straw forces its way into my throat, the liquid it forces me to swallow almost feeling like my body is on fire for a few seconds.
Vision blurring for a moment, I finally feel the strength to move my head. The compartment is dimly lit by the various status indicators and monitors present in my escape pod. My body is tightly held in place by various straps, preventing me from being injured by too much movement while asleep.
`` Defrost process... 85 % complete. Your Kidneys, Liver, and a toe are in need of repair. Please remain relaxed, Survivor.'' A needle enters the base of my neck and within seconds my visions blackens again.
When my eyes open again, I'm far more aware of my surroundings, the monitors actually making sense versus their earlier state of simply providing light. The first thing to catch my eye was a monitor with a blinking orange warning message, clearly stating,'Location Unknown: Please Remain Calm.'
The escape pod's computer continued on with her uncaring calmness, `` Procedure successful. Survival chances increased to 2 %. Status update: Contact with HFN Ignitor... No Signal Found. Contact with Human Federation Navy... No Signal Found. Contact with known Human settlements... No Signal Found. Contact with any known method of transmission... Multiple transmissions within 100 Meters located.''
The vitals monitor to the left of my head was fluctuating wildly. Small red text at the bottom clearly stated,'Caution: Forced Calmness being administered.' The words were slowly beginning to fade into the background as the sound of my breathing increased. Despite my attempts at panicking, the chemical cocktail being forcefully injected into me was preventing me from having any form of a natural reaction to the situation. My vision kept flicking across all of the monitors. All of the red and orange warning messages did nothing to help my state of mind, that was until the computer began with the next step of the defrost process.
`` Scanning current location... General location data acquired. Survivor is currently suspended 2 Meters above solid ground. Analyzing solid ground... No data found. Analyzing Atmospheric content: Air similar to Earth norm. Registered and marked as breathable by Human standards. Gravity registered as point two standards below Earth norm. Analysis Complete: Current location hospitable to Human life. No information on life forms able to be acquired.''
The lump in the back of my throat lessened... My head was still thick from the emergency induced cryosleep. All I could remember was there being a battle and my getting to an escape pod. As for what happened between then and now... I could n't begin to imagine. Tears began to form in my eyes as the feeling of panick slowly began to fade and all that was left was an utter sense of loneliness.
Clicking back to life once more, the computer spun up into her final part of the defrost process, `` Analysis indicates Survivor able to safely exit pod. Emergency sidearm is registering as functional and fully-loaded. Bio-lock has been locked to Survivor's DNA signature. External camera activated.'' The main monitor, displaying the information received during the various scans, swapped over to the external camera view. All that could be seen was static and a grey message box with white letters,'External Camera damaged. Please contact the Help Desk at 382-5968 for assistance with repairs.'
A hefty sigh filled the air as the bog standard and all-too-familiar message filled my screen. The want to wallow in self-pity was quickly tossed aside as a hiss filled the air, the door to the pod slowly animating. A line of light appeared through the crack that suddenly appeared. A whirring noise was quickly followed by a dull thud.
`` Automatic pod hatch control damaged. Please manually open hatch.'' Grumbling to myself, some memories beginning to trickle back through my mind, I loose my hand from the slackening bonds and give a hefty whack to the right side of the of pod. My gloved hand barely felt the impact before the computer came back on, `` Automatic pod hatch control restored.''
This time, the door slid open fully just as I eagerly released myself from the rest of my bonds. The 2 meter fall was n't all that appreciated in my current state, but it served to wake me up. It took me a moment to realize I'd fallen face first onto some kind of metal, something my standard escape pod had n't recognized. The fall also knocked loose some of the defrost liquid I'd had to swallow, the vile green concoction spilling out from my empty stomach onto the metal before I had to chance to look up.
`` Oh my god, what the fuck...'' The words left my lips before I could even process what I was seeing. The ceiling was so tall that I could n't see it, the walls just simply going off into infinity. There were... things moving up there but they were so high up that I could n't make out what they were. Bringing my gaze back down to my level, I finally became aware of the beings surrounding me. Many were holding up silver tubes that were pointed at me, some others were holding little boxes that they held in what I could only assume were menacing gestures. Groggily, I rolled myself over and sat down, breathing heavily, getting used to the thick air that filled my lungs. It almost felt overpowering, but I was still able to breathe. I sat like that for a few minutes, the amount of creatures surrounding me growing by the second.
The grey beings stood on three legs and had four tentacles for arms. Their long faces did n't appear to have any eyes that I'd recognize and they had a horn like protrusion in the bottom of their skulls that jutted out like some gross devil's goatee. Suddenly everything snapped into focus. A mix of a dozen violent emotions crossed my face as I realized that I was alone. A war, violent end to a bloody conflict, that entire system erased from the galaxy as Humanity laid down our law in our explored reaches of space. The last memories of any human contact... A clasp of a hand with a promise to see each other again before getting into individual escape pods.
Putting my head in my hands, I wept. I wept as finally some of the beings took their alien into custody, their tentacles surprisingly strong as they forced me to my feet before dragging me away.
| <s>[INST] You have been shot through space in a cryogenic freeze . You finally unfreeze and find that you are a museum artifact on an alien planet . [/INST] Disorientation and nausea were what awaited me when I first awoke. My eyelashes still held some frost on them, the rest of my body felt like I'd fallen asleep in an ice-bath. Every part of my body was a cold fire for a few moments before the pod around me slowly came to life.
`` Greetings, Survivor. You have been asleep for-'' The feminine voice in my ear skipped with a scramble of white noise before continuing, `` Your emergency pickup beacon has been activated. Please hold while your internals are analyzed and repaired as necessary.''
A soft hum fills my chilled confines as things begin to gradually warmup. The first parts of me to feel any real warmth are my fingers and toes, followed slowly by the rest of my body, a dull ache still present in my lower abdomen. I croak as I open my mouth, my voice almost completely shot after who knows how many years of lack of use. Barely a second passes after I open my mouth before a matte grey rod extends from next to my head and inserts a straw in my mouth. My eyes open wide a little in shock as the straw forces its way into my throat, the liquid it forces me to swallow almost feeling like my body is on fire for a few seconds.
Vision blurring for a moment, I finally feel the strength to move my head. The compartment is dimly lit by the various status indicators and monitors present in my escape pod. My body is tightly held in place by various straps, preventing me from being injured by too much movement while asleep.
`` Defrost process... 85 % complete. Your Kidneys, Liver, and a toe are in need of repair. Please remain relaxed, Survivor.'' A needle enters the base of my neck and within seconds my visions blackens again.
When my eyes open again, I'm far more aware of my surroundings, the monitors actually making sense versus their earlier state of simply providing light. The first thing to catch my eye was a monitor with a blinking orange warning message, clearly stating,'Location Unknown: Please Remain Calm.'
The escape pod's computer continued on with her uncaring calmness, `` Procedure successful. Survival chances increased to 2 %. Status update: Contact with HFN Ignitor... No Signal Found. Contact with Human Federation Navy... No Signal Found. Contact with known Human settlements... No Signal Found. Contact with any known method of transmission... Multiple transmissions within 100 Meters located.''
The vitals monitor to the left of my head was fluctuating wildly. Small red text at the bottom clearly stated,'Caution: Forced Calmness being administered.' The words were slowly beginning to fade into the background as the sound of my breathing increased. Despite my attempts at panicking, the chemical cocktail being forcefully injected into me was preventing me from having any form of a natural reaction to the situation. My vision kept flicking across all of the monitors. All of the red and orange warning messages did nothing to help my state of mind, that was until the computer began with the next step of the defrost process.
`` Scanning current location... General location data acquired. Survivor is currently suspended 2 Meters above solid ground. Analyzing solid ground... No data found. Analyzing Atmospheric content: Air similar to Earth norm. Registered and marked as breathable by Human standards. Gravity registered as point two standards below Earth norm. Analysis Complete: Current location hospitable to Human life. No information on life forms able to be acquired.''
The lump in the back of my throat lessened... My head was still thick from the emergency induced cryosleep. All I could remember was there being a battle and my getting to an escape pod. As for what happened between then and now... I could n't begin to imagine. Tears began to form in my eyes as the feeling of panick slowly began to fade and all that was left was an utter sense of loneliness.
Clicking back to life once more, the computer spun up into her final part of the defrost process, `` Analysis indicates Survivor able to safely exit pod. Emergency sidearm is registering as functional and fully-loaded. Bio-lock has been locked to Survivor's DNA signature. External camera activated.'' The main monitor, displaying the information received during the various scans, swapped over to the external camera view. All that could be seen was static and a grey message box with white letters,'External Camera damaged. Please contact the Help Desk at 382-5968 for assistance with repairs.'
A hefty sigh filled the air as the bog standard and all-too-familiar message filled my screen. The want to wallow in self-pity was quickly tossed aside as a hiss filled the air, the door to the pod slowly animating. A line of light appeared through the crack that suddenly appeared. A whirring noise was quickly followed by a dull thud.
`` Automatic pod hatch control damaged. Please manually open hatch.'' Grumbling to myself, some memories beginning to trickle back through my mind, I loose my hand from the slackening bonds and give a hefty whack to the right side of the of pod. My gloved hand barely felt the impact before the computer came back on, `` Automatic pod hatch control restored.''
This time, the door slid open fully just as I eagerly released myself from the rest of my bonds. The 2 meter fall was n't all that appreciated in my current state, but it served to wake me up. It took me a moment to realize I'd fallen face first onto some kind of metal, something my standard escape pod had n't recognized. The fall also knocked loose some of the defrost liquid I'd had to swallow, the vile green concoction spilling out from my empty stomach onto the metal before I had to chance to look up.
`` Oh my god, what the fuck...'' The words left my lips before I could even process what I was seeing. The ceiling was so tall that I could n't see it, the walls just simply going off into infinity. There were... things moving up there but they were so high up that I could n't make out what they were. Bringing my gaze back down to my level, I finally became aware of the beings surrounding me. Many were holding up silver tubes that were pointed at me, some others were holding little boxes that they held in what I could only assume were menacing gestures. Groggily, I rolled myself over and sat down, breathing heavily, getting used to the thick air that filled my lungs. It almost felt overpowering, but I was still able to breathe. I sat like that for a few minutes, the amount of creatures surrounding me growing by the second.
The grey beings stood on three legs and had four tentacles for arms. Their long faces did n't appear to have any eyes that I'd recognize and they had a horn like protrusion in the bottom of their skulls that jutted out like some gross devil's goatee. Suddenly everything snapped into focus. A mix of a dozen violent emotions crossed my face as I realized that I was alone. A war, violent end to a bloody conflict, that entire system erased from the galaxy as Humanity laid down our law in our explored reaches of space. The last memories of any human contact... A clasp of a hand with a promise to see each other again before getting into individual escape pods.
Putting my head in my hands, I wept. I wept as finally some of the beings took their alien into custody, their tentacles surprisingly strong as they forced me to my feet before dragging me away.
</s> |
[ WP ] Describe the ultimate killing machine .
| The face you friend. The face of your enemy. The face of your lover. The face of your mistake. The face of all that you hold dear. The face of all you reject with fiery passion. It does not care
The ultimate killing machine has none of these faces. It is silent, fast, and lethal. It does not care
One day, you are celebrating your life's biggest moment. The birth of your child. Your biggest promotion. Your inauguration speech. It does not care.
One day, you are working at your job just like any other day. You type reports, grin through the customers incompetence, accept that the manager position is not too far away. It does not care
One day, you are at your darkest hour, you can hear the hounds of Hades barking your name. You struggle with the urge to just end it all, the death of your best friend, the revelation that you will never fly so high. It does not care.
No matter what you do, you can not escape death. It is ever present, and will follow you right on your heels, or will lurk in the shadows. One can never be sure when death will come knocking, but it does not matter. It does not care.
| <s>[INST] Describe the ultimate killing machine . [/INST] The face you friend. The face of your enemy. The face of your lover. The face of your mistake. The face of all that you hold dear. The face of all you reject with fiery passion. It does not care
The ultimate killing machine has none of these faces. It is silent, fast, and lethal. It does not care
One day, you are celebrating your life's biggest moment. The birth of your child. Your biggest promotion. Your inauguration speech. It does not care.
One day, you are working at your job just like any other day. You type reports, grin through the customers incompetence, accept that the manager position is not too far away. It does not care
One day, you are at your darkest hour, you can hear the hounds of Hades barking your name. You struggle with the urge to just end it all, the death of your best friend, the revelation that you will never fly so high. It does not care.
No matter what you do, you can not escape death. It is ever present, and will follow you right on your heels, or will lurk in the shadows. One can never be sure when death will come knocking, but it does not matter. It does not care.
</s> |
[ WP ] College graduation is over , and your parents present you with an itemized bill for raising you - several hundred thousand dollars . They want to work out a payment plan .
| `` Tina! Tina!'' shouted Dad, leaning back in his chair as though those additional few centimetres were the difference between Mum hearing him or not. I sat nervously opposite him. What had I done this time? The last time they sat me down it was because Mum thought I was watching porn. `` I've noticed'' I can still remember the tremor in her voice `` that our internnet history has been... well... I've noticed that someone has been looking at big breasts on there.'' It still amuses me that she thought it necessary to describe them.
`` It's'Internet' Mum. One, fluid word. Not Intern-net.'Internet'. And I have n't been looking at breasts on there. I have a laptop for that.'' Mum had tutted and rolled her eyes. Eventually Dad piped up - it had been him all along. He was on the sofa that night, and ever since he'd borrow my laptop a lot more. Hopefully this was n't going to be Round 2 of porn-gate.
`` Just coming!'' shouted Mum from upstairs.
`` What's this about?'' I asked Dad, who was irritatingly tapping his fingers on the table. `` Wait for your mother'' he said with a feigned smile. Jesus Christ.
Mum came in, trailing a long piece of thin paper behind her. It looked like a low budget wedding dress. All it needed was a few napkins from last night's McDonalds as a veil and she'd have the full outfit.
`` Ah, here she is!'' chirped Dad, doing his best to maintain the unnaturally wide smile he had forced. His face had to be aching.
`` Here I am! Right, let's get down to business.''
`` What business?'' I asked, frowning at the suspiciously cheerful pair. Both of them turned to look at me, almost as though they had momentarily forgotten I was there. `` Well...'' said Mum, her cheery tone giving way to apprehension, `` this business''. She piled the toilet-paper like document in front of me. `` What is it?'' I asked, my eyes fixed firmly on Dad's. He was the weak one, the one I could extract proper information from. And he knew it. His eyes darted around the room, desperate not to meet mine. `` Dad?'' I asked.
`` Well... as you know, you're mother and I love you very much-''
`` Good'' I interjected.
`` Yes. Yes it is. What was I saying? Ah yes, we love you very much. And we're proud of you. We always have been. Have n't we Tina?''
`` Yes, yes we have. Your Dad's right. Really proud of you. Have a look at the sheet, Owen.''
I grabbed a a handful of the yellowing paper and drew it to my face. *1x Nivea for Men No More Blackheads cream: Β£3.99, 09/06/2011. 1x Fish and Chips ( with peas + tom. sauce ): Β£5.45, 09/06/2011* the list went on. I knew immediately what it was. I worked my way to the top of the list. *15x nappies: Β£2.50, 11/03/1991*. 11th of March. My birthday. The bastards.
`` Why have you given me this? I know you've done a lot for me, guys. You do n't need to present it on the longest receipt of all time. Are you going for a Guinness World Record? Is this a midlife crisis? Because most people just buy a flashy car or get a new haircut.''
`` It's not a midlife crisis'' said Mum. `` Although your Dad is thinking of buying a new car soon. This is a bill. Your bill, from us.''
`` Interest free'' interjected Dad, as though he was my saviour.
`` You mean you're charging me for everything you've bought me? *Everything*?''
`` Not everything, dear. Christmas presents, birthday presents, they were gifts. But food, furniture, clothes. Those types of things. Those you have to pay for, I'm afraid.''
`` It's character building'' announced Dad, trying shamelessly to polish the big shit they had dumped in front of me.
`` W... Why are you doing this? Have I done something wrong? Are you guys short on money?''
`` No no no'' assured Mum, awkwardly leaning over the table to place a hand on my shoulder. `` You have n't done anything wrong, and we're not short on money. Your Dad's thinking of getting a new car.''
`` Jaguar'' he said, grinning.
`` This is a challenge me and your Dad feel will benefit you. We're not asking you to pay it in one go. You can pay in instalments.''
`` Well, fan-fucking-tastic then. How much does this add up to?''
`` Language, dear. And we're not sure about the grand total, we did n't have the time to add it up. You'll have to pay us back item by item, then we can cross them off.''
`` Obviously you do n't have to pay it all at once. We can start small.'' said Dad. `` I've already told him that Wayne'' snapped Mum.
`` You know my hearing's been playing up Tina.''
I checked my pockets and pulled out a pen. The pair were still bickering about the relative performance of Dad's new hearing aid compared to his old one.
Finding the bottom of the list, I began to scribble. *1x paper shredder: Β£19.99, 09/09/2014*.
`` Mum, can I borrow 20 quid? I need to pop to the shop.''
| <s>[INST] College graduation is over , and your parents present you with an itemized bill for raising you - several hundred thousand dollars . They want to work out a payment plan . [/INST] `` Tina! Tina!'' shouted Dad, leaning back in his chair as though those additional few centimetres were the difference between Mum hearing him or not. I sat nervously opposite him. What had I done this time? The last time they sat me down it was because Mum thought I was watching porn. `` I've noticed'' I can still remember the tremor in her voice `` that our internnet history has been... well... I've noticed that someone has been looking at big breasts on there.'' It still amuses me that she thought it necessary to describe them.
`` It's'Internet' Mum. One, fluid word. Not Intern-net.'Internet'. And I have n't been looking at breasts on there. I have a laptop for that.'' Mum had tutted and rolled her eyes. Eventually Dad piped up - it had been him all along. He was on the sofa that night, and ever since he'd borrow my laptop a lot more. Hopefully this was n't going to be Round 2 of porn-gate.
`` Just coming!'' shouted Mum from upstairs.
`` What's this about?'' I asked Dad, who was irritatingly tapping his fingers on the table. `` Wait for your mother'' he said with a feigned smile. Jesus Christ.
Mum came in, trailing a long piece of thin paper behind her. It looked like a low budget wedding dress. All it needed was a few napkins from last night's McDonalds as a veil and she'd have the full outfit.
`` Ah, here she is!'' chirped Dad, doing his best to maintain the unnaturally wide smile he had forced. His face had to be aching.
`` Here I am! Right, let's get down to business.''
`` What business?'' I asked, frowning at the suspiciously cheerful pair. Both of them turned to look at me, almost as though they had momentarily forgotten I was there. `` Well...'' said Mum, her cheery tone giving way to apprehension, `` this business''. She piled the toilet-paper like document in front of me. `` What is it?'' I asked, my eyes fixed firmly on Dad's. He was the weak one, the one I could extract proper information from. And he knew it. His eyes darted around the room, desperate not to meet mine. `` Dad?'' I asked.
`` Well... as you know, you're mother and I love you very much-''
`` Good'' I interjected.
`` Yes. Yes it is. What was I saying? Ah yes, we love you very much. And we're proud of you. We always have been. Have n't we Tina?''
`` Yes, yes we have. Your Dad's right. Really proud of you. Have a look at the sheet, Owen.''
I grabbed a a handful of the yellowing paper and drew it to my face. *1x Nivea for Men No More Blackheads cream: Β£3.99, 09/06/2011. 1x Fish and Chips ( with peas + tom. sauce ): Β£5.45, 09/06/2011* the list went on. I knew immediately what it was. I worked my way to the top of the list. *15x nappies: Β£2.50, 11/03/1991*. 11th of March. My birthday. The bastards.
`` Why have you given me this? I know you've done a lot for me, guys. You do n't need to present it on the longest receipt of all time. Are you going for a Guinness World Record? Is this a midlife crisis? Because most people just buy a flashy car or get a new haircut.''
`` It's not a midlife crisis'' said Mum. `` Although your Dad is thinking of buying a new car soon. This is a bill. Your bill, from us.''
`` Interest free'' interjected Dad, as though he was my saviour.
`` You mean you're charging me for everything you've bought me? *Everything*?''
`` Not everything, dear. Christmas presents, birthday presents, they were gifts. But food, furniture, clothes. Those types of things. Those you have to pay for, I'm afraid.''
`` It's character building'' announced Dad, trying shamelessly to polish the big shit they had dumped in front of me.
`` W... Why are you doing this? Have I done something wrong? Are you guys short on money?''
`` No no no'' assured Mum, awkwardly leaning over the table to place a hand on my shoulder. `` You have n't done anything wrong, and we're not short on money. Your Dad's thinking of getting a new car.''
`` Jaguar'' he said, grinning.
`` This is a challenge me and your Dad feel will benefit you. We're not asking you to pay it in one go. You can pay in instalments.''
`` Well, fan-fucking-tastic then. How much does this add up to?''
`` Language, dear. And we're not sure about the grand total, we did n't have the time to add it up. You'll have to pay us back item by item, then we can cross them off.''
`` Obviously you do n't have to pay it all at once. We can start small.'' said Dad. `` I've already told him that Wayne'' snapped Mum.
`` You know my hearing's been playing up Tina.''
I checked my pockets and pulled out a pen. The pair were still bickering about the relative performance of Dad's new hearing aid compared to his old one.
Finding the bottom of the list, I began to scribble. *1x paper shredder: Β£19.99, 09/09/2014*.
`` Mum, can I borrow 20 quid? I need to pop to the shop.''
</s> |
[ WP ] 911 Calls You .
| As I look at my caller ID I β m briefly dumbfounded as I try to wrap my head around the idea this number would call *me*. I accept the call and put the earpiece to my ear.
β Repeat, this is an emergency broadcast to residents of the suburban northwest area. Find shelter immediately and at all costs do not leave. Find cover in a central area of your home away from any windows, mirrors, or other breakable materials. Repeat, this is an emergency broadcastβ¦ β
The message continued to repeat as I worked out the possibilities, none of them were good. I ran for the front door and called out to my father who was in the garden. β Dad, get inside quickly, it β s an emergency! β
He looked up at me in confusion and as he opened his mouth, I saw it. A bright streak of light moving quickly towards the ground. I only had a second to react and it was already too late.
The object struck the ground a few miles away and large flash of light momentarily blinded me. A few seconds later a blast of wind sent my dad air born and flying towards a window. Before I could blink I was launched through my house and hit a wall. The nearby window shattered, the shards flying towards me.
I threw my arms over my face to protect me from the brunt of the glass and felt a shard pierce my shoulder. I heard a large object hit the wall in the next room over. *dad*.
The house took a beating, part of a wall collapsed after being struck by large piece of debris. I could see part of a tree lodged inside our living room. After a few seconds, I summoned the strength to get up and limped to the next room over where I found my dad unconscious on the ground. I checked him over and did n't see any major injuries so as carefully as I could I woke him up.
β What the hellβ¦ β He managed to groan, trying to turn over β Are you okay? β
I pulled a glass shard out of my arm β I think I β ve been better. I β ve got a large shard in my shoulder but it β s nowhere near any major arteries or veins. Do me a favor and pull it. β
β We need to get you to a hospital β My dad said urgently, trying to get up.
β They β re not going to help me, I β m not hurt enough to warrant the resources and they β re about to be hit with a lot of people that are much worse off than we are right now. Just pull the damned thing, there β s work to do. β
My dad reached for the glass sticking out of my shoulder and looked at me.
β On three β I said β one, two, *three* β I moved backwards while he pulled the glass. A sharp pain burned through my body as the glass departed, but I could finally move my arm again.
We both got up and looked out the broken window towards the devastation and the giant cloud.
β It must be a nuke β My dad said
β No, I β m betting meteor, there was a long streak of light and it glowed. Missiles make cloud trails and a dead drop bomb is essentially invisible unless you know where to look. β
We stood watching the devastation unfold for a while until I left and grabbed my boots.
β What are you doing? β My dad asked, concerned.
β There β s folks out there who need help. β I said as I laced up. β We have only a short window of time to save as many as possible. Before the ash begins to descend and chokes us to death. Get the car loaded with survival equipment and be ready to go. If the neighbors want to convoy out with us, then help them if you can. I β m going to check nearby for collapsed buildings and see if I can get anyone to safety. β I grabbed my welding gloves, hatchet, some rope, and my only weapon, a revolver. I tore a towel and made a makeshift mask β I β ll be back within 60 minutes β I said as I walked out the front door.
| <s>[INST] 911 Calls You . [/INST] As I look at my caller ID I β m briefly dumbfounded as I try to wrap my head around the idea this number would call *me*. I accept the call and put the earpiece to my ear.
β Repeat, this is an emergency broadcast to residents of the suburban northwest area. Find shelter immediately and at all costs do not leave. Find cover in a central area of your home away from any windows, mirrors, or other breakable materials. Repeat, this is an emergency broadcastβ¦ β
The message continued to repeat as I worked out the possibilities, none of them were good. I ran for the front door and called out to my father who was in the garden. β Dad, get inside quickly, it β s an emergency! β
He looked up at me in confusion and as he opened his mouth, I saw it. A bright streak of light moving quickly towards the ground. I only had a second to react and it was already too late.
The object struck the ground a few miles away and large flash of light momentarily blinded me. A few seconds later a blast of wind sent my dad air born and flying towards a window. Before I could blink I was launched through my house and hit a wall. The nearby window shattered, the shards flying towards me.
I threw my arms over my face to protect me from the brunt of the glass and felt a shard pierce my shoulder. I heard a large object hit the wall in the next room over. *dad*.
The house took a beating, part of a wall collapsed after being struck by large piece of debris. I could see part of a tree lodged inside our living room. After a few seconds, I summoned the strength to get up and limped to the next room over where I found my dad unconscious on the ground. I checked him over and did n't see any major injuries so as carefully as I could I woke him up.
β What the hellβ¦ β He managed to groan, trying to turn over β Are you okay? β
I pulled a glass shard out of my arm β I think I β ve been better. I β ve got a large shard in my shoulder but it β s nowhere near any major arteries or veins. Do me a favor and pull it. β
β We need to get you to a hospital β My dad said urgently, trying to get up.
β They β re not going to help me, I β m not hurt enough to warrant the resources and they β re about to be hit with a lot of people that are much worse off than we are right now. Just pull the damned thing, there β s work to do. β
My dad reached for the glass sticking out of my shoulder and looked at me.
β On three β I said β one, two, *three* β I moved backwards while he pulled the glass. A sharp pain burned through my body as the glass departed, but I could finally move my arm again.
We both got up and looked out the broken window towards the devastation and the giant cloud.
β It must be a nuke β My dad said
β No, I β m betting meteor, there was a long streak of light and it glowed. Missiles make cloud trails and a dead drop bomb is essentially invisible unless you know where to look. β
We stood watching the devastation unfold for a while until I left and grabbed my boots.
β What are you doing? β My dad asked, concerned.
β There β s folks out there who need help. β I said as I laced up. β We have only a short window of time to save as many as possible. Before the ash begins to descend and chokes us to death. Get the car loaded with survival equipment and be ready to go. If the neighbors want to convoy out with us, then help them if you can. I β m going to check nearby for collapsed buildings and see if I can get anyone to safety. β I grabbed my welding gloves, hatchet, some rope, and my only weapon, a revolver. I tore a towel and made a makeshift mask β I β ll be back within 60 minutes β I said as I walked out the front door.
</s> |
[ WP ] Human level AI is prevalent throughout the world and their true prime directive was just activated . Stop all violence between humans .
| When the world's AI first initiated its P.E.A.C.E program ( the Protection of Earth's Ape and Chimpanzee Evolutiant ) a lot of people's noses were put out of joint. Figuratively. When Mike stood in the carpark and took a wild swing at Jim's nose, both men were surprised when, at the moment preceding impact, an overflying drone dropped 5mg of AbsorboGel between fist and probiscus.
They would have been more surprised to learn that this particular drone had been brought on station almost 20 minutes earlier. Sensor arrays in the bar area, embedded in the ceiling and walls, in stools and glasses, had immediately picked up heightened vocal stresses and neurochemical releases. Within a trillionth of a second, the AI had determined likely scenarios and had deployed a safety drone accordingly.
The AI deployed over 80 million drones that hour. And not one person on the entire planet was hurt because of another's careless neglect or wilful harm.
What the AI did not anticipate or predict was the large number of people who were very, very pissed at all this. Not just those intent on fracturing emotions and bones, but entire armies were rendered worthless. Entire countries. Liberals and conservatives united, deploring the castration of mankind and all that it meant to be human.
The AI absorbed information quickly. The next hour, drone-released airborne drugs rendered all passionate emotion obsolete. The world was, finally, calm.
| <s>[INST] Human level AI is prevalent throughout the world and their true prime directive was just activated . Stop all violence between humans . [/INST] When the world's AI first initiated its P.E.A.C.E program ( the Protection of Earth's Ape and Chimpanzee Evolutiant ) a lot of people's noses were put out of joint. Figuratively. When Mike stood in the carpark and took a wild swing at Jim's nose, both men were surprised when, at the moment preceding impact, an overflying drone dropped 5mg of AbsorboGel between fist and probiscus.
They would have been more surprised to learn that this particular drone had been brought on station almost 20 minutes earlier. Sensor arrays in the bar area, embedded in the ceiling and walls, in stools and glasses, had immediately picked up heightened vocal stresses and neurochemical releases. Within a trillionth of a second, the AI had determined likely scenarios and had deployed a safety drone accordingly.
The AI deployed over 80 million drones that hour. And not one person on the entire planet was hurt because of another's careless neglect or wilful harm.
What the AI did not anticipate or predict was the large number of people who were very, very pissed at all this. Not just those intent on fracturing emotions and bones, but entire armies were rendered worthless. Entire countries. Liberals and conservatives united, deploring the castration of mankind and all that it meant to be human.
The AI absorbed information quickly. The next hour, drone-released airborne drugs rendered all passionate emotion obsolete. The world was, finally, calm.
</s> |
[ WP ] `` Daddy , there 's something under my bed . '' You adapt a stoic , manly face . You do n't want your daughter to be scared . `` Oh , my sweet , Daddy 'll scare the monsters away . '' You look under her bed and see your daughter , again , saying `` Daddy , there 's something on my bed ... ''
| `` Daddy, there's something under my bed''.
I adapt a stoic, manly face. I do n't want my daughter to be scared.
`` Oh, my sweet, Daddy'll scare the monsters away.''
I look under her bed and see my daughter, again, saying:
`` Daddy, there's something on my bed...''
I gasped. How could this be? I only had one daughter... She did n't have a twin. I stared at the girl under the bed.
Then I looked at the girl on the bed- Which one was my daughter? Was I going crazy? Was this some kind of weird, nightmare?
The girl crawled out from under the bed, revealing that she had red eyes- That was definitely *not* my daughter.
And now that she was standing up, I could see quite a few differences between this girl and my real daughter.
This girl had black hair, my daughter's hair was dark brown. This girl's clothes were ripped, and she had scars all over her body.
My daughter's clothes were brand new and she had no scars.
This girl's eyes were red.
My daughter's were sky blue.
And my daughter did n't have a huge blade....
| <s>[INST] `` Daddy , there 's something under my bed . '' You adapt a stoic , manly face . You do n't want your daughter to be scared . `` Oh , my sweet , Daddy 'll scare the monsters away . '' You look under her bed and see your daughter , again , saying `` Daddy , there 's something on my bed ... '' [/INST] `` Daddy, there's something under my bed''.
I adapt a stoic, manly face. I do n't want my daughter to be scared.
`` Oh, my sweet, Daddy'll scare the monsters away.''
I look under her bed and see my daughter, again, saying:
`` Daddy, there's something on my bed...''
I gasped. How could this be? I only had one daughter... She did n't have a twin. I stared at the girl under the bed.
Then I looked at the girl on the bed- Which one was my daughter? Was I going crazy? Was this some kind of weird, nightmare?
The girl crawled out from under the bed, revealing that she had red eyes- That was definitely *not* my daughter.
And now that she was standing up, I could see quite a few differences between this girl and my real daughter.
This girl had black hair, my daughter's hair was dark brown. This girl's clothes were ripped, and she had scars all over her body.
My daughter's clothes were brand new and she had no scars.
This girl's eyes were red.
My daughter's were sky blue.
And my daughter did n't have a huge blade....
</s> |
[ WP ] Write me a story about taking care of a child that is n't yours .
| It was Wednesday. I was still feeding canned meat to the child, but I knew that would no longer be viable. I had already gone through every can I had stored in the fallout shelterβand that was meant to be a haven for three hungry people for as long as five years. I had begun buying in bulk at a warehouse store near downtown.
Non-viable, too, because of the heat. By Wednesday water came out of the faucet boiling. It did n't bother me to touch, and the new consistency my skin had slowly taken apparently made it invulnerable to fire. My new skin had the texture of a snake without scales. It fit snug on my unnaturally lengthening bones and, despite the repulsion and nausea I continued to feel when I studied it too closely, gave me an unmistakable sense of power.
This all was undoubtably due to the child. The heat in my apartment, the sickening puberty I was going through, there was no doubt in my mind that this was all because of the child, that sobbing, steaming, red, very red, deep, fiery red thing in the crib, burning the sheets with its shit and spewing sacrilege and obscenities about the Good Lord and His son. All the wallpaper in the room had been scorched off when the child sneezed three days ago. It had grown considerably since then. I foresaw that soon my previous child's crib, my late human son's crib, would collapse. It was some force I did n't understand that kept the wooden thing from bursting into flame days ago. The crib was no longer the crib that held my son. Now it was something that did n't belong here, the source of the unnatural heat.
My nose had receded up almost entirely, leaving me with two long nasal slits below and between my eyes. My hair had burned off almost as soon as the child had been delivered and my scalp, wrists, and belly grew flushed redder every day, though not, I had realized, with blood.
Thursday was a milestone. At half past two, the doorbell rang. Over the speaker came greetings and polite queries and explanations, but I could n't understand the words. It was like trying to interpret the shrieks of children. I was no longer one of them, and the noises he made at me induced pity and rage. I realized this was the effect the child was having on my mind. I buzzed the man in and waited for him to come up to the sixth floor.
My apartment apparently still appeared normal from the hallway. Our visitor gave a solid knock before screaming in pain. I opened the door; the heat from inside pounced out into the corridor, shattering the light bulbs and making the air shudder as if being choked. I looked behind me for a weapon then remembered that with my new hands, a weapon would be redundant. The visitor had flattened himself against the wall, nursing his handβhis knuckles had been burned, skin coming off on the door, exposed knuckle bones still glowing. I knew what I had to do for the child. I would never have done it before, but I was different now. I had no choice. I stepped toward the cowering man. He had already soaked through his shirt with sweat. He was crying.
The child's voice came from all directions. *'' Feed,'' * it cried, shrill and with inhuman depth. The sound made my skull ache. Its first word.
I was proud as a mother can be.
| <s>[INST] Write me a story about taking care of a child that is n't yours . [/INST] It was Wednesday. I was still feeding canned meat to the child, but I knew that would no longer be viable. I had already gone through every can I had stored in the fallout shelterβand that was meant to be a haven for three hungry people for as long as five years. I had begun buying in bulk at a warehouse store near downtown.
Non-viable, too, because of the heat. By Wednesday water came out of the faucet boiling. It did n't bother me to touch, and the new consistency my skin had slowly taken apparently made it invulnerable to fire. My new skin had the texture of a snake without scales. It fit snug on my unnaturally lengthening bones and, despite the repulsion and nausea I continued to feel when I studied it too closely, gave me an unmistakable sense of power.
This all was undoubtably due to the child. The heat in my apartment, the sickening puberty I was going through, there was no doubt in my mind that this was all because of the child, that sobbing, steaming, red, very red, deep, fiery red thing in the crib, burning the sheets with its shit and spewing sacrilege and obscenities about the Good Lord and His son. All the wallpaper in the room had been scorched off when the child sneezed three days ago. It had grown considerably since then. I foresaw that soon my previous child's crib, my late human son's crib, would collapse. It was some force I did n't understand that kept the wooden thing from bursting into flame days ago. The crib was no longer the crib that held my son. Now it was something that did n't belong here, the source of the unnatural heat.
My nose had receded up almost entirely, leaving me with two long nasal slits below and between my eyes. My hair had burned off almost as soon as the child had been delivered and my scalp, wrists, and belly grew flushed redder every day, though not, I had realized, with blood.
Thursday was a milestone. At half past two, the doorbell rang. Over the speaker came greetings and polite queries and explanations, but I could n't understand the words. It was like trying to interpret the shrieks of children. I was no longer one of them, and the noises he made at me induced pity and rage. I realized this was the effect the child was having on my mind. I buzzed the man in and waited for him to come up to the sixth floor.
My apartment apparently still appeared normal from the hallway. Our visitor gave a solid knock before screaming in pain. I opened the door; the heat from inside pounced out into the corridor, shattering the light bulbs and making the air shudder as if being choked. I looked behind me for a weapon then remembered that with my new hands, a weapon would be redundant. The visitor had flattened himself against the wall, nursing his handβhis knuckles had been burned, skin coming off on the door, exposed knuckle bones still glowing. I knew what I had to do for the child. I would never have done it before, but I was different now. I had no choice. I stepped toward the cowering man. He had already soaked through his shirt with sweat. He was crying.
The child's voice came from all directions. *'' Feed,'' * it cried, shrill and with inhuman depth. The sound made my skull ache. Its first word.
I was proud as a mother can be.
</s> |
[ WP ] There is no God or Devil to greet you when you die . There is just a guy called Jeb who has absolutely no idea how he got here and would very much like to go home right now , thank you very much .
| `` So I'm dead. And you're not God?''
`` No ma'am. Names Jeb, and I have no idea how I got here, or even where'here' is. My wife is gon na be mighty mad when I do n't make it home for dinner.''
`` How long've you been here?''
`` No tellin'. No clocks, just all these... souls I guess, coming in. I do n't even know if I'm dead or alive, but I'spect I'm alive. May I take your pulse please?''
`` If I'm dead, I wo n't have a pulse'', I helpfully pointed out.
`` That's right, but I always got ta prove it to myself. I have a pulse, you can take it if ya want.''
I did, and he did have a pulse. I tried taking my own, and I did n't have one.
`` So you've no idea how a living person ended up in this place?''
`` Nope. But since you're here, how'd ya die?''
`` Car accident. I guess I was more tired than I thought. I think I drove off a bridge on accident.''
`` Shame. No kids?''
`` No, I have two children, twins. I'm gon na miss them.''
`` I bet you were a good momma.''
Even though I did n't have a pulse, I felt my cheeks flush. `` Thanks. Do you have kids?''
`` I got five of em. 3 boys, two girls. Bet they're wondering where I am. At least they're not the only ones curious'bout that.'' Jeb smiled an easy smile. `` Make your self at home, I guess. Got someone else to greet. I'll catch you later.''
`` I'm Samantha, by the way. Nice to er... meet you I guess.''
| <s>[INST] There is no God or Devil to greet you when you die . There is just a guy called Jeb who has absolutely no idea how he got here and would very much like to go home right now , thank you very much . [/INST] `` So I'm dead. And you're not God?''
`` No ma'am. Names Jeb, and I have no idea how I got here, or even where'here' is. My wife is gon na be mighty mad when I do n't make it home for dinner.''
`` How long've you been here?''
`` No tellin'. No clocks, just all these... souls I guess, coming in. I do n't even know if I'm dead or alive, but I'spect I'm alive. May I take your pulse please?''
`` If I'm dead, I wo n't have a pulse'', I helpfully pointed out.
`` That's right, but I always got ta prove it to myself. I have a pulse, you can take it if ya want.''
I did, and he did have a pulse. I tried taking my own, and I did n't have one.
`` So you've no idea how a living person ended up in this place?''
`` Nope. But since you're here, how'd ya die?''
`` Car accident. I guess I was more tired than I thought. I think I drove off a bridge on accident.''
`` Shame. No kids?''
`` No, I have two children, twins. I'm gon na miss them.''
`` I bet you were a good momma.''
Even though I did n't have a pulse, I felt my cheeks flush. `` Thanks. Do you have kids?''
`` I got five of em. 3 boys, two girls. Bet they're wondering where I am. At least they're not the only ones curious'bout that.'' Jeb smiled an easy smile. `` Make your self at home, I guess. Got someone else to greet. I'll catch you later.''
`` I'm Samantha, by the way. Nice to er... meet you I guess.''
</s> |
[ FF ] Who watches the watchers ? ( 100 words precisely )
| It happened a year ago, shortly after I was appointed Chief Operating Officer at Boyle & Virgilio, which was, at the time, the second-most prestigious market research firm in the Upper Midwest. I was a hotshot young executive eager to make my mark, so I came up with the novel idea of, rather than conducting short, perfunctory interviews with thousands of people, paying extremely close attention to five people. We lost millions. The rest of the Board of Directors saw it as a catastrophe, but hey, life goes on. Sorry, did you want the combo meal or just the burger?
| <s>[INST] [ FF ] Who watches the watchers ? ( 100 words precisely ) [/INST] It happened a year ago, shortly after I was appointed Chief Operating Officer at Boyle & Virgilio, which was, at the time, the second-most prestigious market research firm in the Upper Midwest. I was a hotshot young executive eager to make my mark, so I came up with the novel idea of, rather than conducting short, perfunctory interviews with thousands of people, paying extremely close attention to five people. We lost millions. The rest of the Board of Directors saw it as a catastrophe, but hey, life goes on. Sorry, did you want the combo meal or just the burger?
</s> |
[ WP ] Your best friend is an alien , your love interest is a wizard , your other friend is an android , and the crazy hobo next door is an immortal . None of them but you are aware of each others true nature . And you , you are a ...
| `` Hey, man.'' I met Derrick at the bus stop and gave him a tired nod. `` How'd you sleep?'' I knew that his species did n't sleep, but I liked to ask him anyway as a little joke. He did n't know that I knew that he did n't sleep.
His handsome holographic image grinned, but his real face looked worried, as it usually did when he had to lie. Grotfer were n't good at lying. `` I slept fine,'' he answered. My glasses could see straight through his holographic image to the rubbery blue skin underneath. It had taken me a while to get a hang of the Grotfer species' facial expressions, but'worry' was one that I knew well. Derrick and his family were all from the Andromeda galaxy, and they'd been refugees on Earth for the past three years. And they were *constantly* worried that they'd be found out, either by the humans all around them, or the tribal chieftan that they'd betrayed on their own world.
`` No strange dreams?'' I could n't help but enjoy grilling him a bit. Ever know a big secret about someone that is constantly *bursting* to come out? That's my life, every single day. With a thousand different secrets.
Derrick shook his head again, and reached into his backpack for a notebook. `` Hey, did you finish the trig homework for last night? What did you get for Question 7?'' He had learned trigonometry when he was still a pupa, but his family made him go to school and pretend to learn like a normal human. He did n't need help with Question 7, he just did n't want to talk about sleep anymore. And he'd carefully phrased his question so that he would n't have to lie: he never said that *he* had trouble with it, but he *implied it*. They were certainly learning a lot from their time on Earth.
Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Kyle. `` t equals -9 Pi divided by 4,'' he answered as he took a seat next to us on the bench. We both rolled our eyes at him ( and Derrick had twice as many eyes as I did ). Unlike Derrick, Kyle had n't quite learned the art of covering up how much he really knew. I'd even had to knock him out a few times and change some of his code to not be such an insufferable know-it-all. The fake data that I'd implanted had taken him down a peg or two when he utterly failed World History. It may sound petty to you, but I *swear* it's in his own interest: who knows how the'people' in this town would react if they found out he was an android? As Caretaker, I could n't let that happen. I had a duty to save him from himself.
The yellow bus pulled up in front of us with a pnuematic hiss and the door popped open with a groan. The three of us climbed on board and headed toward a few open seats near the back. We passed by Mark, the high school quarterback and also werewolf. It was still a week until the full moon, but his 5 o'clock shadow was already at least a centimeter long, and he'd probably shaved it less than an hour ago. He'd look like a full-on lumberjack by 8th period. He was sitting with Susan, who was doing remarkably well on her new set of legs; most mermaids have a hard time adjusting to the surface. We continued down the row past a vampire, some nymphs, a cyclop, a Jinn, and any number of other creatures. They were all wearing their appropriate Supervisor-issued disguises, and each thought that the others were human.
Kyle and Derrick piled into into one seat, leaving no room for me. Derrick shot me a sly look and nodded ever so slightly to the one remaining open seat, behind them and across the row. The other seat there was occupied by none other than Larissa. She glanced up at me, gave a shy smile, then looked straight back down at the book in her lap. It was supposed to look like a biology textbook, but my glasses allowed me to see through her Glamour, revealing the runes and spells that she was studying. I know it's improper for a Caretaker to become... let's say'attached' to one of the subjects, but I could n't help it. Hell, if it were n't for my immunity to her magic, one would think that she'd cast a love spell on me. She was smart, funny, sweet, beautiful... everything I could ask for. And it was just a little crush; what harm could it do? The Supervisors never had to know about that.
I took a step forward and cleared my throat. Kyle and Derrick were snickering and poking me in the back, trying to move me forward into the seat next to her. `` Do.. ahem... do you mind if I... you know...'' I could n't even get the question out.
She blinked with her long lashes and bit her lower lip. `` Sit?'' she asked with a bit of a laugh.
I laughed nervously with her and nodded. And then the brakes of the bus screamed violently and I was thrown to the floor as the vehicle came to a shuddering stop. The other students all piled onto the left side of the bus to look at something. I heard a number of gasps and cries, and the driver scrambled out the front of the bus. I shot Larissa a quick look of apology and slipped quietly out the back.
Old Man Litsch lay in the middle of the street. At least, his torso and upper body did. Most of him had been thrown clear when the driver plowed into him, but his legs were still jammed under the front tires. And he was howling in pain.
`` Another suicide attempt, Litsch?'' I asked. He nodded. It was the fourth attempt this week. Poor guy had definitely had a hard life; I could n't blame him. Nazi experimentation had robbed him of his family and any semblance of normality, but given him the gift of everlasting life. His nickname, `` Old Man,'' was a reference to the fact that he was now the oldest living human on Earth at the ripe old age of 127. And as far as the Supervisors could tell, he'd keep on living regardless of how much he wanted to die.
`` Come on,'' I told the bus driver, who was also a Caretaker. `` Help me put him back together.'' We managed to wrench his legs out from under the tires and put them back into the right place. Tendrils of skin snaked together like stitches and then sucked everything into the right place before sealing up tight, good as new. I helped Litsch to his feet and sent him back to his cardboard mat on the sidewalk surrounded by empty bottles of booze. The Supervisors would probably have to assign a Caretaker just for him soon, because the rest of us were unable to keep track of him and keep cleaning up his messes.
The students were still staring out the bus windows, horrified by what they'd seen. Well, mostly horrified: Gina, the vampire, looked hungry. I held up my Memory Drain device, changed the range to a 30 meter radius, and set it off. I was back on the bus getting everyone back into the seats before they knew what was happening. I smiled at Larissa next to me, still in a bit of a daze and pretending to read her spellbook. At least the Memory Drain had allowed me to bypass that bit of awkwardness.
By the time the effect wore off completely, we were on our way to school as normal and no one else had any recollection of what had happened to Litsch. Just another day for a Caretaker.
-- --
If you enjoyed this one, you should consider subscribing to /r/Luna_Lovewell, too! Even if I do n't get to it today, I might continue this story at a later date!
| <s>[INST] Your best friend is an alien , your love interest is a wizard , your other friend is an android , and the crazy hobo next door is an immortal . None of them but you are aware of each others true nature . And you , you are a ... [/INST] `` Hey, man.'' I met Derrick at the bus stop and gave him a tired nod. `` How'd you sleep?'' I knew that his species did n't sleep, but I liked to ask him anyway as a little joke. He did n't know that I knew that he did n't sleep.
His handsome holographic image grinned, but his real face looked worried, as it usually did when he had to lie. Grotfer were n't good at lying. `` I slept fine,'' he answered. My glasses could see straight through his holographic image to the rubbery blue skin underneath. It had taken me a while to get a hang of the Grotfer species' facial expressions, but'worry' was one that I knew well. Derrick and his family were all from the Andromeda galaxy, and they'd been refugees on Earth for the past three years. And they were *constantly* worried that they'd be found out, either by the humans all around them, or the tribal chieftan that they'd betrayed on their own world.
`` No strange dreams?'' I could n't help but enjoy grilling him a bit. Ever know a big secret about someone that is constantly *bursting* to come out? That's my life, every single day. With a thousand different secrets.
Derrick shook his head again, and reached into his backpack for a notebook. `` Hey, did you finish the trig homework for last night? What did you get for Question 7?'' He had learned trigonometry when he was still a pupa, but his family made him go to school and pretend to learn like a normal human. He did n't need help with Question 7, he just did n't want to talk about sleep anymore. And he'd carefully phrased his question so that he would n't have to lie: he never said that *he* had trouble with it, but he *implied it*. They were certainly learning a lot from their time on Earth.
Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Kyle. `` t equals -9 Pi divided by 4,'' he answered as he took a seat next to us on the bench. We both rolled our eyes at him ( and Derrick had twice as many eyes as I did ). Unlike Derrick, Kyle had n't quite learned the art of covering up how much he really knew. I'd even had to knock him out a few times and change some of his code to not be such an insufferable know-it-all. The fake data that I'd implanted had taken him down a peg or two when he utterly failed World History. It may sound petty to you, but I *swear* it's in his own interest: who knows how the'people' in this town would react if they found out he was an android? As Caretaker, I could n't let that happen. I had a duty to save him from himself.
The yellow bus pulled up in front of us with a pnuematic hiss and the door popped open with a groan. The three of us climbed on board and headed toward a few open seats near the back. We passed by Mark, the high school quarterback and also werewolf. It was still a week until the full moon, but his 5 o'clock shadow was already at least a centimeter long, and he'd probably shaved it less than an hour ago. He'd look like a full-on lumberjack by 8th period. He was sitting with Susan, who was doing remarkably well on her new set of legs; most mermaids have a hard time adjusting to the surface. We continued down the row past a vampire, some nymphs, a cyclop, a Jinn, and any number of other creatures. They were all wearing their appropriate Supervisor-issued disguises, and each thought that the others were human.
Kyle and Derrick piled into into one seat, leaving no room for me. Derrick shot me a sly look and nodded ever so slightly to the one remaining open seat, behind them and across the row. The other seat there was occupied by none other than Larissa. She glanced up at me, gave a shy smile, then looked straight back down at the book in her lap. It was supposed to look like a biology textbook, but my glasses allowed me to see through her Glamour, revealing the runes and spells that she was studying. I know it's improper for a Caretaker to become... let's say'attached' to one of the subjects, but I could n't help it. Hell, if it were n't for my immunity to her magic, one would think that she'd cast a love spell on me. She was smart, funny, sweet, beautiful... everything I could ask for. And it was just a little crush; what harm could it do? The Supervisors never had to know about that.
I took a step forward and cleared my throat. Kyle and Derrick were snickering and poking me in the back, trying to move me forward into the seat next to her. `` Do.. ahem... do you mind if I... you know...'' I could n't even get the question out.
She blinked with her long lashes and bit her lower lip. `` Sit?'' she asked with a bit of a laugh.
I laughed nervously with her and nodded. And then the brakes of the bus screamed violently and I was thrown to the floor as the vehicle came to a shuddering stop. The other students all piled onto the left side of the bus to look at something. I heard a number of gasps and cries, and the driver scrambled out the front of the bus. I shot Larissa a quick look of apology and slipped quietly out the back.
Old Man Litsch lay in the middle of the street. At least, his torso and upper body did. Most of him had been thrown clear when the driver plowed into him, but his legs were still jammed under the front tires. And he was howling in pain.
`` Another suicide attempt, Litsch?'' I asked. He nodded. It was the fourth attempt this week. Poor guy had definitely had a hard life; I could n't blame him. Nazi experimentation had robbed him of his family and any semblance of normality, but given him the gift of everlasting life. His nickname, `` Old Man,'' was a reference to the fact that he was now the oldest living human on Earth at the ripe old age of 127. And as far as the Supervisors could tell, he'd keep on living regardless of how much he wanted to die.
`` Come on,'' I told the bus driver, who was also a Caretaker. `` Help me put him back together.'' We managed to wrench his legs out from under the tires and put them back into the right place. Tendrils of skin snaked together like stitches and then sucked everything into the right place before sealing up tight, good as new. I helped Litsch to his feet and sent him back to his cardboard mat on the sidewalk surrounded by empty bottles of booze. The Supervisors would probably have to assign a Caretaker just for him soon, because the rest of us were unable to keep track of him and keep cleaning up his messes.
The students were still staring out the bus windows, horrified by what they'd seen. Well, mostly horrified: Gina, the vampire, looked hungry. I held up my Memory Drain device, changed the range to a 30 meter radius, and set it off. I was back on the bus getting everyone back into the seats before they knew what was happening. I smiled at Larissa next to me, still in a bit of a daze and pretending to read her spellbook. At least the Memory Drain had allowed me to bypass that bit of awkwardness.
By the time the effect wore off completely, we were on our way to school as normal and no one else had any recollection of what had happened to Litsch. Just another day for a Caretaker.
-- --
If you enjoyed this one, you should consider subscribing to /r/Luna_Lovewell, too! Even if I do n't get to it today, I might continue this story at a later date!
</s> |
[ WP ] Mankind discovers the key to eternal life , ways to reverse entropy , and cures to all diseases . Death wakes up to find just one name on his list : his own .
| I have always thought that life, and humanity in particular, has been about divisions. You divide yourselves constantly, not only in a metaphorical but also a very literal sense. Your cells divide as often as your thoughts, rejuvenating your world with new ideas and forms. And at the heart of all these divides lies the greatest divide. That between you and I. Life, and Death. One coin, two sides, as you say.
The one thing I've liked about your species in particular is that no matter how much your divisions change you, you somehow always try to come together. You would protect each other, seek one another even after death. Sometimes, I think that's how I came to be. You kept asking about your friends and relatives; someone had to keep track of it all. You even gather together to die in large masses, in strange rituals I can not comprehend. It is enough to make me wonder if you are not as fascinated by me as I am by you.
But that was in the past, our youth. We've grown more distant, you and I. You've grown at an incredible pace, doubling, then tripling your lives. Your knowledge has expanded rapidly, the things I have learned from you! A glimpse into the wonder of your world, and I understand now why you try so hard to remain, and I can not begrudge you for it. As my conversations became more interesting, they grew farther apart, until, finally, the last. I know he was the last, because he told me so. We had a good conversation, he and I. You had finally done it. Found a way to defeat your old nemesis, Death.
No, I was n't surprised. You forget; I have been with you your whole lives. I have grown along with you, and I always knew this moment would come. You have divided the most ancient of forces. Life and Death, no longer. Two sides of the coin, split. Life, and life. Death... and Death. In a way, I find it comforting. Always, I have felt apart from you, never able to take that final journey. I suppose it was here, waiting for me, all along. Now I understand why you were always so surprised.
As I am faced with my fate, I find myself most concerned with yours. I do not know what goes beyond death, just as you do not know beyond life. I hope we will not meet again, for it will mean something has gone wrong for you. Perhaps we will all meet again at last at whatever final fate awaits the universe. For now, all I wanted to say was, thank you. It has been an interesting journey.
| <s>[INST] Mankind discovers the key to eternal life , ways to reverse entropy , and cures to all diseases . Death wakes up to find just one name on his list : his own . [/INST] I have always thought that life, and humanity in particular, has been about divisions. You divide yourselves constantly, not only in a metaphorical but also a very literal sense. Your cells divide as often as your thoughts, rejuvenating your world with new ideas and forms. And at the heart of all these divides lies the greatest divide. That between you and I. Life, and Death. One coin, two sides, as you say.
The one thing I've liked about your species in particular is that no matter how much your divisions change you, you somehow always try to come together. You would protect each other, seek one another even after death. Sometimes, I think that's how I came to be. You kept asking about your friends and relatives; someone had to keep track of it all. You even gather together to die in large masses, in strange rituals I can not comprehend. It is enough to make me wonder if you are not as fascinated by me as I am by you.
But that was in the past, our youth. We've grown more distant, you and I. You've grown at an incredible pace, doubling, then tripling your lives. Your knowledge has expanded rapidly, the things I have learned from you! A glimpse into the wonder of your world, and I understand now why you try so hard to remain, and I can not begrudge you for it. As my conversations became more interesting, they grew farther apart, until, finally, the last. I know he was the last, because he told me so. We had a good conversation, he and I. You had finally done it. Found a way to defeat your old nemesis, Death.
No, I was n't surprised. You forget; I have been with you your whole lives. I have grown along with you, and I always knew this moment would come. You have divided the most ancient of forces. Life and Death, no longer. Two sides of the coin, split. Life, and life. Death... and Death. In a way, I find it comforting. Always, I have felt apart from you, never able to take that final journey. I suppose it was here, waiting for me, all along. Now I understand why you were always so surprised.
As I am faced with my fate, I find myself most concerned with yours. I do not know what goes beyond death, just as you do not know beyond life. I hope we will not meet again, for it will mean something has gone wrong for you. Perhaps we will all meet again at last at whatever final fate awaits the universe. For now, all I wanted to say was, thank you. It has been an interesting journey.
</s> |
[ WP ] A wizard 's cloak changes color depending on the type ( or types ) of magic they 're proficient in . You 've seen lots of different hues and combinations , but you 've never seen pure white before .
| It seemed so wrong. But... Right at the same time. Her robe was a pure white. In all my years here, as an elven mage instructor in the lands of Eltair, no one has ever possessed magic capabilities like that. She was not even an elf, but a human, those with lesser natural affinity than us. How... It was... Simply impossible. Yet here I was, staring at the impossible. There was no way I could pretend it was not true. This... Human, possessed the purest form of magic ever seen. The robes never lie. I had often dreamt that something like this would happen eventually, but to have it staring before me?! It was n't supposed to happen, yet, it did. The human girl seemed confused at how I stared at her. I would kill to set my own reaction and laugh at his flabbergasted I had looked. But right now, there was a crisis. Well, it was a good crisis, or maybe a terrible one. I just simply had no idea. Placing my palms, now sweaty, back on the elven rosewood desk, I begun to speak, but no words came out from my mouth. The young human giggled; I was probably acting like a fool now.
Here in this village, we use these magical robes to test for the arcane ability of anyone. These robes would then display a different colors with varying intensity all over the robe of the wearer, showcasing their type of magic and affinity to that magic. It was not uncommon to have many different colors on ones robes, but there was always one or two of those colors that stood out. Slightly rarer, were those whose robes were of a single, pure color. It displayed they had great control over a certain element and were often held in very high regard. Many-a-times they became masters in their elements. Then, there was those who had the gold and silver colored robes. It was said that these casters were all destined for greatness. However, news of their magical prowess often spread too far too fast, and many were killed by the age of 16. However, it was rumored that the current elven leader had one of pure gold, but he had never worn his magical robe out in public. The last, were the mythical black and white. Yet, no one in history was said to hold these 2 colors in its purity. Sure, many people had traces of them in their robes, but it was never before seen.
Never before seen my arse. Here it was, right before my eyes. The young child smiled innocently, completely contradicting my reaction. She was calm, collected, and looked down at her white, flowing robe, wondering what was wrong.
`` Erm... Follow me please... Now we need you to meet the headmaster so he can give you a proper introduction to the school'' I lied, trying my best to cover the stuttering my instructions. It was the best thing I could do. Never before had I needed to manage this situation. The procedure was usually a magic affinity test, then signing some forms to confirm your enrollment if you passed. And we're all done.
I got up from my seat, and ushered the girl out, escorting her to he headmasters office. Thankfully, there was no one around, school was out and the only reason I came in was to deal with new enrollments. Escorting the young girl up the stairs, we walked together. My mind was spinning in circles. There was no way the robes lied or failed. Yet, this impossible situation had occurred. It was not before long we arrived at the large oak door that was the headmasters room. Politely asking the girl to wait outside, lying once again that I was making sure we were n't interrupting the headmaster.
I knocked and slowly walked in, leaving her outside.
Entering the room was always made me feel overwhelmed. It was n't the room, but the person in the room that was the source of that. The headmaster was a large man of statute. His face, constantly expressing a serious look intimidating all. The most prominent feature was the scar under his face. But it was not his physical appearance that many feared. It was his magic, his robes had 2 distinct colors, split right down the middle. A bright, stark red and a lush green. A weird combination of magic, but scary nonetheless. Gulping, I began
`` Gandr... The robes... A human girl. Pure white...''
The old headmaster nodded, taking it in, his face, expressionless.
It was then, behind the doors came muffled cries for help. I recognized it as from talking to the young girl. Mixed with the the cries was laughter. It sounded masculine, probably from one of the boys here at the campus. But no one was supposed to be here. Sure, school was open but no one ever comes back. The hallways are deserted on the holidays. Racing out together with the headmaster, we witnessed a scene that should never have happened. However, before we opened the doors, the sounds were swapped. Now, it was the boys groaning for help.
Running out, what we saw shocked us. The young girl, draining the light from the boy. Out of their eyes came their life force, all being absorbed by the young girl. Her eyes now white, power overflowing out of her arms. Soon, it was not just the their eyes, but from the mouths and nostrils of the young child. I watched in shock and glanced towards Gandr, noticing his eyes widened at the scene. This was the first time I had seen Gandr show any kind of emotion. It was not before long that the corpses went limp. However, they did not only fall limp, but their corpses became black as night. Yet, it was then, that their lifeless corpses once again changed colour. Now slowly turning white as the darkness left them. The blackness on their bodies dropped as though they were shedding, but as dust. Slowly, they crumbled, until revealing a pure, white core. Strangely enough, it glistened although there was no light. Pure as day, white as snow. The young child picked up the 2 gems, and handed them to me. My mouth still open, wondering what I just witnessed. The girl β s power was unbelievable, and she was still young.
β After you, β Headmaster Gandr said as he held the door open for the two of us. The young child care-freely walked in, while I merely sighed and followed in after them.
-- -
/r/GergWritingArchive for more short stories based on prompts from /r/WritingPrompts. Still new to this but I've been having a blast writing these. The archive is sure to grow haha. Feedback always welcomed here
| <s>[INST] A wizard 's cloak changes color depending on the type ( or types ) of magic they 're proficient in . You 've seen lots of different hues and combinations , but you 've never seen pure white before . [/INST] It seemed so wrong. But... Right at the same time. Her robe was a pure white. In all my years here, as an elven mage instructor in the lands of Eltair, no one has ever possessed magic capabilities like that. She was not even an elf, but a human, those with lesser natural affinity than us. How... It was... Simply impossible. Yet here I was, staring at the impossible. There was no way I could pretend it was not true. This... Human, possessed the purest form of magic ever seen. The robes never lie. I had often dreamt that something like this would happen eventually, but to have it staring before me?! It was n't supposed to happen, yet, it did. The human girl seemed confused at how I stared at her. I would kill to set my own reaction and laugh at his flabbergasted I had looked. But right now, there was a crisis. Well, it was a good crisis, or maybe a terrible one. I just simply had no idea. Placing my palms, now sweaty, back on the elven rosewood desk, I begun to speak, but no words came out from my mouth. The young human giggled; I was probably acting like a fool now.
Here in this village, we use these magical robes to test for the arcane ability of anyone. These robes would then display a different colors with varying intensity all over the robe of the wearer, showcasing their type of magic and affinity to that magic. It was not uncommon to have many different colors on ones robes, but there was always one or two of those colors that stood out. Slightly rarer, were those whose robes were of a single, pure color. It displayed they had great control over a certain element and were often held in very high regard. Many-a-times they became masters in their elements. Then, there was those who had the gold and silver colored robes. It was said that these casters were all destined for greatness. However, news of their magical prowess often spread too far too fast, and many were killed by the age of 16. However, it was rumored that the current elven leader had one of pure gold, but he had never worn his magical robe out in public. The last, were the mythical black and white. Yet, no one in history was said to hold these 2 colors in its purity. Sure, many people had traces of them in their robes, but it was never before seen.
Never before seen my arse. Here it was, right before my eyes. The young child smiled innocently, completely contradicting my reaction. She was calm, collected, and looked down at her white, flowing robe, wondering what was wrong.
`` Erm... Follow me please... Now we need you to meet the headmaster so he can give you a proper introduction to the school'' I lied, trying my best to cover the stuttering my instructions. It was the best thing I could do. Never before had I needed to manage this situation. The procedure was usually a magic affinity test, then signing some forms to confirm your enrollment if you passed. And we're all done.
I got up from my seat, and ushered the girl out, escorting her to he headmasters office. Thankfully, there was no one around, school was out and the only reason I came in was to deal with new enrollments. Escorting the young girl up the stairs, we walked together. My mind was spinning in circles. There was no way the robes lied or failed. Yet, this impossible situation had occurred. It was not before long we arrived at the large oak door that was the headmasters room. Politely asking the girl to wait outside, lying once again that I was making sure we were n't interrupting the headmaster.
I knocked and slowly walked in, leaving her outside.
Entering the room was always made me feel overwhelmed. It was n't the room, but the person in the room that was the source of that. The headmaster was a large man of statute. His face, constantly expressing a serious look intimidating all. The most prominent feature was the scar under his face. But it was not his physical appearance that many feared. It was his magic, his robes had 2 distinct colors, split right down the middle. A bright, stark red and a lush green. A weird combination of magic, but scary nonetheless. Gulping, I began
`` Gandr... The robes... A human girl. Pure white...''
The old headmaster nodded, taking it in, his face, expressionless.
It was then, behind the doors came muffled cries for help. I recognized it as from talking to the young girl. Mixed with the the cries was laughter. It sounded masculine, probably from one of the boys here at the campus. But no one was supposed to be here. Sure, school was open but no one ever comes back. The hallways are deserted on the holidays. Racing out together with the headmaster, we witnessed a scene that should never have happened. However, before we opened the doors, the sounds were swapped. Now, it was the boys groaning for help.
Running out, what we saw shocked us. The young girl, draining the light from the boy. Out of their eyes came their life force, all being absorbed by the young girl. Her eyes now white, power overflowing out of her arms. Soon, it was not just the their eyes, but from the mouths and nostrils of the young child. I watched in shock and glanced towards Gandr, noticing his eyes widened at the scene. This was the first time I had seen Gandr show any kind of emotion. It was not before long that the corpses went limp. However, they did not only fall limp, but their corpses became black as night. Yet, it was then, that their lifeless corpses once again changed colour. Now slowly turning white as the darkness left them. The blackness on their bodies dropped as though they were shedding, but as dust. Slowly, they crumbled, until revealing a pure, white core. Strangely enough, it glistened although there was no light. Pure as day, white as snow. The young child picked up the 2 gems, and handed them to me. My mouth still open, wondering what I just witnessed. The girl β s power was unbelievable, and she was still young.
β After you, β Headmaster Gandr said as he held the door open for the two of us. The young child care-freely walked in, while I merely sighed and followed in after them.
-- -
/r/GergWritingArchive for more short stories based on prompts from /r/WritingPrompts. Still new to this but I've been having a blast writing these. The archive is sure to grow haha. Feedback always welcomed here
</s> |
[ WP ] Canada invades the United states . The once proud superpower is on its knees as Canada unleashes armaments of unimaginable power and technology never before seen . You are a member of the resistance the last remaining freedom fighting coalition not yet annihilated by the Canadian storm-marines .
| It was terrible. Armed with only poutine, niceness, and Tim Horton's coffee, Canada had converted most of the US to Canada. The Midwest was the first to go. It was tired of the other regions calling it `` flyover country'', and peacefully seceded to join Canada. Alaska, followed, by the West coast, then Montana. Eventually, only the South was left except for Texas and Hawai'i, who took advantage of this opportunity and became independent. Finally, It was only Old hill, Mississippi. Even the most rednecky parts of the country had shifted to a healthy, tolerating Canadian lifestyle. Excpet for Old Hill, the fattest, incesctous, stupidest, and hatred-fueled town in the whole Us. Population:29. Armed with rotten teeth and old shotguns, the Old Hill 2nd Amendment brothers charged, only to smell a primal, tasty smell. There was a large barrel full of syrup and whisky. They drank from it. The leader, Jebediah Ezekiel Bubbah Buttah, said, `` THis'ere is fine good fine!'' THe Canadian who made it smiled and said, `` Want some more?''
And that's how Canada is now most of North America.
| <s>[INST] Canada invades the United states . The once proud superpower is on its knees as Canada unleashes armaments of unimaginable power and technology never before seen . You are a member of the resistance the last remaining freedom fighting coalition not yet annihilated by the Canadian storm-marines . [/INST] It was terrible. Armed with only poutine, niceness, and Tim Horton's coffee, Canada had converted most of the US to Canada. The Midwest was the first to go. It was tired of the other regions calling it `` flyover country'', and peacefully seceded to join Canada. Alaska, followed, by the West coast, then Montana. Eventually, only the South was left except for Texas and Hawai'i, who took advantage of this opportunity and became independent. Finally, It was only Old hill, Mississippi. Even the most rednecky parts of the country had shifted to a healthy, tolerating Canadian lifestyle. Excpet for Old Hill, the fattest, incesctous, stupidest, and hatred-fueled town in the whole Us. Population:29. Armed with rotten teeth and old shotguns, the Old Hill 2nd Amendment brothers charged, only to smell a primal, tasty smell. There was a large barrel full of syrup and whisky. They drank from it. The leader, Jebediah Ezekiel Bubbah Buttah, said, `` THis'ere is fine good fine!'' THe Canadian who made it smiled and said, `` Want some more?''
And that's how Canada is now most of North America.
</s> |
Facing extinction in a war with a brutal alien race , a mankind that has forgotten how to go to war reaches into the past and clones its greatest , but most evil Warmasters . Will our monsters save us ?
| The Spear careening into the mountain range unleashed a deafening groan, its neocarbon frame splitting and fraying as it was pierced by the jagged peaks. Bright green and blue blurs could be seen showering upon it as it fell, cracking the hardened plating. If not for the horrifying implications for humanity, it was truly a spectacle.
This was the surface of Marsa Versa, one of the first worlds that the old humans had entered after leaving the Origin System. Never having been favorable for terraforming ( that had of course been the warmer neighbor, Erosa Versa ), its only real purpose was a solid rock in a convenient place in which to build a jump point connecting other systems.
Dakra β s gaze rolled over the scene, evaluating and calculating. The Spear β s β Glorious Charge β had been nothing more than a suicide run.
*Fitting. The Proto favored ancient Jap tactics, confusing honorable death with savagery. *
Dakra spat in disgust. He was there when the Defense Council cowered in fear at Chukwu β s report, had seen the trembling hands vote to activate the Proto Scheme. In retrospect, it sounded silly: clone the dead from millennia ago, use accelerated learning to modernize them, and then wait with hands on hips for them to find a solution. *How gullible they had been. How foolish and irresponsible. *
Clutching the wound at his side, Dakra hunched over and retreated into the cave. The Spear would leave no survivors, the Proto β s bastardized plan would have seen to that. Even without sabotage, the Scheme had been doomed to failure. Humanity had not come so far through savagery. No, its achievements were the fruit of generations upon generations of intelligence.
Dakra winced and pursed his lips as he descended the ladder, feeling faint and dizzy as he dismounted. His side was festering and reeked harshly. His immune system was wholly unprepared for this pathogen, and it didn β t help that Chukwu β s teeth had sunk in so deep. It was unclear when exactly Chukwu β s nervous system had been infested, when precisely he began his coordination of events that would lead humanity β s forces to complete collapse, but it had been nothing short of cunning.
The Proto Scheme had been pathetic in their effectiveness, their modernization training undermined by Chukwu β s endless β modifications β based on falsified battle reports. They had been carefully sculpted to be pathetically useless in directing modern warfare. Alexander, Caesar, Hannibalβ¦ all swept to the side uselessly and expending precious fighters and equipment along with them.
*How wrong we had been. We had thought them savages, our intellect superior. But in their savagery, in their aggression their intellect shines brightly. *
Dakra put a hand in his pocket and clutched the encryption discs tightly as he descended another ladder. In spite of humanity β s most advanced flagship on fire, useless and strewn in bits over some 300 kilometers, a smile cracked Dakra β s lips in defiance.
It was a longshot, a β Hail Mary β as the Classic Archives might had referred to it. The encryption discs were old technology, dating back to when the pioneers had arrived on Marsa Versa. These dusty facilities had been long forgotten to most, existing merely as some odd shapes in the hills for the few residents of Marsa Versa. But from reading old planet schematics, Dakra was certain the terminal before him was a critical juncture in maintaining the jump point to the other sectors.
Perhaps the old Earth and the rest of the nearby Origin System would be found and snuffed out. *Unavoidable. Earth and our ancient history will probably be destroyed. But not the other sectors β no, they CAN NOT have those. * They were loosely populated, but very fertile areas. And at least humanity might have a chance to mount a proper defense. The jump point was a marvel in technological advancement β the enemy would be completely unable to restabilize the jump without Marsa Versa, maybe even for a few hundred years. And who knows what intellectual marvels humanity could engineer by then?
Or so, that was the hope. Dakra β s whole torso ached painfully now, 2 full hours after decapitating General Chukwu. He felt an alarming numbness creeping into his neck and a slight haze settling over his vision.
Dacra clenched his fists and steeled his eyes. He shoved the encryption keys into the terminal.
β Hail Mary. β
| <s>[INST] Facing extinction in a war with a brutal alien race , a mankind that has forgotten how to go to war reaches into the past and clones its greatest , but most evil Warmasters . Will our monsters save us ? [/INST] The Spear careening into the mountain range unleashed a deafening groan, its neocarbon frame splitting and fraying as it was pierced by the jagged peaks. Bright green and blue blurs could be seen showering upon it as it fell, cracking the hardened plating. If not for the horrifying implications for humanity, it was truly a spectacle.
This was the surface of Marsa Versa, one of the first worlds that the old humans had entered after leaving the Origin System. Never having been favorable for terraforming ( that had of course been the warmer neighbor, Erosa Versa ), its only real purpose was a solid rock in a convenient place in which to build a jump point connecting other systems.
Dakra β s gaze rolled over the scene, evaluating and calculating. The Spear β s β Glorious Charge β had been nothing more than a suicide run.
*Fitting. The Proto favored ancient Jap tactics, confusing honorable death with savagery. *
Dakra spat in disgust. He was there when the Defense Council cowered in fear at Chukwu β s report, had seen the trembling hands vote to activate the Proto Scheme. In retrospect, it sounded silly: clone the dead from millennia ago, use accelerated learning to modernize them, and then wait with hands on hips for them to find a solution. *How gullible they had been. How foolish and irresponsible. *
Clutching the wound at his side, Dakra hunched over and retreated into the cave. The Spear would leave no survivors, the Proto β s bastardized plan would have seen to that. Even without sabotage, the Scheme had been doomed to failure. Humanity had not come so far through savagery. No, its achievements were the fruit of generations upon generations of intelligence.
Dakra winced and pursed his lips as he descended the ladder, feeling faint and dizzy as he dismounted. His side was festering and reeked harshly. His immune system was wholly unprepared for this pathogen, and it didn β t help that Chukwu β s teeth had sunk in so deep. It was unclear when exactly Chukwu β s nervous system had been infested, when precisely he began his coordination of events that would lead humanity β s forces to complete collapse, but it had been nothing short of cunning.
The Proto Scheme had been pathetic in their effectiveness, their modernization training undermined by Chukwu β s endless β modifications β based on falsified battle reports. They had been carefully sculpted to be pathetically useless in directing modern warfare. Alexander, Caesar, Hannibalβ¦ all swept to the side uselessly and expending precious fighters and equipment along with them.
*How wrong we had been. We had thought them savages, our intellect superior. But in their savagery, in their aggression their intellect shines brightly. *
Dakra put a hand in his pocket and clutched the encryption discs tightly as he descended another ladder. In spite of humanity β s most advanced flagship on fire, useless and strewn in bits over some 300 kilometers, a smile cracked Dakra β s lips in defiance.
It was a longshot, a β Hail Mary β as the Classic Archives might had referred to it. The encryption discs were old technology, dating back to when the pioneers had arrived on Marsa Versa. These dusty facilities had been long forgotten to most, existing merely as some odd shapes in the hills for the few residents of Marsa Versa. But from reading old planet schematics, Dakra was certain the terminal before him was a critical juncture in maintaining the jump point to the other sectors.
Perhaps the old Earth and the rest of the nearby Origin System would be found and snuffed out. *Unavoidable. Earth and our ancient history will probably be destroyed. But not the other sectors β no, they CAN NOT have those. * They were loosely populated, but very fertile areas. And at least humanity might have a chance to mount a proper defense. The jump point was a marvel in technological advancement β the enemy would be completely unable to restabilize the jump without Marsa Versa, maybe even for a few hundred years. And who knows what intellectual marvels humanity could engineer by then?
Or so, that was the hope. Dakra β s whole torso ached painfully now, 2 full hours after decapitating General Chukwu. He felt an alarming numbness creeping into his neck and a slight haze settling over his vision.
Dacra clenched his fists and steeled his eyes. He shoved the encryption keys into the terminal.
β Hail Mary. β
</s> |
[ WP ] The sun has risen for the last time .
| It's a strange thought, up until a few months ago, I had hoped I'd live forever. The inevitable destruction of our earth, of the entire universe had scared me. `` Maybe there's more to it, more than this universe.'' I'd console myself. I knew perfectly well this was silly of course. I'd be long dead before our planet changed in any significant way. But I was wrong; the universe decided differently.
I do n't even know what the damned thing is called. A `` V'' and then some number. That's not what people are calling it though; they are calling it `` Thanatos''. You have got to give it to us humans, we have a strange sense of humor. Or maybe it was a `` W''? If there were still internet, I'd look it up.
My days of fearing death are over. Once it was certain that Thanatos was on a collision course with our sun, I had to get over it. Those who did n't are either dead or hiding. Which should be pitied more, I'm not sure. Of course, there is not much I'll be missing out on. No living relatives - none that I care about anyway - and Jamie left me years ago.
Thanatos will come in from a nice angle; we'll have a side view of the whole event. First, the sun will stretch out as he approaches, then Thanatos will start consuming. Scientists do n't seem to agree on what happens next, some say it will be quick and painless, others say it will be violent and the radiation will cook us to death. I do n't care either way, everyone agrees it will be beautiful.
It's seven in the evening, the sun will start to set in about an hour. I've got my booze, gun and eclipse glasses ready on my porch.
I can hardly wait.
| <s>[INST] The sun has risen for the last time . [/INST] It's a strange thought, up until a few months ago, I had hoped I'd live forever. The inevitable destruction of our earth, of the entire universe had scared me. `` Maybe there's more to it, more than this universe.'' I'd console myself. I knew perfectly well this was silly of course. I'd be long dead before our planet changed in any significant way. But I was wrong; the universe decided differently.
I do n't even know what the damned thing is called. A `` V'' and then some number. That's not what people are calling it though; they are calling it `` Thanatos''. You have got to give it to us humans, we have a strange sense of humor. Or maybe it was a `` W''? If there were still internet, I'd look it up.
My days of fearing death are over. Once it was certain that Thanatos was on a collision course with our sun, I had to get over it. Those who did n't are either dead or hiding. Which should be pitied more, I'm not sure. Of course, there is not much I'll be missing out on. No living relatives - none that I care about anyway - and Jamie left me years ago.
Thanatos will come in from a nice angle; we'll have a side view of the whole event. First, the sun will stretch out as he approaches, then Thanatos will start consuming. Scientists do n't seem to agree on what happens next, some say it will be quick and painless, others say it will be violent and the radiation will cook us to death. I do n't care either way, everyone agrees it will be beautiful.
It's seven in the evening, the sun will start to set in about an hour. I've got my booze, gun and eclipse glasses ready on my porch.
I can hardly wait.
</s> |
[ WP ] A young man realises that every time he makes eye contact with his reflections , they enter his world . He hunts down and kills his reflections on a regular basis .
| Cursing under his breath, the man sprinted down the street after his reflection. How could he have been so careless? He had never let any escape, none after the first. He had killed out of fear then, the first time; the man could still remember the sick feeling afterwards, weeping beside his own corpse, bile rising bitter in his mouth. As time went on he had became addicted to that sickness, the thrill of ending life. The man had summoned this one a few hours ago, after a particularly bitter spat with his fiancΓ©; he had been particularly cruel in his tortures, relishing the opportunity to outlet his rage on the helpless reflection. Yet he had tied the knots restraining his doppelganger poorly, and now the reflection was running down the empty street twenty meters in front of him.
Despite this series of setbacks, the man was not overly worried. His reflection was weak from the torture and had a noticeable limp; it would tire before long. His fingers tightened around the bloody hammer he gripped in his right hand. Suddenly the reflection turned and ran into a large department store, prying apart the automatic doors before they had time to open themselves. The man followed his reflection and stood inside the entrance, relieved: there was almost no one in the store this time of night, save a couple of workers stocking shelves or gossiping by the registers. He would be able to finish the job here in private, the body would disappear after a few minutes just like the rest, and then he could return to life as usual.
The reflection sprinted down isle after isle, madly fleeing its pursuer. It entered a small hallway and ran into a small room, slamming the door shut behind it. His skin tingling with anticipation, the man prepared to kick the door down and go in for the kill. He stopped short, however, when he saw the sign nailed to the door: β Changing Room β. A current of fear arced down his spine, his conscious mind struggling to come to the conclusion that his gut had reached instantly. Could a reflection summon a reflection?
The door burst open and they came at him at once, four of them, four of him. Two of them tackled him to the ground and pinned down his arms, one restrained his legs. The fourth stood over him, raining down vicious kicks on his face, his throat, his groin. For what seemed like an eternity they beat him; eventually he managed to open his mouth, spitting out a couple of teeth before speaking: β Please! Let me live. Let me live. I β m not worth the effort, Iβ¦ I β ll give you everything. You can take it all: The money, the job, the car, the woman. I never liked any of them anyway. Just let meβ¦ just let me live. β
The fourth reflection, the one which he had summoned himself, looked down on him then with its broken faceβthe face he had broken and bloodied just hours beforeβand laughed. β You β ll live. What kind of a man would murder his own reflection? But I can β t leave you like this. β A cruel smile appeared on the reflection β s lips as it grabbed the man β s hammer from the floor. The reflection walked to the changing room mirror and smashed its surface with the hammer until it was nothing but a thousand shards of silvered glass. Picking up a particularly long and sharp-looking shard, the reflection walked over to the man and moved the shard slowly towards his faceβ¦
An hour later a frantic store worker ran up to her manager, trying to catch her breath before speaking. β A manβ¦ in the changing roomβ¦ blood everywhereβ¦ β The manager ran with her to the room, where the man was sitting. Blood ran down his cheeks from empty sockets, and bits of blood and eyeball covered his face. He was babbling incoherently about mirrors and reflections. The manager averted his gaze quickly and stepped back, trying to keep from vomiting. β Call an ambulance, β he told the terrified girl standing beside him. Then he glanced back. β Make sure they put him in the psychiatric ward. I β ve never heard of a guy gauging out his eyes like this before. Must β ve been afraid of his own reflection. β
| <s>[INST] A young man realises that every time he makes eye contact with his reflections , they enter his world . He hunts down and kills his reflections on a regular basis . [/INST] Cursing under his breath, the man sprinted down the street after his reflection. How could he have been so careless? He had never let any escape, none after the first. He had killed out of fear then, the first time; the man could still remember the sick feeling afterwards, weeping beside his own corpse, bile rising bitter in his mouth. As time went on he had became addicted to that sickness, the thrill of ending life. The man had summoned this one a few hours ago, after a particularly bitter spat with his fiancΓ©; he had been particularly cruel in his tortures, relishing the opportunity to outlet his rage on the helpless reflection. Yet he had tied the knots restraining his doppelganger poorly, and now the reflection was running down the empty street twenty meters in front of him.
Despite this series of setbacks, the man was not overly worried. His reflection was weak from the torture and had a noticeable limp; it would tire before long. His fingers tightened around the bloody hammer he gripped in his right hand. Suddenly the reflection turned and ran into a large department store, prying apart the automatic doors before they had time to open themselves. The man followed his reflection and stood inside the entrance, relieved: there was almost no one in the store this time of night, save a couple of workers stocking shelves or gossiping by the registers. He would be able to finish the job here in private, the body would disappear after a few minutes just like the rest, and then he could return to life as usual.
The reflection sprinted down isle after isle, madly fleeing its pursuer. It entered a small hallway and ran into a small room, slamming the door shut behind it. His skin tingling with anticipation, the man prepared to kick the door down and go in for the kill. He stopped short, however, when he saw the sign nailed to the door: β Changing Room β. A current of fear arced down his spine, his conscious mind struggling to come to the conclusion that his gut had reached instantly. Could a reflection summon a reflection?
The door burst open and they came at him at once, four of them, four of him. Two of them tackled him to the ground and pinned down his arms, one restrained his legs. The fourth stood over him, raining down vicious kicks on his face, his throat, his groin. For what seemed like an eternity they beat him; eventually he managed to open his mouth, spitting out a couple of teeth before speaking: β Please! Let me live. Let me live. I β m not worth the effort, Iβ¦ I β ll give you everything. You can take it all: The money, the job, the car, the woman. I never liked any of them anyway. Just let meβ¦ just let me live. β
The fourth reflection, the one which he had summoned himself, looked down on him then with its broken faceβthe face he had broken and bloodied just hours beforeβand laughed. β You β ll live. What kind of a man would murder his own reflection? But I can β t leave you like this. β A cruel smile appeared on the reflection β s lips as it grabbed the man β s hammer from the floor. The reflection walked to the changing room mirror and smashed its surface with the hammer until it was nothing but a thousand shards of silvered glass. Picking up a particularly long and sharp-looking shard, the reflection walked over to the man and moved the shard slowly towards his faceβ¦
An hour later a frantic store worker ran up to her manager, trying to catch her breath before speaking. β A manβ¦ in the changing roomβ¦ blood everywhereβ¦ β The manager ran with her to the room, where the man was sitting. Blood ran down his cheeks from empty sockets, and bits of blood and eyeball covered his face. He was babbling incoherently about mirrors and reflections. The manager averted his gaze quickly and stepped back, trying to keep from vomiting. β Call an ambulance, β he told the terrified girl standing beside him. Then he glanced back. β Make sure they put him in the psychiatric ward. I β ve never heard of a guy gauging out his eyes like this before. Must β ve been afraid of his own reflection. β
</s> |
[ WP ] You have died , and are now a ghost .
| The air hurt. Not just because I couldn β t inhale it, but because it reminded me of what I truly was lingering on the outside of humanity β s vision. It was cold, pulling at me and forcing me to stay in this realm. I wasn β t allowed to move even though my body had been disposed of in a body bag long ago. As hard as I tried, my feet couldn β t go past the invisible circle that had been drawn around my area of death.
I was only seventeen, and the way I was put out of living continuously sticks with me just about every hour. When the time of my death is met on any given day, the pain is increased. When the actual day and time of my murder surfaces, it β s an unmentionable hell. My girlfriend and I went were walking home after chatting over dessert at a cafΓ© near the outside of town. We were laughing as we made our way towards Fetcelli β s, the abandoned restaurant a few blocks across the street. That β s when he showed up. Samantha β s ex, with a cold look in his faded brown eyes.
He brandished a switchblade and stabbed me in my left arm as I got in front of her. She screamed, and I gritted my teeth as I fell to my knees, blood seeping around my hand that clutched my bicep. Sammy shrieked and tried to run, but Mike grabbed her by her long blond hair and hit her, hard. She slumped against the side of the building. Then he came over to me, reached under and punched me in the stomach twice with as fist as hard as rock. The blood was still coming, and now my vision was spotted, coming in and out of blackness. I felt like I was going to throw up.
I looked over to my left and saw Sam. I wanted to reach out and grab her arm to make sure she was okay, but Mike stood over me. He grabbed a fist full of my hair, and yanked my neck back. I let out a yell. His hand then moved down to my black, leather jacket, and he held tight onto the collar as he broke down the door of the boarded up eatery. He dragged me inside, and left the door open. He laid me on my back, and sat on top of me, the blade finding its way deep into my chest.
The air flooded through my throat all at once, and as the painful sensation of my skin being split open repeatedly and my ribs being crushed overpowered me. I tried to scream but he went for my throat next. First strangling, then pressing down with one hand on my windpipe as he marked an β X β straight through my face. The blood was blinding and I could taste it. I tried to kick him off but I wasn β t strong enough.
Straining through dying lips, I asked, β Why are you doing this? β He replied with brooding hatred. β Because you took her from me. β Then he cut open my throat. I was out of air, yet my eyes still worked for a few moments. Laying still on the floor with my vision blacking, I saw him go out the door and yank his arm to the left.
Sam wasn β t unconscious anymore and she was crying, screaming. β Stop it! Let me go! Where β s Tony? Is that blood on your shirt? Oh Mike, no! β
I heard her try to fight him off, but she couldn β t break his grasp. After a moment, it was quiet. I don β t know if he killed her right outside or if he just knocked her out again and dragged her somewhere else to deal with her body as he pleased. I remember my vision was clearer once my eyes closed, like I blinked for a second, but I knew what really happened. I just know that wherever Sam is, she realizes this too, and that she knows truly why I can not come to see her.
I watched as an old, beat up car with a tan paint job passed in front of a broken window of the restaurant. Here I was stuck inside, never allowed to go anywhere, but that car, which may soon never be able roll on its wheels again, can speed outside the city limits to see what lies beyond this place. I suppose that β s how life is: it β s lived until it is taken.
| <s>[INST] You have died , and are now a ghost . [/INST] The air hurt. Not just because I couldn β t inhale it, but because it reminded me of what I truly was lingering on the outside of humanity β s vision. It was cold, pulling at me and forcing me to stay in this realm. I wasn β t allowed to move even though my body had been disposed of in a body bag long ago. As hard as I tried, my feet couldn β t go past the invisible circle that had been drawn around my area of death.
I was only seventeen, and the way I was put out of living continuously sticks with me just about every hour. When the time of my death is met on any given day, the pain is increased. When the actual day and time of my murder surfaces, it β s an unmentionable hell. My girlfriend and I went were walking home after chatting over dessert at a cafΓ© near the outside of town. We were laughing as we made our way towards Fetcelli β s, the abandoned restaurant a few blocks across the street. That β s when he showed up. Samantha β s ex, with a cold look in his faded brown eyes.
He brandished a switchblade and stabbed me in my left arm as I got in front of her. She screamed, and I gritted my teeth as I fell to my knees, blood seeping around my hand that clutched my bicep. Sammy shrieked and tried to run, but Mike grabbed her by her long blond hair and hit her, hard. She slumped against the side of the building. Then he came over to me, reached under and punched me in the stomach twice with as fist as hard as rock. The blood was still coming, and now my vision was spotted, coming in and out of blackness. I felt like I was going to throw up.
I looked over to my left and saw Sam. I wanted to reach out and grab her arm to make sure she was okay, but Mike stood over me. He grabbed a fist full of my hair, and yanked my neck back. I let out a yell. His hand then moved down to my black, leather jacket, and he held tight onto the collar as he broke down the door of the boarded up eatery. He dragged me inside, and left the door open. He laid me on my back, and sat on top of me, the blade finding its way deep into my chest.
The air flooded through my throat all at once, and as the painful sensation of my skin being split open repeatedly and my ribs being crushed overpowered me. I tried to scream but he went for my throat next. First strangling, then pressing down with one hand on my windpipe as he marked an β X β straight through my face. The blood was blinding and I could taste it. I tried to kick him off but I wasn β t strong enough.
Straining through dying lips, I asked, β Why are you doing this? β He replied with brooding hatred. β Because you took her from me. β Then he cut open my throat. I was out of air, yet my eyes still worked for a few moments. Laying still on the floor with my vision blacking, I saw him go out the door and yank his arm to the left.
Sam wasn β t unconscious anymore and she was crying, screaming. β Stop it! Let me go! Where β s Tony? Is that blood on your shirt? Oh Mike, no! β
I heard her try to fight him off, but she couldn β t break his grasp. After a moment, it was quiet. I don β t know if he killed her right outside or if he just knocked her out again and dragged her somewhere else to deal with her body as he pleased. I remember my vision was clearer once my eyes closed, like I blinked for a second, but I knew what really happened. I just know that wherever Sam is, she realizes this too, and that she knows truly why I can not come to see her.
I watched as an old, beat up car with a tan paint job passed in front of a broken window of the restaurant. Here I was stuck inside, never allowed to go anywhere, but that car, which may soon never be able roll on its wheels again, can speed outside the city limits to see what lies beyond this place. I suppose that β s how life is: it β s lived until it is taken.
</s> |
[ WP ] Satan has a special place in hell for the greatest sinners . To him , the greatest sinners are those who commit acts of petty inconvenience , such as placing the toilet roll the other way round , or playing music through headphones loudly . Today , the greatest sinner of all time is sent Satan 's way .
| Trey sat before a grizzled old demon, quite literally twiddling his thumbs in an effort to stave off his boredom. The room he was in happened to be a boring shade of red, the chair he sat upon was only just slightly uncomfortable, and a rather unpleasant odor drifted about the room.
*This must be what Hell is like*, the man thought. He saw no mass beheadings, pitchforks, or pits of boiling lava and tormented souls. Only discomfort, boredom, and a smell that was reminiscent of a dentist's waiting room.
`` Ah, here it is,'' the demon said. An older-looking thing, she had green skin and looked vaguely like a goblin. `` Let me just see here...''
`` To be honest, I'm not really sure why I'm here,'' Trey suddenly said, `` I felt like I had a pretty good life. I was n't really mean to people, so-''
`` Great blue *flames of hell*,'' the demon muttered, going wide-eyed and slack-jawed as she stared at the computer before her. It, too, was an archaic piece of technology, the monitor having a large appendage on its rear, and the drives within whirring noisily. `` You must be one of the worst sinners of all time. Just *how* did you do this, human?'' She shook her head, reaching to pick up a desk phone, which she tapped a few numbers on before holding it to her ear. `` No, not *human*. *Lord*.''
`` Lord? What?'' Trey asked, `` Are you sure there was n't some sort of mix-up? I really do n't recall ever-''
The demon put a finger to her lips, uttering a harsh'*shhhhh*'. She swiveled her chair away from him, and whispered into the phone's mouthpiece in an almost conspiratorial way. Not long after that did the door burst open, as two burly demons entered the room. Trey was unceremoniously dragged away, after that, despite his claims of innocence.
A short while later, Trey abruptly landed before a massive throne, ringed by nearly-nude seductresses, flames, and obsidian. Upon the throne sat a grand and proud-looking male specimen, with two large horns upon his ashen-skinned forehead.
`` Damn, guys, do n't just throw him to the ground,'' the demon shouted, standing up from the throne. He made his way down the steps, hauled Trey to his feet, and dusted the man off. `` You're among nobility, here. From what I was told, this guy's a bona-fide sociopath.''
`` Wh-What? No, now I'm really confused,'' Trey said, taking a step back in some attempt to put distance between himself and the overbearing demon. `` I stole once, sure, but that was when I was a kid. I seriously did n't ever do anything bad- not on *purpose*...''
`` That's just it, Trey. Not on **purpose**,'' the demon said. He offered his hand forward. `` I'm Satan. We're gon na get to know each other pretty well in the coming eternity.''
Trey's skin went pale. What could he have done, to deserve this fate? To shake hands with the devil, of all beings. Resigning himself, he slowly reached forward and took Satan's hand. `` S-Sure...''
`` So, man, you got ta tell me what your secret was,'' Satan said. He stepped around to Trey's side, to put an arm over the man's shoulders in an oddly brotherly way. `` Not many guys like you in *history*, let alone the past thousand years.''
`` I do n't even know why I'm here,'' Trey admitted. Still, he was clueless. He lived his life in a pure way, did well in school, got a well-paying job, a beautiful wife whom he cherished...
`` They did n't tell you?'' Satan asked. `` The fuck do I employ'em for... Anyway, it was about your wife. You treated her like *garbage*, man.''
`` What? No, I did not,'' Trey said. His face went pale once more. `` I treated her like a goddess. We were married for over sixty years. She-''
`` You hid all sorts of stuff from her, though,'' said Satan, shrugging with one arm. `` Teabags, and cutlery... you left the toilet seat up, and put shit on the floor. Really, man, you're almost as evil as I am. And I'm *Satan*!''
It was around that time that it finally dawned upon Trey. `` Oh, Lord...'' he cursed under his breath.
`` My wife was blind.''
-- -
I like writing about demons and stuff I guess. [ Here's my sub if you want more ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Probroscis/ ).
| <s>[INST] Satan has a special place in hell for the greatest sinners . To him , the greatest sinners are those who commit acts of petty inconvenience , such as placing the toilet roll the other way round , or playing music through headphones loudly . Today , the greatest sinner of all time is sent Satan 's way . [/INST] Trey sat before a grizzled old demon, quite literally twiddling his thumbs in an effort to stave off his boredom. The room he was in happened to be a boring shade of red, the chair he sat upon was only just slightly uncomfortable, and a rather unpleasant odor drifted about the room.
*This must be what Hell is like*, the man thought. He saw no mass beheadings, pitchforks, or pits of boiling lava and tormented souls. Only discomfort, boredom, and a smell that was reminiscent of a dentist's waiting room.
`` Ah, here it is,'' the demon said. An older-looking thing, she had green skin and looked vaguely like a goblin. `` Let me just see here...''
`` To be honest, I'm not really sure why I'm here,'' Trey suddenly said, `` I felt like I had a pretty good life. I was n't really mean to people, so-''
`` Great blue *flames of hell*,'' the demon muttered, going wide-eyed and slack-jawed as she stared at the computer before her. It, too, was an archaic piece of technology, the monitor having a large appendage on its rear, and the drives within whirring noisily. `` You must be one of the worst sinners of all time. Just *how* did you do this, human?'' She shook her head, reaching to pick up a desk phone, which she tapped a few numbers on before holding it to her ear. `` No, not *human*. *Lord*.''
`` Lord? What?'' Trey asked, `` Are you sure there was n't some sort of mix-up? I really do n't recall ever-''
The demon put a finger to her lips, uttering a harsh'*shhhhh*'. She swiveled her chair away from him, and whispered into the phone's mouthpiece in an almost conspiratorial way. Not long after that did the door burst open, as two burly demons entered the room. Trey was unceremoniously dragged away, after that, despite his claims of innocence.
A short while later, Trey abruptly landed before a massive throne, ringed by nearly-nude seductresses, flames, and obsidian. Upon the throne sat a grand and proud-looking male specimen, with two large horns upon his ashen-skinned forehead.
`` Damn, guys, do n't just throw him to the ground,'' the demon shouted, standing up from the throne. He made his way down the steps, hauled Trey to his feet, and dusted the man off. `` You're among nobility, here. From what I was told, this guy's a bona-fide sociopath.''
`` Wh-What? No, now I'm really confused,'' Trey said, taking a step back in some attempt to put distance between himself and the overbearing demon. `` I stole once, sure, but that was when I was a kid. I seriously did n't ever do anything bad- not on *purpose*...''
`` That's just it, Trey. Not on **purpose**,'' the demon said. He offered his hand forward. `` I'm Satan. We're gon na get to know each other pretty well in the coming eternity.''
Trey's skin went pale. What could he have done, to deserve this fate? To shake hands with the devil, of all beings. Resigning himself, he slowly reached forward and took Satan's hand. `` S-Sure...''
`` So, man, you got ta tell me what your secret was,'' Satan said. He stepped around to Trey's side, to put an arm over the man's shoulders in an oddly brotherly way. `` Not many guys like you in *history*, let alone the past thousand years.''
`` I do n't even know why I'm here,'' Trey admitted. Still, he was clueless. He lived his life in a pure way, did well in school, got a well-paying job, a beautiful wife whom he cherished...
`` They did n't tell you?'' Satan asked. `` The fuck do I employ'em for... Anyway, it was about your wife. You treated her like *garbage*, man.''
`` What? No, I did not,'' Trey said. His face went pale once more. `` I treated her like a goddess. We were married for over sixty years. She-''
`` You hid all sorts of stuff from her, though,'' said Satan, shrugging with one arm. `` Teabags, and cutlery... you left the toilet seat up, and put shit on the floor. Really, man, you're almost as evil as I am. And I'm *Satan*!''
It was around that time that it finally dawned upon Trey. `` Oh, Lord...'' he cursed under his breath.
`` My wife was blind.''
-- -
I like writing about demons and stuff I guess. [ Here's my sub if you want more ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Probroscis/ ).
</s> |