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[ { "from": "human", "value": "You wake up for the 4,958th time to an awfull air raid siren but this time, you're happy. It's your last day trapped in a timeloop. A month ago you found the way out and decided to wait and plan your exit. Today, you leave the timeloop; but, for the next 12 hours, you'll be improving your life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I died for the last time last night.\n\nWhich is to say that I've died 4,957 times. At least 2,000 of those deaths have been from nuclear eruption, at least 1,000 by gunshot, a few hundred by cars, a few hundred by electrocution, more deaths than i'd like to admit by just goofing off to 'see what happens', and one time even by sharks >!(Yes, actually I never knew there were sharks off the coast of my hometown -- I thought I'd die from drowning, but, nope, sharks...)!<.\n\nTime-loops. Goddamn unexplainable time-loops. Gotta love em cause you know you'll 'solve' it eventually, but hate em cause they're really just shitty. It's like playing a game on the hardest difficulty, only, unlike games, you have no special skills or abilities. If I could shoot fireballs out of my hands I wouldn't need 4,957 attempts. Really, you try saving your country as just a normal ass person.\n\nBut I digress. I've figured it out. It had to happen eventually. Here's how it goes down:\n\n**The Sirens**\n\nI wake to blaring sirens -- not the normal police or ambulance kind, but the unexpected I-didn't-know-the-government-placed-these-speakers-all-over-the-city kind. And these are *loud*. And there are quite a few outside my apartment. When I wake up my heart is racing in my chest. It always takes a moment to recollect myself. Like waking from a dream, the previous loops come back to me, and gradually my heartbeat slows, and a grin settles on my face.\n\n**Chaos**\n\nListen. Here's how to survive an apocalypse. Everyone's going to have the same idea of escape, so whatever your first thought is -- don't do that. Really, your 1,037th thought is when you really start to get on the right track. >!My 1036th death was shark death. !< Everyone gets in their cars. They take the nearest highway inland, away from the coast. Those highways are flooded cesspools of violence and accidents. And they get burned down anyway eventually -- one does not simply run away from a nuclear bomb.\n\n**The Call**\n\nWhat I need to do is make a phone call. But the person I need to call is going to think I'm crazy. So I need to getthe right person to do it. But the person I need to make the phone-call is going to panic and want to get the hell away from the city and also think i'm an insane lunatic, so i'll need some leverage. By leverage I mean a gun and some facts I drew up on previous loops.\n\n**The Mayor's House**\n\nFirst, I stop by the park on 47th street and dig a hole three feet into the ground behind the tree with the two limbs that look like some teenager making the peace sign. I know, oddly specific. I found this out on accident on one of the earlier loops when I saw someone dig this same hole and retrieve the handgun in the box. The person comes at 10:15am, and it's 10:10am. So I hurry the hell up then I'm back on the road.\n\nThere's some traffic on the way to the Mayor since he lives in downtown, but I know where the crazies are, and I know when the accidents happen, so I take some side streets and circumvent the traffic and I'm there at 10:38am, just in time to catch the mayor packing his family into the car.\n\n\"Hey George,\"I say, smiling to the mayor. \"Hey Louie and Victor,\"I say to his kids. \"As lovely as always, Mrs. Robinson,\"I say to his wife. Confused looks. Gets me every time. Fun as hell. Until I pull up the gun. \"I need you to come with me back inside, George.\"\n\nI hate to do it, but I have to tie the kids and wife up inside because on the 3,777th loop, when I just left them alone, the wife managed a knife and (to her credit) cut me up bad. And when I shot her on the 3,779th the mayor wouldn't cooperate. >!(my bad.)!<\n\n**The Phone Call**\n\nNo one believes you at first when you tell them you're on a time-loop. But I sit the mayor down and tell him the names of his deceased parents, the town where he grew up, the name of the woman he's cheating on his wife with -- all information I got on previous loops. He might just think I'm an insane stalker, but by the end of my spiel he's at least willing to work with me.\n\nHe calls the Coast Guard and they call the air-force, and I feed them details the whole time. On loops before this, I'd sat on the shore and tracked every plane, plotting their coordinates. It took hundreds of deaths, but I was able to collect a kind of map of the air-raid, complete with which plane carried the nuclear bomb and which were just decoys to throw anti-air off.\n\nAfter feeding a few coordinates and time-stamps, and cross-checking my information, the military, though reluctant, is willing to listen to me.\n\nI tell them everything I know. When they ask me how I got the information, I tell them I'm a time traveler, I'm a double-agent, that I'm clairvoyant -- they can believe whatever the hell they want to, because they're sure as hell going to have a hard time believing the truth, and I just want to live.\n\nThis was the missing piece. How to get someone to listen to you. On previous loops I've tried to explain everything, and begged and pleaded, but somehow it always came across as sabotage, coercion, feeding misinformation. But from try after try I came up with a theory, or maybe more of a mindset: I'm tired of giving a fuck. I tell them they can use the information or not, and then I hang up the phone. Let them figure it out.\n\n**Me and the Mayor**\n\nThis part is always weird.\n\n\"If it's alright with you, I'm just gonno go now, George.\"\n\nI still have the gun so it's not like he has a choice. I suppose he could call the cops, but I didn't hurt him. Plus, I *know* things about him. So he just watches me with his jaw dropped and I walk the hell out of there.\n\n**The End**\n\nGun shots and planes and more chaos. Now I just have to wait til 12:13pm, when the bomb usually drops. If it doesn't hooray!\n\nI stop by the supermarket on the way home. It's already broken into. Trashed. People still inside, fighting over food and resources. But at times like this, no one grabs the beer. So, I do. Then I go home.\n\nI sit at my desk and drink. And keep drinking. And drink so more. If I die and have to try again, at least I won't feel my death.\n\nAt 12:10pm my head is spinning and I'm anxious. I've yakked at least seven times.\n\nSo I gulp down a whole bottle of Hennesy, and wait out the last minute watching the clock.\n\nBefore the world spins and I black out, I see it: 12:14pm, then 12:15.\n\nBut then I wake up and it's sirens again.\n\n...\n\nAt first I'm confused. Everything should have worked perfectly.\n\nThen a wave of relief washes over me, and I think:\n\nOh god, *Fucking Alcohol Poisoning.*\n\n\\---------------------\n\nEdit: Spacing + wow my first reddit gold! Thanks a lot :-) \n\nIf you've made it this far, thanks for reading! " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your species turns to stone when they sleep. This is to protect you from danger, and keep you safe during your 100-1000 year hibernation cycle. Today you woke up in a museum. Lots of people are looking at you since you’re the newest except." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And here we have our newest exhibit, a statue found in the depths of the Amazon jungle!\"The loud voice of an overly enthusiastic human was the first thing to greet me as I awoke from my 900 year slumber. Thankfully, the stiffness in my joints prevented me from moving, and I tensed up as around twenty excited younglings surrounded the transparent box I was currently trapped in. \n\nBiting back a curse, I mentally berated myself for allowing the Great Slumber to overtake me when foraging for food. My three digits were still clasped around the hilt of the Egyptian kopesh Rameses lent to me before I left for the East. As the younglings, all dressed in unfamiliar garb crowded around my box, I slowly moved my gaze upwards to observe my surroundings. The young ones were not sharp enough to detect the subtle movement of two my four eyes, and the only other older human was currently wrestling one of the younglings away from what seemed to be a large assortment of bones on a table.\n\nThe box I was in seemed to have been made specifically for me, as it accomodated my somewhat larger stature. I smiled internally as I recalled Alexander's insistence on making armour that fit me, ignoring my assurance that my hide was more than sufficient to protect me from the flimsy arrows of the Persians. In fact, it was that same armour which I wore before entering the Great Slumber, but I could not feel any of it, save for my innerwear, the only material able to turn to stone as I did. \n\nAs the younglings slowly moved away from my box, I relaxed somewhat and cast my gaze further. Surrounding me were boxes similar to mine, all containing different items such as hunting equipment - I recognized a few of my bows and daggers - and large stone slabs with inscriptions I could not make out from that distance. All these boxes appeared to be in a room of sorts, with plenty of humans dressed in strange garb of various colours entering and exiting as they pleased through a large entryway.\n\nStaring past the entryway, I noticed the bones of a large dragonlike creature, much larger than the ones I encountered while in the East. Its head was almost half my height, to say nothing of the massive hulking body that accompanied it. Over to the left was the only object not encased in a transparent box - a man sitting astride a horse, an elegant sword held up high in one hand while holding the reins of his horse in another. \n\nAs I marvelled at the strangeness of my surroundings, I noticed that there were less humans in the room than before, with more exiting than entering. My chance to escape was at hand.\n\nAs the last of the younglings was half-dragged, half-led out of the room by a clearly exhausted older human, the room was finally empty. Several muffled sounds indicated their departure from the building, and I saw a human male dressed in blue ushering others out of the place.\n\nSlowly working out the stiffness in my limbs, I heard a loud thud as the male closed two large doors in the distance. I reached out with one of my upper limbs to test the strength of the box. Drawing out my kopesh, I prepared to strike at my transparent prison-\n\n\"Howdy there,\"a shrill voice cried out. I froze in shock, looking around for the source of the sound.\n\n\"Down here, pal,\"the voice continued. I stared downwards as the figure of a tiny adult human came into view, dressed in strange brown clothing and a large brown hat on his head. \"You haven't moved in weeks, I was beginning to think you wasn't alive or something!\"\n\n\"Wha-\"I began to say, but the small human turned away and shouted \"Larry!\"\n\nThe human dressed in blue from earlier rushed into the room, a short metal object glowing with light from one end in hand. \"Oh, great! You're awake, we were beginning to think the tablet was faulty or something,\"he said as he began pulling out a bunch of small metallic objects from his waist. Selecting one, he inserted it into the side of one of the panels of my box. With a slight click, the entire front panel of my box swung open, and I was free. \n\nAs I beheld this strange human who did not seem at all shocked to see me, all I could manage to utter were sounds of shock and confusion.\n\nThe other human smiled as he held out his hand. \"My name's Larry Daley,\"he said as in the distance, a roar could be heard. My eyes widened in shock as I realised the bones of the dragon-creature were nowhere to be found.\n\n\"Welcome to the American Museum of Natural History.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a SpaceX astronaut on Mars. The earth as you knew it was lost to a nuclear war between NATO and China/Russia. Luckily your mission was to construct the colony and you have enough supplies to survive indefinitely. It’s been 25 years since loss of contact. You hear a knock on the door." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The knock woke me. \n\nI blinked at the door a moment. I didn't have to make the doors, nothing else lived on this entire damn planet other than me of course, but it had just felt...*right.*\n\nThe knock came again, more insistent. \n\nI swallowed, and by complete instinct I grabbed the nearest thing to me - a glass stirring rod, and approached the door. \n\nSome image I made as maybe the first human to contact an alien species - a raven haired woman in a nightgown holding a glass rod for God's sake. \n\n*Don't get your hopes up,* that cynical part of me said. *It's probably just you hallucinating from extreme lack of human contact.*\n\nI suppressed that voice. I'd heard the knock, I knew I had. \n\nI opened the door and dropped the glass stirring rod in shock.\n\nBrad stood there, exactly as he had all those years ago. Tall, blond hair and that grin of his. He hadn't changed a bit.\n\n\"Oh my God,\"was all I could say.\n\nBrad raised an eyebrow, and spoke with a smile dancing on his lips, \"Is that a stirring rod or are you just happy to see me?\"\n\nI flung my arms around him and started to cry. \"H-how?\"was all I managed between choking sobs. Images flashed through my head. Our times in college, us laughing, talking, driving around the countryside in the night. ...And watching the explosions as my ship left him, as I abandoned him. \n\n\"Well, you see,\"he said, holding me tightly. \"Contrary to what you think, there are in fact other humans with intelligence. We rebuilt and I came for you. Couldn't leave you alone here could I?\"\n\nMy rational part of me knew then, of course. Knew that it made no sense. Rebuild a spaceship after a nuclear apocalypse? But I kissed him anyways, trying, hoping, praying that he was real, that he wouldn't fade away. \n\nIt didn't work for long. It never did. \n\nI woke up alone.\n***\n(minor edits)\n\nIf you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "After a devastating attack on MI6, James Bond opens the organization’s doomsday vault. He finds a ream of paper from a Pennsylvania paper company with “Scarn” written across the top." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bond's face went pale. Of course the bombed out shell of MI6 was devastating, but the fact that Scarn was the last remaining hope informed him of just how dire the situation had become.\n\nHe wondered how Scarn would handle the news. The last mission the two had went on resulted in Scarn's memory being completely wiped. \n\nBut Bond was a good agent, and he picked up the phone and dialed the number at the bottom of the page.\n\nA ring.\n\nBond wondered if Scarn would even dignify such a call. He'd been out of the game for years. For all Bond knew, Scarn had regained his memory and chosen to stay in the unassuming life they'd given him to protect him.\n\nTwo rings.\n\nThe room was empty and hot. Small fires raged where desks had once stood. Bond could smell the bodies of the men and women who hadn't made it out in time. Bond couldn't help but feel like the old Scarn could've prevented this atrocity.\n\nThree rings.\n\nBond checked his watch and did a little math. It would be 4:00 PM in Scarn's hometown of Scranton, Pennsylvania. He was calling the right number.\n\nFour rings.\n\nNow it was just getting rude.\n\nFinally, a voice answered.\n\n\"Michael Scott's Dunder Mifflin Scranton Meredith Palmer Memorial... Celebrity Rabies Awareness Fun Run Race For The Cure. This is Pam.\"\n\nBefore Bond could respond, he heard a muffled male voice interrupt. \"Pro-Am.\"\n\nIt was a sad realization. Scarn would never return, not in this lifetime. Bond recalled the last time he spoke to Scarn in the hospital. The man had just awoken from a 3 month coma, unable to remember his life as a secret agent as more than a dream. \n\nBond hung up and gritted his teeth together. He hoped that whatever Scarn was doing with his life now was making a difference in the world. But Bond couldn't dwell on the partner he'd lost years ago. He had a country to protect. He loaded his Beretta and began looking for survivors." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A Genie offers you one wish, and you modestly wish to have a very productive 2017. The genie misunderstands, and for the rest of your life, every 20:17 you become impossibly productive for just 60 seconds." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I don't understand my roommate. At all.\n\nIt's a Tuesday and our thesis is due in less than 24 hours.\n\nI've worked on my damn paper for the past semester. Went through countless revisions.\n\nAll my roommate does is slack off in his room, plays video games, smokes dope, and just embodies the character trait of a failure.\n\nI entered his room, it's shortly after 8pm, and he's on his bed listening to music.\n\nI looked towards his desk, a single monitor connected to his desktop.\n\nA blank page in Microsoft Word is open, along with a browser tab pointed to Google.\n\n\"Finish your thesis yet?\"he asks.\n\n\"Yup, had my final revision done on Sunday. How about you?\"\n\n\"Haven't started yet - not too worried honestly\"he said with a chuckle.\n\nI don't get it, how is he so relaxed? Does he not care about his acedemic career? Does he not understand that there is no late submission??\n\n\"Dude you need to start this right now..\"\n\n\"I'll get to it soon, don't worry bro\"\n\nI don't get it, I guess there's only so much you can do to try and help. \n\n\"Well I'm gonna go and cook something up - my girl is coming by in a bit. Maybe I'll have left overs, let me know if you're hungry.\"\n\n\"Hmm sure, maybe in a bit! Oh hey could you turn on my block heater please? Haven't gotten much heat in my room.\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\nHe's worried about the heat? Not his thesis? What happened to him. Pretty sure I'm cooking his last meal, his Dad is strict, it wouldn't be too far fetched to see him get disowned if he fails out of the program. \n\nMaybe that's what he wanted.\n\nMaybe that's what he deserves.\n\nI switched on the heater and left.\n\n-----\n\nThought he'd never leave, I was honestly worried he'd converse me through the only productive minute in my day.\n\nSure my roommate does have a point, I could have started this days in advance. What's the point though, I can get anything done in the most perfect way possible, within 60 seconds. There's literally no point in starting anything on my own, or ahead of time. It's all just an outlook at this point.\n\nAnother 20 seconds to spare.\n\nLet's do this.\n\nI moved to the desk.\n\nHands are on the keyboard, and the clock hits 20:17.\n\nIt's almost as if time slows down. It's hard to describe, it feels as if every thought I have branches off into infinitely smaller branches. Every passing thought gets analyzed and evaluated, in parallel. \n\nHow should I start this opening paragraph, what topics should I pick, how do I make my arguments. All of these thoughts got evaluated almost asynchronously. My brain isn't functioning in the time domain any longer. It's different.\n\nI'm different.\n\nThere.\n\nIt's done.\n\nSuddenly just like that, my brain felt foggier. It's not a side effect. It's not a negative feeling. It's just the stark contrast of being back to baseline.\n\nAdmittedly, I was feeling a bit anxious about this, but hey it worked - like it always did. Guess I should print it.\n\n>File\n\n>Print Document\n\nOh my printer is off.\n\nWait what's that sound?\n\nDarkness.\n\n---\n\n\"Sorry, my girlfriend was blow drying her hair and I guess it blew a fuse since your heater was on too.\"\n\nThere was​ no response.\n\nProbably still listening to music.\n\n---\n\nI didn't hit save.\n\nMaybe it autosaved.\n\nIt didn't.\n\nThink....\n\nFuck." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Abducted humans have, so far, all displayed the same internal organ structure common throughout the galaxy with only one exception. Every one of them has a Glarnak parasite beating inside their chest. They even think it's necessary for life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Faltoxian doctor pecked away at the instruments while the others watched the holographic rendering maneuver to allow a clear view of the Glarnak. The Faltoxian would have been described as birdlike by a human, though the species had left flight behind millennia ago. Their lengthy feathered arms, small stature, and beak face resembled nothing so much as a distended hawk, and the beak maintained a strong multifunctional role among the Faltoxians. \"It's a Glarnak, obviously. The DNA sequencing makes that clear, but the extent to which they've developed is unprecedented. A Glarnak outbreak in any concentration could destroy any number of fauna in the galaxy, yet these humans embrace it.\"The predatory eyes of the faltoxian narrowed and he pecked at the holoscreen, \"Human biology refers to it as the cardiovascular system, and no sentient race in the galaxy has ever been so penetrated by the parasite.\"\n\nThe Faltoxians chest expanded like a balloon as it drew in additional air, \"Somehow the Glarnak have achieved a form of symbiotic relationship with the humans. It's liquid pulmonary system has merged with the traditional mammalian air based pulmonary system to create a high density oxygen storage environment. It allows the humans to achieve sustained bursts of physical activity that any of the sapient species known would be hard pressed to match.\"\n\nThe Aneuvian representative reversed the direction of its mastication with a grinding sound that brought the assembled doctors attention to him. An Aneuvian jaw did not stop moving for the entire life cycle of the species, an odd quirk developed to counteract its uniquely inneficient digestive systems absorption of plant matter. Speaking around the motion was an understandably difficult and slow process that no Aneuvian enjoyed. Thus their words were sparing, and as such all the more significant, \"It comes at some trade off no? The Glarnak appear to have penetrated the majority of the planet's biosphere.\"\n\nThe Faltroxian nodded to his assistant, an Eltusinian whose excess limbs had been carefully tied to its thorax, \"We estimate that 93% of the fauna mass on earth is infected by Glarnak, with 100% penetration among species large enough to house them. Among the Earth's whales the largest Glarnak ever observed can be readily found, it's remarkable.\"\n\nThe Faltoxian cut back across his assistant, \"The Glarnak have obviously been on planet for nearly as long as life has been, they're too deeply interwoven for any other explanation. The planet's entire atmosphere is poisoned by excess oxygen to allow the Glarnak enough fuel to thrive in such numbers.\"The Faltoxian preened, \"fascinating biology, but terrifying. The Glarnak allow these fauna to burn as hot and as bright as an oxygen flame, but the Glarnak's very poison rots them from the inside out. Few species on the planet survive more than a ten of ten years.\"\n\n\"So what do you recommend?\"This from the Aneuvian, two sentences in fewer than a tenth of a tenth day? Would the wonders never cease, mused the Faltoxian.\n\n\"Quarantine,\"the doctor pecked at the holoscreen, \"The humans have achieved all requirements for first contact. Their radio signals make it clear they're hunting for us. It's a harsh sentence to leave a sapient race to stand alone against the void, but the biological risk is too great. To defend itself, the galaxy must leave these humans to fend for themselves alone.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your daughter brings over her boyfriend for dinner for the first time. The kid seems nice, but then, while eating, he pokes a baked potato on his plate and says \"This looks very interesting. What is this? A 'potato'? Oh interesting. Never heard of a potato, looks pretty good.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*'And smells pretty good'* he said starring at the potato. Was he joking? It did not look as if he was. What kind of man has never seen a potato? I did not ask him any of my immediate thoughts, I did not want to appear impolite, so instead I laughed, and the rest of the family started laughing too. The only person not laughing was my daughter. \n\nI observed him for the rest of the dinner, he was indeed a strange boy, often stopping to compliment the potato, but he never took a bite. He even went to fill his plate with more meat, bread and vegetables all while the potatoes were still laying on the side of his plate. Still he complimented them as if he ate them and had eaten many. The boy was hungry too, he ate so much that I went and said:\n\n*'I bet if you ate your potatoes, you would feel full'*\n\nNot a polite thing to say, I know, and it was soon reflected by my daughter when she said: *'Daaad!'* as if I had violated an unwritten rule. My wife said nothing, but I felt her gaze upon me as if she did not find this kid weird at all. Maybe the compliments had gotten to her head. \n\n*'Maybe when we are done eating, you could give me the recipe to the potatoes?'*\n\nAt this point I wanted this shit show to end. Was this kid messing with us, or was I going mad over nothing? Apparently I was. My wife casually started explaining the recipe for 'potatoes'. And it went something like this:\n\n*'First you buy them - then you boil them'*\n\nThat is it. No more magic over here chief. It is plain potato. \n\nThe main course was done and dessert rolled in. And to my surprise my daughter's boyfriend picked up the potatoes from the dinner plate and placed them on the table next to the finely crafted porcelain bowl meant for ice cream. He started stuffing himself again, repeatedly he went to fill his bowl with more dessert. I went to fill mine too. It turned into a one sided battle that only I was aware of. Who could eat the most? The boy did not budge, there was not enough dessert to break him, nor me. The dinner was done and he thanked my wife for a delicious meal:\n\n*'Thank you very much. Now I got to get going as I am in a hurry. You see, I saved the potatoes. Is it okay with you if I take them with me home?'*\n\n*'Of course it is!'*\n\nMy daughter's boyfriend thanked us again, and wished us a good evening. He kissed my daughter on the cheek, picked up the potatoes, and went outside to his car. There was silent until my daughter broke out:\n\n*'He just don't like potatoes okay! Jesus, dad you don't understand a thing!'*\n\nShe went to her room and slammed her door as if I was the bad guy. I could not help but wonder why he had not said so. Was he afraid of being impolite? Maybe so. I thought about it for some moments before I went to the window to check the front porch. It was snowing and somewhat windy. My daughter's boyfriend had not driven off yet, and through the flakes of snow, from window to window, I noticed him sitting behind the wheel eating potatoes." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stared at me with his yellow eyes, quietly playing the harmonica. He looked... almost sad. You know what, no, he was actually sad. Why wouldn't he be? He spent his entire life sitting on an empire, and everyone just up and left him suddenly. Even his demons left; with no reason to stay, and no job to fulfill, they themselves were able to return to Heaven. \n\nI looked around the room I now sat in, taking in what was there. There wasn't much to take in really; it was a simple room, almost like one you'd find in a cottage far out in the country. There was a window on the left wall; it looked out onto reddish stone, a lava stream trickling from a small hill a ways off. Surprisingly, even though there wasn't any sun to shine, it was still light enough to see everything clearly without having to squint.\n\nSuddenly, the music stopped. I looked over to the Devil as he set the harmonica on the table we both sat at.\n\nSighing, he spoke; \"Well, why don't you leave? I've already explained to you there's nothing here. There's nothing to make you stay any more, though I suppose that's inaccurate; there was never anything that made people stay, it just wasn't very clear.\"\n\nI looked back out the window, silent. Why am I staying here? I'm lucky he's not in a vengeful mood anymore, or I'd probably already be in a river of lava much deeper than the stream out the window. \n\nI turned back to him and spoke, saying, \"I'm not sure. I wound up here because I killed myself, and, even if I don't have to stay, if I left for heaven I'd have to deal with everyone again. All the people that were mean in life were supposed to be down here, and now that they can leave, I bet they're in Heaven, unchanged. Why would I join them there when they're the reason I'm here in the first place?\"\n\nThe Devil was quiet. He shifted in his seat, though he didn't stand. When he spoke, his voice wasn't quite as sullen as it had been before; \"well, in that case, I suppose you're here to stay. There's not much to do here, but sometimes it's nice just to...\"he paused, looking at the ground. He shook his head and continued, \"sometimes it's nice just to sit in quiet and not talk to people.\"\n\nI smiled. That didn't sound bad at all, just sitting around. We sat like that, sitting there for who knows how long. The distant bubbling of lava provided a nice ambience that just let a person relax. I decided, while sitting there, that I was going to stay in Hell. Who knows, maybe I'll even bother getting to know the Devil a little better sometime.\n\n(Sorry for any bad grammar, I'm on mobile and wrote this during study hall.)\n\nEDIT (9:19 P.M. CST 02/19/2017) A few minor spelling/grammar errors I finally got 'round to correcting, as wellas a big thanks to u/kittenparry for popping my gold-cherry!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Everyone dies twice; the first time is when they pass away, and the second time is when they're forgotten. You're the True Reaper, and today, you've reaped someone who hasn't passed through your little brother, the Grim Reaper." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The man sat cross-legged on a wide tree stump in the middle of the clearing. Wind whipped at his long beard and passed gently over his bald head. He felt the energy of his breath as he meditated--in--out--in--out. The sounds of the forest surrounding the clearing were plenty, and he was aware of them all, but they did not disrupt his tranquility. He let each one pass through him as easily as the breeze, until one drew his focus abruptly away from his breathing.\n\n\"*Greetings.*\"\n\nThe man's eyes snapped open and he spun on the stump, thrusting himself off and flipping backwards away from the source of the sound--the first voice he'd heard in many decades. Assessing his surroundings, searching for the owner of the voice but finding no one.\n\n\"*Ahh, you're a sharp one. Quite in tune; body and mind, I see.*\"\n\nHe spun again, sliding his foot around in the dirt and swinging a fist at exactly the point the voice had rang out from, but his blow did not make contact and the momentum took him nearly off of his feat. Confused, he bent at his knees and scanned the clearing--focusing back on his breath and doing his best to calm it. \n\n\"*Frightened? Or just surprised? You must have been alone out here for some time now...*\"\n\nThe voice seemed to originate from directly behind him once again, but he did not budge, and it echoed all around him in his stillness. He continued to scan slowly, his hands raised defensively. \n\n\"*Come now, you must still recall how to converse with another rational being. Where are your manners?*\"\n\nHis muscled relaxed and he felt the energy of his breath flowingly soothingly through him. This phantom clearly couldn't be seen, so he narrowed his senses and closed his eyes. \n\n\"*You may soon wish you had taken the chance to speak, for this was your last. I'm afraid.*\"\n\nAn unsettling presence was directly in front of him, he could feel it. The darkness inside his eyelids seemed to grow ever blacker as he felt the force slowly inch towards him, its presence was commanding, and the world around him seem to be compressing. He refocused--in--out--in--out. A sound like a needle piercing through the very fabric of space and time rang out, and in the darkness he could clearly see a dagger being thrust towards his heart. With eyes still closed he clapped his hands in front of him. Trapping the spectral blade in between his palms, the momentum causing him to slide back a few feet in the dirt--he didn't dare open his eyes.\n\n\"*Fascinating...*\"The voice called out and he knew it came from the wielder of the invisible dagger that was still held firmly in his grip. \"*I have not met a soul like you in ages, my friend, and certainly not one still of the physical realm.*\"\n\nA form was beginning to take shape in front of him, blending into the darkness but certainly its own independent shape. In--out--in--out. \n\n\"*Release the dagger. You will not be harmed; you have my word.*\"\n\nThe phantom's words seemed to take a shape of their own, and the man felt instantly that they could be trusted--as if this entity was incapable of falsehoods. He let his hands fall slowly to his side, and the dagger retreated into the dark figure camouflaged in the blackness. \n\n\"*You have been in isolation long enough that you are no longer present in any rational being's memory. A milestone usually reached well after departing from the physical realm; death and time always erase the memory of life, and when the memory of a soul has finally lapsed from existence then that soul meets the True Reaper,* ***me***.\"\n\nThe stillness in the air was unsettling, and the sounds of the forest were now absent as if the world itself had vanished. He remained calm, focusing on his breath and the words of his new acquaintance. \n\n\"*Most pass without a fuss, the dagger is rarely necessary, but I could feel your energy when it called to be reaped--you are different. Your isolation has brought you a mental tranquility that is unmatched by any soul I've encountered in the physical realm, and this is allowing you to act in the realm of true existence.*\"\n\nHis breaths were shorter now, sharper, and he felt as if he was breathing in the very darkness he was perceiving; his focus unwavering. \n\n\"*Your existence is unique, and I do not discard treasures like you with the rest of the trash...*\"\n\nHe was breathing in a rapid cadence now, and with each breath he felt an enormous amount of energy flow into him; as if he was inhaling the sun itself. \n\n\"*Welcome, my friend, to life after life...*\"\n\nr/BeagleTales\n\n~~**Part 2 coming later tonight for those interested!**~~\n\n[Part 2 is now available!](https://www.reddit.com/r/BeagleTales/comments/8j2di2/wp_everyone_dies_twice_the_first_time_is_when/)\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You've been cursed so that whenever you pick up a tool you will lose consciousness but wake up after finishing a project related to that tool, you just picked up a bow hoping to get some hunting done, when you wake up, you're sitting on a throne." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My eyes pried open as if they'd been sealed for a thousand years, rusted shut. The light of awareness stung them, and I felt sand. A lot of sand, whirling about me; rough, coarse and everywhere. Every breath left my mouth grainy.\n\nThere was a man kneeled in front of me, robes stuck to him with sweat, baking under the midday sun. I wiped at my brow and sat up.\n\nSomething creaked.\n\n\"Who... Who are you?\"I asked, trying to rub the grogginess out of my eyes.\n\n\"Your Grace- tell me not that you've forgotten your most loyal servant. It is I, Jakho.\"\n\nI squinted. We were amidst a camp, a massive one, with arrows stuck all in the tents-- and it was empty, from what I could tell. Save for the two of us.\n\n\"Jakho, where am I?\"\n\n\"You are in Garamtir, Your Grace. As a king.\"\n\n\"Impossible.\"I looked around, and still, nothing stirred. \"King of what?\"\n\nHis lip quivered. \"What you said was true. All has been lost. Very well, I will recount recent events to you in brief.\n\n\"You first showed up just two sunsets ago, a strange visitor in these parts. Not many of your race come around often.\n\n\"You challenged our King to a trial by combat. After much laughter, he obliged, mostly in jest, since you are so... You are not as large as the men in these parts. The battle started, and you pulled out a bow, and shot him in the heart.\n\n\"People were in shock, but the men realized that technically the Contract never stated a bow couldn't be used. Upon realizing this, all hell broke loose, and men, women-- even children took up a bow. You're the last one standing.\"\n\nI stared at him, slack-jawed, standing up to a cacophony of creaking, and turned to my throne. \"What is this thing, Jakho?\"\n\n\"I am the only one who surrendered. I was born with weak pride, and was ridiculed from birth. Upon your victory, you accepted me and requested a very... specific throne. I did my best.\"\n\nThere lied the seat of my reign, crudely hewn of broken bows. I turned to Jakho again. \"What am I king of?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Me, I guess.\"\n\n*/r/resonatingfury*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A fleet of spaceships land on earth. Each filled with humans from 2.6 million years ago. They were more advanced than we ever knew, and a some fled earth to escape the coming ice age. They've travelled the galaxies, failing to find a new home. Now they're back to claim their planet..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At first, the world’s top astronomers called it a meteor. They had to. The doomsayers had already begun with tales of green skin, disc-shaped ships, and invasion. Unfortunately, for the first time ever, science was on the doomsayers’ side. The object, whatever it was, steered through our asteroid belt, sling-shotting off Jupiter’s gravity at a speed that would make Einstein turn in his grave.\n\nWhen the thing slowed enough for us to see it, it seemed to solidify the doomsayer’s predictions. A massive ship the size of Rhode Island sailed through the blackened twilight until it pierced our atmosphere and dived into the heart of North America. \n\nWhen it entered United States airspace, we escalated our warning attempts. When its shadow dawned unto New York City, we fired our first ballistic missiles. When its currents brought monsoons to Washington DC, our president had his finger on the one button we prayed he’d never press.\n\nBut it didn’t stop in our most populous areas, nor our most important ones. Instead, the ship kept going until it reached the farmlands of Kansas, where for the first time, we spotted the name carved into the side of its hull. Noah’s Ark.\n\nThe Vatican called it spiritual awakening and demanded we examine it. The nationalists called it a violation of our space and vowed to destroy it. The United Nations called it psychological warfare and pleaded for us to unite against it. Everyone else simply stared, their jaws agape and eyes wide. Somehow, the aliens had split apart the world and with only two words.\n\nFor three days, the ship remained motionless atop miles of flattened corn. A circle of tanks, missile carriers, and soldiers encircled it. When its hull opened, our soldiers’ shoulders stiffened, their fingers trembling just over their triggers as our artillery officers held their breaths. What would such an advanced being want with us?\n\nDrones poured out of the ship and they attacked, but not our soldiers, not our tanks, not even our missiles. They went after the corn, harvest, liquidating, storing. The aliens wanted food. Our military was too stunned to retaliate. They refused to declare war with the most advanced civilization to ever touch this Earth over a few bushels of corn.\n\nThat was our mistake.\n\nBecause back then, we actually had a chance. To hear the aliens speak of it now, they call it genius military strategy, inching their way forward in the grey area of too little provocation and too much risk. But these bastards love stretching the truth. After all, nowadays, they call themselves human.\n\n Our first attempts at communication were met with the cold silence of steel alloy. In fact, silence defined most of that time. Military grunts stopped joking. Protestors stopped shouting. Even the religious nuts only stared, fidgeting with their pentagram necklaces or cross wristbands. Radio waves couldn’t pierce the metal and no drone we sent in garnered any response. At last, we chose a soldier. At least that was his job title, in reality, he was our sacrificial lamb, the first monkey to be shot into space just to see what would happen.\n\nThe world watched with bated breath. His parents held hands, forgetting to even blink as they watched their son approach the ship. Behind the military line was a crowd with signs screaming *hero*. This space monkey held the weight of the world’s hopes.\n\nAnd a hole in hull appeared to his exact size and shape. The aliens were finally willing to talk! Cheers erupted around the world.\n\n“Don’t go in, Private,” we told him. “It’s too risky.”\n\nBut the world’s weight pushed him forward. A billion people holding signs proclaiming him a hero, his daughter who was too scared to even go to sleep at night, his wife who just wanted him back home—it all pushed his feet, one after another, until he stepped through the hole. Then, it closed and the silence returned.\n\nFifteen minutes later, he returned, his face drained of blood and his knees weak. He came with stories of technology that surpassed our greatest sci-fi stories and even pressed into the realm of fantasy. \n\n“They want peace,” he told us and the world celebrated. It was the happy ending the world needed. Everyone was happy, except for his family.\n\n“This isn’t PTSD,” his wife would complain to us. “He’s different.”\n\n“How?” we asked her.\n\n“He just *is*.”\n\nUnfortunately, the world needed this feint hope and so for the sake of humanity, we told her to shut up and join us in celebration as we prepared our second soldier for communication.\n\nHearing about now, they call it a brilliant infiltration. These *heroes* had access to the world’s media, to our leaders, to any important meeting regarding the aliens. They had influence that stretched far beyond their own rank. And they had been replaced by counterfeits.\n\nOne after another, hero after hero, they began replacing us. The more soldiers we sent in there, the more soldiers we wanted to send in. Those *heroes* dangled a carrot in front of us—technology to cure all disease, weaponry to conquer the world, elixirs to fend off even death. So we sent in more soldiers, scientists, and engineers. Each one gave us just a glimpse of that carrot and none ever going in twice.\n\nSuddenly, the aliens weren’t invaders, they were a resource. The Russians and Chinese demanded representation. It became a race to see how many people we could send in there. Entire platoons sat outside the ship, just waiting for their chance to enter.\n\nAnd the complaints kept coming.\n\n“My husband isn’t the same.”\n\n“This isn’t the Heather I know. Something’s wrong.”\n\n“Please listen to me. This isn’t my dad!”\n\nUnfortunately, the world’s response was single and unanimous. “Shut up.” There was too much to be gained. All our fantasies, all at once, were just a metal hull away from reality. Space exploration. Omnipotence. Immortality.\n\nWe silenced those people until the day we sent in our very last soldier. Unlike the others, this one came out running and screaming. He told us it that the ship was completely empty except for the dead, which included that very first hero we sent in.\n\nAt the same time, the military forces every global superpower mutinied. Cabinet members assassinated our leaders. Engineers disabled our nuclear armaments. Within 24 hours, they had taken over the world. But it wasn’t like how we envisioned. Our governments stayed intact, our businesses were kept open, the only difference was that you could no longer tell whether your neighbor was human or not.\n\nThough every year, acceptance of our alien invaders increase world-wide. That means that every year, they indoctrinate and subjugate more true humans. They call themselves humans, but they aren’t. They are invaders on soil we have sworn to defend. And the fact that they believe the war’s already won only proves how little they really know about us.\n\n---\n\n---\n\n/r/jraywang for 200+ stories.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "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." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I bolt upright. My name is David, and that is all I know. I look up to the sky, but there is no sky. I'm in a dark cavern with long stalactites dotting the ceiling. And I can hear voices.\n\n\"David! David!\"The voices scream my name. Before me, I see a man and a woman with their backs to me. Their feet are spread shoulder width apart, and their arms held straight forward. There is something massive standing in front of them, but I can't see it. I rise shakily to my feet and face the nightmare. A horrific demon on all fours roars menacingly at the two who shield me. The woman looks behind her and yells my name again. Refocusing on the monstrosity, she shouts again.\n\n\"Pyrus,\"she calls, and at the word, a white flame spews from her fingertips and sprays the beast. Chanting loudly, the man beside her sends black tendrils from his own hands to encircle it.\n\n\"Fools,\"cries the demon, \"I shall consume the land of the living. I shall taste the blood of humanity!\"Raising a great claw, the monster rakes it across the two people before me. They are knocked off their feet and fly back into the wall, crumbling to the ground in a heap. I sprint over to their bodies, and the demon stomps by, uninterested in me. The man is already dead, his neck is bend at an inhuman angle. The woman lies panting in a pool of blood. When I kneel over her body, she takes my head in shaky hands.\n\n\"I love you,\"she wheezes. With a final breath, she lifts her head to whisper in my ear. \"Encaptas,\"she sighs, then closes her eyes and drops her head heavily to the ground. I don't know these people who died defending me. Were they my parents? My friends? Their deaths infuriate me, and I rise to my feet, fueled by rage. There is the demon, standing before a glowing circle on the wall. As the circle grows brighter, an image becomes clearer on its surface. I see trees, clouds and houses. Mimicking the stance of my two dead protectors, I spread my feet and raise my hands. The demon turns, its face contorted into a grisly grin. I shout.\n\n\"Encaptas,\"my voice booms in the cavern. The demon's contemptuous smile turns into a wail of despair. Thrashing and roaring, the monster collapses as glittering chains shoot out of my hands and wrap tightly around it. Something tugs at my mind, demanding a sacrifice. Unsure of what to do, I offer the memory of the man and woman who defended me. I offer the image of clouds, trees and houses I saw in the glowing circle on the wall. And I offer my name." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "you two are humans that have been thrown into an arena for the amusement of some aliens, you have both been starved for days yet when a delicious steak is placed between you two you do something they wouldn't expect. Share." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sat in my cage, listening to the roar of the crowd outside. A few beings walked by, I didn't take much notice. I hadn't eaten for.. days? Weeks? It's hard to keep track. \n\nA sharp pain in my leg. I looked up. A small alien—a child, perhaps—was poking me with a stick.\n\n\"You're going to kill the other Terran\"it said, wide-eyed.\n\n\"Why would I kill him?\"I asked tiredly. Outside the roars were getting louder. Some of the earlier games must have started. Animals pitted against each other for food. Animals, including \"Terrans\".\n\n\"Because,\"said the alien-child thoughtfully, \"that's what Terrans do.\"\n\n\"We didn't, once.\"I whispered, half to myself.\n\n\"Yes, you do!\"The alien said matter-of-factly. \"All Terrans kill. That's how we know you are animals. Animals that can talk, but still animals. That's why you're in the cage and I'm out here.\"The child had an almost sing-song voice by the end. I said nothing, and eventually he walked off. The words rang in my ears. I was still thinking about what the child had said, when the cage opened and rough hands pulled me out, put a spear in my hand, and towed me through a tunnel. Suddenly, I came out into bright, blinding light. Sand, under my feet. Sweat, making my grip on the weapon slippery. Roaring, cheering, jeering, chanting, filling my ears. As my vision adjusted, I could see the center: a table with a single plate laden with food, the crown piece being a perfectly cooked steak. I let out a whimper. That food was more than I'd seen in an eternity. I'd do anything for it. I'd... I looked down at my hands, holding the spear. *That's why you're in the cage and I'm out here...*\n\n\"Hey!\"I called out to the other guy in the ring. I dropped my spear. \"Hey!\"The crowd's noise quietened a little, there was a buzz of confusion. The other contestant stood, wary, watching me. \"Listen, we can fight, and one of us will eat, and then next week it's the same thing all over again. We don't win. How about once—one time—we finally sit down and share, and remember. Remember what it's like to be human again. Not what they've made us.\"The man hesitated a while more, but we started negotiating terms, making sure there was no treachery. We threw our spears at opposite ends of the arena. By now the crowd was silent, only the low sound of whispering hung in the air. We came closer to the table. There was only one chair. We both knelt in the sand, ignoring it.\n\n\"You tear the steak, and I'll choose which half.\"The man muttered. I tore the meat as neatly in two as I could, but there was still one half visibly bigger than the other. The man took the smaller half without a word and began eating. I started crying, and took the bigger half. While eating the first meal in forever, with my first friend in forever, I didn't notice at first the tears among the crowd. More and more, the aliens went from shocked, to guilt, to weeping. They started to leave. Eventually there was just me and my new friend left, finishing our meal. The last alien to go was one of the guards. He looked at us, nodded at the gate he'd left open, then quietly left. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your son asked you \"dad are clouds candy?\"You told him they were water. Then he asked \"dad, what are Earth's defense systems. Then you remembered you don't have a son, and then he asked again, his eyes now obsidian black. \"what is the defense system father.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Years of memories, thousands maybe even millions of them. All lies even down to his birth. No holding him after his birth. No appreciation of that new baby smell. That feeling of his soft skin against his, the warmth that came with each hug, all a lie to gain information from him. \n\nThen, the real memories came back. Being taken, death and destruction, their skunky smell and slimy feel, these aliens took everything from him, yet he was allowed to live for this bit of information. Earth would give them one hell of a fight, but they needed a fighting chance. Did these beings understand that humans could lie too? His death would come soon truth or not, but there was so much satisfaction in the lie. \n\n\"None, Earth is defenseless.\"\n\n***\n\nIf you enjoyed this, please check out and subscribe to r/nickkuvaas for more stories. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "After people die, they must answer a riddle, and its difficulty depends on their sins. You've committed genocide." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After death there is a plain which stretches endless without horizon. Ups and downs are lefts and rights while the constant sound of color rustles in the air. It is there I found myself. In a land of nothing, surrounded by everything, and utterly confused.\n\nI remembered life. All of it. Vividly. From the first thoughts as I lay in the womb to the last thoughts as I stared down the barrels of my execution. I remember the faces of my killers. They will get what is coming to them.\n\nOr will they? They are alive, and I am supposedly dead. In the great expanse of lifelessness it really doesn't matter. Does it?\n\nHow long have I been here? It is impossible to tell. Perhaps a minute or an eon. Surely those men of the firing squad have died by now. I wonder if they are here somewhere. I would find them if they were, and kill them. If they could be killed. Can you kill someone already dead? I suppose everyone can die. Even me.\n\nBut does death even matter? The soldiers will die, but they mean little. Just grunts for the grinder whose greatest claims to fame will be my execution. They are little men. A lot of dead little men in the world. Killed a lot of them myself, but they didn't matter. They were little people. Insignificant. Not like me, I was something when I lived. But... even I died. So I suppose our deaths don't matter.\n\nBut at least I lived. Oh did I live. I was the master of men, and beckoned death at my very whim. They bowed to me, and I granted them life or I destroyed them. I once razed a village because a dog barked at my procession. That showed them their place. Dead. Like me.\n\nSo. If we everyone dies, regardless of who they are. And everyone lives, at least for a while. But it doesn't matter how long or how well one lives or dies. If we all end up in the merciless plain, then what is the meaning of life?\n\nI sat upon the endless plain and smelled the colorful eternity of death.\n\nWhat is the meaning of life?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Genie looks at you puzzled 'So... you wish for everyone to have 4 arms?', and you say 'yes, I wish that tomorrow everyone wakes up having 4 arms, no explanation, just 4 arms, and if they only had 1 arm or none now they have 4'" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For the first time in his life, the genie didn't immediately grant a wish. He only blinked in astonishment at what he heard. \n\nThroughout millennia he had granted a plethora of strange wishes, like never feeling itchy again or having a really good lawyer, but this one truly stood above the rest. Even the weirdest wish made sense in context. At least those masters had an immediate need that had to be fulfilled. \n\nMany of them sacrificed a lot to acquire the lamp. Seeing them struggle under the weight of unlimited power was half the fun of being a genie. Slowly regretting their choices, isolating themselves with paranoia, making short-sighted decisions to survive. The genie lived for that drama. It made immortality actually bearable.\n\nThis guy, however, had no such pressure. He wielded a bored expression, crossing his arms with impatience. Not a shred of hesitance behind his eyes.\n\n\"Are you sure about this?\"asked the genie. \"You only get three, you know.\"\n\nSteve shrugged. \"It's fine if you can't do it.\"\n\nThe genie frowned. \"I never said that.\"\n\n\"Then what's the problem?\"\n\n\"My powers are nearly infinite! I could make you a king! Or insanely rich! Or even bring world peace!\"\n\nSteve scratched his chin, contemplating. \"World peace, huh?\"\n\n\"Yes! Anything is possible!\"\n\n\"Then why hasn't anyone wished for that, yet?\"\n\nThe genie pursed his lips, suddenly quiet. \n\nSteve raised an eyebrow. \"Well...?\"\n\n\"Four arms, you say?\"The genie snapped his fingers. \"Your wish is my command.\"\n\nSociety would never be the same again. The entire fashion industry suffered a complete overhaul in less than a day. Companies rose and fell faster than anyone could predict, tanking the stock market, with only those who adapted the quickest being able to survive. \n\nThat wasn't the only consequence, though. Many criminals who had just been handcuffed suddenly found themselves with an extra pair of limbs. The police officers didn't even bother chasing them, shocked by their own new mutations. Mayhem ruled the world for a week while people grew adjusted to the change. It was hilarious. Some even started a religion over the incident.\n\nSteve didn't show any horror or delight in this, though. He simply observed everything with a neutral expression. \n\nThe genie had a hard time understanding his master's mind. He wouldn't question it, though. This had been the most interesting use of his powers ever. It was the first time the genie didn't have to twist a wish into backfiring. The consequences rippled without even having to misinterpret his master.\n\nAs weeks turned into months, he started to wonder what the next wish would be. Most masters didn't take this long to make another request. Whatever Steve had planned, it had to be big. Did he plan to take advantage of the chaos? Or was it all for his amusement? Either way, the genie wouldn't complain. To his disappointment, though, Steve didn't alter his life in the aftermath. He simply went about his business like nothing had changed.\n\nThe genie started to fear that would be his only wish, until one day hearing him randomly say:\n\n\"I wish everyone could fly.\"\n\nThe genie squinted. \"Really? Just that?\"\n\n\"Problem?\"\n\n\"Y-you could be the new pope of four arms.\"\n\n\"That sounds like a lot of work.\"\n\n\"Fine, I'll-\"\n\n\"Wait!\"\n\nThe genie paused, suddenly thrilled. Did he reconsider? Would he do something crazier?\n\n\"Make sure to give everyone wings, not just levitation.\"\n\nThe genie hung his head. He should've known better. With a snap of his fingers, he made it happen, and yet another societal uproar occurred.\n\nThe fashion industry pretty much collapsed at that point. They had barely gotten used to the new limbs and couldn't keep up with another change. Many people simply gave up on wearing shirts, or no clothes at all. Fittingly, this also became doctrine in the new religion of four-arms. Along with fashion, both the airlines and automobile industries went bankrupt. Nobody needed them anymore now that they could fly. It also caused the price of oil to plummet, which almost destroyed the economy.\n\nPeople didn't kill each other, though. In fact, civilization grew more peaceful in a few months. Everyone was so confused and scared that they didn't have the energy to fight each other. At least, for that short period of time.\n\nSteve, like usual, didn't even crack a smile. \n\nThe genie felt slightly terrified of his master as time went on. Most people could be predicted. They all had a goal, a reason for finding the lamp, but this guy just did everything on a whim. Not amusement or profit. Just... wishing for its own sake. What could possibly be his third wish? \n\nSteve waited a year to make his final request. The world had been completely altered, but people adjusted to this new way of living. Some even eagerly awaited the next great change, including the genie. Steve must have been thinking really hard about his next wish. It would surely be a big one. Then, like last time, in the middle of a random afternoon, Steve simply said:\n\n\"I wish all my wishes were reverted.\"\n\nThe genie froze. \n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Really? Everything back to normal?\"\n\nSteve nodded. \"But I don't want anyone dying by falling out of the sky. Give them time to land safely.\"\n\nThe genie sighed. \"This is ridiculous.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because...\"\n\n\"Because you can't twist it into something that ruins me?\"\n\nThe genie glanced away.\n\n\"That's what I thought\"said Steve. \n\n\"I give up,\"said the genie, snapping his fingers. \"I will never understand you. Did you just want to waste my time?\"\n\nSteve shook his head, then smiled. \"I just wanted world peace.\"\n\nThe genie furrowed his brow, confused. \"How...?\"\n\n\"People are too arrogant nowadays. They always assume the world is one way, and call that 'normal'. Anything that deviates from that is seen as bad. By twisting everyone's perception, they'll think twice of what normal really means, and maybe they'll learn to stop making snap judgements.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you just wish for that?\"\n\n\"I'm not an idiot. Every genie story shows them twisting a well-intentioned wish into horrible consequences. Also... I really hate fashion.\"\n\nThe genie didn't know what to say. Nobody had ever bested him before. Steve had a goal all along, he just did a good job of hiding it until it couldn't be stopped. And he was right. Society slowly returned to how it used to be, only this time people were a lot more careful about predicting the future. The religion that started from this quickly faded into obscurity, but it's followers earned a new sense of humility after everything they went through, and the fashion industry never truly recovered, since people were weary of all the shift in trends. \n\nAll in all, Steve got the world he wanted. For the rest of time, that period would be regarded as the weirdest year in human history. \n\n\n------\n\n>If you enjoyed this, check out /r/WeirdEmoKidStories for more. Thanks for reading!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The horror story where the victims are genre-savvy, and avoid doing things that would clearly lead to their death. Problem is, that the killer is genre-savvy too, and does not play by the usual rules." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I gripped Marie's shoulders. \"It's all going to be okay. Just stay calm!\"\n\n\"It's not okay! Nothing's okay! M-Mark's dead! Jessie! A-And Kass...!\"Her shaking would not stop. And it's not as if I couldn't have understood it. We'd just seen the dismembered bodies of our best friends scattered across the corridors of this hotel.\n\nI sighed. \"I know. But we're safe now, do you understand? We're locked in. We've barricaded the doors and windows. I've checked, and the air vent isn't big enough for him to get through. He can't get to us from below or above. We've got a gun. He doesn't. The police are on their way. We'll make it through this!\"\n\nThere was nothing I could do to reach her, however.\n\nWhy did things turn out like this? All we wanted was to have a good time before summer break was over.\n\nJessie... we were supposed to be in a study group together this year. She was finally getting out of her shell, too... And now? She was dead. Because of me. Because I'd invited her along. Because I wanted a cheap shot at making out with her.\n\n*Fuck!*\n\n\"We won't die here.\"I told Marie. \"We won't die here.\"\n\nWhat was I saying, though? My fault? No. It was that masked fucker's fault. I call him that, but it's not like it was a secret who he was. That goddamn caretaker's son. I couldn't believe he'd actually tried to play dead. Like we'd fall for that after seeing actual corpses.\n\n\"N-Nathan...\"Marie hugged me. \"I-I... I don't...\"\n\n\"Marie?\"\n\nShe began to cough. Her shakes turned into convulsions.\n\n\"Marie!\"\n\nShe was gurgling blood.\n\n\"Marie?! Fuck! Marie?!\"\n\nMy phone rang. Thinking it was the police, I instinctively picked it up.\n\n\"The poison should be kicking in right about now.\"The voice on the other end said. \"Oh, come on. Think back. I'm the cook in this place. Did you really think I wouldn't have taken the chance when I had it?\"A fake chuckle. \"Props on seeing through me playing dead. But it won't help you now, will it?\"\n\n\"Fuck you!\"I screamed.\n\n\"Well, I will admit, I'm not in a good position myself. You being able to call the police was something I'd taken for granted. Murders in an old house on the hill? The kids never call the cops. I cut the lines, but forgot to steal your cell phones. Stupid mistake.\"\n\n\"They're going to track you down, and they're gonna kill ya, you hear?!\"I growled.\n\n\"By the time they show up, I'll just surrender. Life in prison probably isn't so bad. Especially since I got what I wanted out of this. But you shouldn't be worrying about me at the moment.\"\n\nMarie was on her knees, blood seeping from her mouth.\n\n\"I have the antidote. She can still be saved. All you need to do is remove the barricades from the window and let me in.\"\n\n\"Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?! You'll just kill us both!\"\n\n\"And if I told you I'll only kill you? That I'll respect your brave sacrifice?\"\n\n\"I'd say you're full of shit.\"\n\n\"You're right. I am.\"A deep sigh. \"Was worth a shot, though, wasn't it?\"\n\n\"Dammit! Marie...!\"\n\n\"Truth be told, there's nothing more you can do for her. If she's spitting out blood, the poison's spread through most of her body. She'll be dead in a matter of moments. If it's any consolation, you won't have to mourn her.\"\n\n\"What... do you mean?\"\n\n\"This phone call has just been a distraction. I've spent the last five minutes pumping gas into that room of yours. I'm thinking if you don't blow up on your own, I'll strike a match at some point.\"\n\nMy knees began to shake.\n\n\"Of course, this doesn't have to end that way. Just open the window, and hop out. You'll have to leave the girl behind, though. I can't see you getting far dragging her along.\"\n\nI knew he wasn't bluffing. But I wasn't stupid enough to actually try and go out through the window. Instead, I began pushing furniture away from the door.\n\nMarie looked at me. Still gurgling. Tears running down her cheeks. She was trying to tell me something. Reaching out to me. Begging me not to leave her behind? Maybe.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Marie. But I have to save myself.\"\n\nI pulled the door open.\n\nAnd there he was.\n\nThe masked killer.\n\n\"Looks like I'm not the only one that made a leap in logic tonight, eh?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When you were younger, you made a deal with the ghost of a girl in your room to allow them to possess you at night as long as they left at dawn. Usually they do innocuous things and when they're done they usually leave a note explaining what they did. Tonight, the note just said \"I'm sorry.\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When most kids say they have an imaginary friend, the automatic response is to assume they're just being childish and smile and nod at them.\n\nThis played out quite well for Audrey, who was a spirit tethered to the material world. When she first met Kim, they became friends quicker than a drop of water evaporates off of summer asphalt. Kim, being only a six year old at the time, was a stranger to discretion and tried to tell everyone about her new friend. No one believed her. \n\nThen, after a few weeks of visits, they had become great friends, and Audrey asked Kim for a favor.\n\n\"Let me be you for a little while,\"she asked, right after Kim's parents had tucked her into bed.\n\n\"What does that mean?\"Kim asked, brows trying to dig into her nose.\n\n\"After you go to sleep, I'll be you for a little while.\"\n\n\"Why would you want to be me? I can't fly around and stuff like you can.\"\n\n\"No, but you can do things like eat and touch and smell. I can't do all of that. Pretty please?\"Her ethereal hands were woven together, bottom lip pushed forward.\n\nKim smiled. \"Okay fine. But don't get me in trouble, okay?\"\n\n\"I promise, I won't. I'll leave you a note that says what I did to prove it.\"\n\nAnd Audrey was true to her word. That first night, she didn't even leave bed, too giddy piled in the sheets and feeling their softness and warmth to move onto anything else--that made for a very short note. But once her fun ended, Audrey felt very tired and weak, and couldn't talk much to Kim for some time.\n\nWhenever she could, Audrey would show up for a visit in the night and make the same request. As Kim grew older, she set more and more rules; stay away from Dad, don't touch any clothes, don't eat the cookie dough.\n\nThe notes were always simple enough.\n\n>Hi Kim! Tonight I ate an apple, oh my gosh, it was so fresh and juicy and sweet! They used to be my favorite!\n\nThey seldom talked about much else, but when they did, Audrey didn't ever want to talk about herself. She'd always say she didn't feel like it, or that she didn't remember too much about her life. So the cycle kept going, and Kim never got to grow with Audrey as a friend.\n\n>Hey Kimmy! I watched that movie you told me about, Harry Potter. Oh my goodness, TV is so awesome now! I can't believe the monster looked so real! Don't worry, I put everything back and the volume was very low.\n\n---\n\nFinally, one day, Kim said no at first.\n\n\"Why not? Come on, Kim!\"Audrey was begging, as she always did.\n\n\"You never wanna talk with me, Audrey. Let's talk a little before I go to bed, at least!\"\n\nThe ghost pouted. \"There's nothing to talk about. Don't be mean!\"\n\nKim crossed her arms. \"I always let you do it for free, but this time, I get to ask you three questions and you have to answer honestly.\"\n\nPouting, Audrey agreed--if only for the end prize. \"Go ahead.\"\n\n\"Hmmm, okay. Number one: what's your favorite color?\"\n\n\"Purple.\"\n\nKim scrunched her nose. \"Yuck, purple is the worst! I like green. Okay, two. . . where's your family? Are they around here?\"\n\nAudrey flashed with anger, huffing. \"I don't want to play this stupid game anymore.\"\n\n\"Well then you can't be me tonight.\"\n\n\"Why are you being such a butthead?\"\n\n\"You're the butthead, Audrey. Answer the question or no apples and TV tonight.\"\n\nThe spirit wriggled and groaned, debating which was less awful of a choice. \"I don't know where they are. I can't find them. But I don't care, I have you.\"\n\nKim's brow knitted. \"Don't you miss them? What about your mom?\"\n\n\"Ugh, that's your third question then.\"\n\n\"Well...\"Kim opened her mouth to protest, but bit the words off. \"Okay, fine. Boo.\"\n\nAudrey's eyes shied away. \"I don't like my Mom. She left me when I was real little and I never saw her again.\"\n\n\"Where'd she go?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I don't care. She's the worst. I barely remember her, but she was always dressed weird and bald and then left and never came back, and I don't miss her. Whatever. Happy now?\"\n\nKim's face said no, but she settled into bed and let sleep come as a reward for her friend.\n\n---\n\nShe awoke when it was still dark out, to a note with one word scribbled on it very poorly.\n\n>Sorry.\n\nKim ran all around the room, looking for anything broken or missing, stumbling in the dark until her eyes adjusted, but found nothing amiss.\n\n\"Audrey?\"she hissed into the night. \"What did you do?\"\n\nSilence--then, slowly, Audrey peeked her head in through the window. \"Nothing bad.\"\n\n\"Why'd you say sorry?\"\n\n\"Just. . . don't be mad, okay?\"\n\nKim scowled at her. \"Audrey. . .\"\n\n\"I hugged your dad. He woke up and I made up something about having a nightmare and hugged him a lot.\"\n\nKim threw her arms up. \"I told you not to go near him!\"\n\nThe spirit recoiled, balling up a little. \"I'm sorry. I just. . . I wanted a hug. I feel so lonely and I wanted to go hug him.\"\n\n\"You promised, Audrey. I can't believe you broke your promise.\"\n\nLike a whisper, Audrey vanished into the breeze outside, mingling with the great oak dancing in front of her window. Kim crawled back into bed for a little while.\n\n---\n\nCrawling out of bed, Kim peeked at the note on her desk, but nothing had changed--at least Audrey hadn't snuck in again. As far as she knew, anyway. \n\nDownstairs, the smell and sizzle of eggs hit her, a smell she hated first thing in the morning, and poured herself a bowl of cereal as he cooked.\n\n\"Morning, sweetie,\"he said, flashing a weary smile. \"Feeling better? Any more nightmares?\"\n\n\"No,\"Kim replied, splashing milk onto the Cheerios and lazily taking a bite.\n\n\"You alright girl?\"\n\n\"I'm fine.\"\n\n\"Okay. I'm here for you, though. If you need it.\"\n\nA pause fell over them as he focused on the pan, and she slowly munched a few meager bites.\n\n\"Dad?\"she asked, meek and staring into her cereal.\n\n\"Yes, hon?\"\n\n\"I have this friend. And she's a really cool person, I always let her play with my phone and stuff at school because she doesn't have any. But she started acting weird and I told her she can't keep using my stuff anymore, she's gotta get her own. And now I never see her anymore.\"\n\nJack turned from his omellete, brow knitted. \"What in the world are you talking about? What friend is this? Julie?\"\n\nKim stirred the Cheerios aimlessly. \"No, no. Someone you don't know. But why would she just hide from me now?\"\n\n\"You've been acting so strange today. . .\"--he inhaled sharply, shaking his head at the eggs--\"but I guess if she was used to sharing your stuff and you took it all away, maybe she's just sad because she doesn't have any of her own right now. But it could also be that now she wants to find her own phone, because sometimes people feel bad when they realize they don't have their own stuff.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Thanks.\"Kim opened her mouth to ask another question, but instead abandoned the cereal and her father's shouts, running upstairs and letting ink fly across the back of the page Audrey had last left her.\n\nAnd on it she wrote something very simple.\n\n>Hi Audrey. I hope you're okay. I don't know if you'll see this but I wanted to say sorry. I got scared when you said that stuff about pretending to be me with my dad.\n\n>I still think that was bad. You shouldn't try and be me, you should be you. I like you the way you are. I think you'll be happy again if you try and be you. Also, I don't know where your mom is, but she's probably sad you're here with us. My dad would be sad if I left. I know you said you're mad at her, but it would be good to find her, and maybe try to forgive her. Maybe she didn't mean to leave you alone.\n\n>love you lots,\n\n>kimmy\n\nShe didn't know it--maybe she never would. But in that moment, before the last word could even seep into the page and dry, a breeze whispered through the great tree outside her window like the sigh of a soul that had finally been set free.\n\n----\n\n*/r/resonatingfury*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a successful artist who has a condition where you randomly black out. When you wake up, you see that you have created beautiful masterpeices that you don't remember painting. Lately, all of your paintings have been more and more disturbing." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It began with a still life painting of a dimly lit kitchen. There was a set of knives laid neatly on the surface alongside a length of worn rope. The details on the rope were exquisite, more than I usually put into my works. I didn't remember painting it, but the paint on my hands and brushes was proof enough that the alcohol I'd imbibed last night had worked its magic on my muse.\n\nThere was something about the painting that bothered me, though. It didn't feel like mine. I decided to sell it. Despite the fact that still-lifes are typically worthless, the painting managed to fetch a small sum. I set the money aside and promised myself that I wouldn't drink that much again.\n\nBut the paintings kept coming. A landscape. A house. A tree hung with rope. A noose. The same knives, bloody and wet.\n\nMy anxiety grew. I hadn't had a drink in over a month, but the blackouts didn't stop. I didn't like where these paintings were going. What was wrong with me? I sold them all, the art dealer commenting on the perfectly shaped leaves on my tree. I could only smile-grimace at her. I threw out my brushes and shredded my canvases. I took a long weekend to myself.\n\nThe next morning, it was there.\n\nA woman. \n\nThe art dealer dropped by that morning as I was putting the painting out in the garbage, and she seemed somewhat nervous as she looked at the first portrait I'd painted in two years. She bought it despite my protests, despite the tear, despite the look of abject horror on the woman's face.\n\nI tried not to think too much on it.\n\nUntil the police came knocking three days later. The officer held up a picture of a woman, though this one looked less afraid. Did I know this woman, they asked. I didn't know. I swore that I didn't know, the fear from her painted eyes infecting me too. I didn't know. I didn't know. I didn't...\n\nThe officer showed me photos of my paintings. The kitchen, the knives, the tree hung with rope. Only, they weren't my paintings.\n\nA crime scene.\n\nNo. It wasn't me. \n\nThe officer smiled gently as he pulled out the handcuffs. If I would just come along, they were sure to get this all sorted out down at the station. They were going to have a look around my house. \n\nI didn't fight as the handcuffs clicked around my wrist. I didn't look back to the painting on my living room wall. I didn't flinch when they read me my rights.\n\nI only looked down at my hands, red. Red with paint." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The eldritch god stood before the girl, in almost human form. \"Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they will just try another deity, but I will not force this on you. Have this credit card and live as you wish. If you want something else instead, just ask.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was decades ago that I accepted a female child to be my bride. Despite having no intentions of making her such, I bought her off her parents, knowing they would find another buyer. I gave her wealth and told her to live as she wished and if she wanted something else to ask. \n\nWealth wasn't what she wanted. So she asked. It was something I couldn't deliver. I tried. I brought her with me as I looked long and hard for her desire. Days turned to weeks, to months, to years. I brought her to many places. Places full of good humans, bad ones, places normal humans couldn't go, or wouldn't. I brought her through realm after realm that my powers gave me access to. \n\nAnd still I failed. \n\nShe asked for other things too though, and those I could give her. I made sure to. Eventually she found a place she wanted to be, a place to stay.\n\nI visited often. It hurt to watch her grow old before my eyes. Though it was enjoyable too. I helped her in every way I could. To me her life was so short, and yet left such a big impact on me. \n\n\"Do you remember what I asked for when we first met?\"She asked laying in bed. Her hair long ago lost its color, her skin wrinkled.\n\n\"Yes, you wanted a parent. A real one, who wouldn't trade you away. Who would love you, care for you, and cherish you. I'm sorry I couldn't find one.\"It seemed like yesterday, and yet it was a lifetime ago for her. \n\n\"You were one, you are one.\"She responded. \n\nI realized then that I hadn't failed. Despite the difficulty, the impossibility of the task I had undertaken all those years ago. I had succeeded and even if I was unable to accept it before. \n\nI had always thought there was someone, something better out there to be her parent. \n\nShe didn't." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're an ordinary cop, trying to get fired, but everything you do leads to a: \"You're a loose cannon, but by god you're a good detective\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The unfortunate part about being a cop is that you have to get really creative when you want to commit career suicide.\n\nIt’s not like you can chuck a cup of slush over the counter at some lady, fill your classroom blackboard with enough swear words to traumatize your students for life, or pilot your plane into a mountainside.\n\nMe? I’ve been trying to get fired for a year. And somehow, everything kept turning out okay in the end. Killing the chief’s dog and leaving it on his office desk led to a department-wide investigation by IAB that uncovered several gang moles in the force. Crashing my patrol car into a suburban home while dosed to the eyeballs with cocaine led me to discover the meth lab we’d been tracking for weeks. Chief even called my drug-induced discovery “a revelation in crime-busting”. What the hell?\n\nI’ll get there someday, I know. But today, I have to save our president.\n\n“This is insane!” Bobby cried as we crouched behind a store counter, while gunfire thundered in the street outside. “Where did these people even come from?”\n\nI only grunted in reply as I reloaded my pistol. A good question, to which nobody had an answer to. The parade was proceeding without a hitch when suddenly, men dressed in black began popping up everywhere. Taking us by surprise, their assault rifles made short work of the police and Secret Service. Some of them even had grenade launchers.\n\n“I didn’t sign up for this shit!” Bobby said, clutching his gun to his chest like it was his baby.\n\n“Shut up,” I said. Kid’s gonna piss himself soon if we didn’t get out of here. “Just stay close to me. We gotta regroup with the president.”\n\nThe president was holed up in the McDonald’s across the street, less than a minute’s stroll on a normal day. Today, the road was pockmarked with craters, and an overturned car burning merrily on the sidewalk.\n\n“Get on the radio, call in backup,” I said.\n\nBobby stared at me incredulously. “Every damned cop in the country would be on their way here already.”\n\nI shrugged and stood. “You ready?”\n\n“No.”\n\n“Let’s go. Don’t stop at all.”\n\nWithout waiting for him, I sprinted across the road. Bullets whizzed past me, slamming into the ground and tearing up chunks of tarmac that peppered my shins. I fired back, wildly, hollering at the top of my lungs. After what felt like an eternity of running, I skidded to a halt inside the wrecked interior of the McDonald’s.\n\nBobby followed a split second later, tripping over his feet and rolling across the glass-carpeted floor.\n\n“Where’s the president?” he said, gasping.\n\nI frowned and held up a hand to silence him. “There’s no one here.”\n\n“Can’t be.” Before I could stop him, Bobby hurried to the back of the restaurant. Then, there came a yell from him. “He’s here!”\n\nI rushed to follow, and found him standing over our wounded president. The old man was holding a blood-soaked rag over his shoulder, wincing. All around him lay dead or wounded members of the Secret Service.\n\n“Shit,” Bobby said, eyes wide.\n\n“Damn right,” I said, and shot him in the head.\n\n“Jesus,” the president said. “What—what the hell do you think you’re doing, officer?”\n\n“I’m retiring,” I said, taking out my phone and going to kneel beside him. “Smile for the camera.”\n\n“What?” he said weakly. “Are you with—”\n\nHe cut off his sentence with a strangled cry when I pressed my gun into his shoulder.\n\n“I’m going to kill you,” I said. “Right in front of the whole, wide world. Look at that! Six million viewers already. I guess these people started taking my stream seriously when the shooting began.”\n\n“You … sick … bastard …”\n\n“Don’t blame me for this,” I said. “I just want to live out the rest of my life with my kids. But no, every time I try to resign, my letter gets thrown back onto my desk with commendations.”\n\nHe screamed when I shot him in the right kneecap.\n\n“This is so much fun,” I said. “Maybe you can tell the chief on my behalf, I’ll finally get out eh? If you survive, that is.”\n\n“Okay, okay, I’ll tell the truth!” he said, sobbing. “The real president’s hidden in a secret basement under the Oval Office.”\n\nMy chuckles died in my throat. “Say what?”\n\n“I’m—an imposter. The FBI found out, and that’s why they’re trying to kill me. I’m sorry, please don’t kill me!”\n\n“You’re lying,” I said in growing horror. “And I killed Bobby. There’s no way—”\n\n“Bobby?” the president said. He seemed almost delirious. “That’s my most trusted agent, Stryker. He was here to extract me … oh God, the pain, make it stop.”\n\n“This can’t be true,” I said, watching the views climb to ten million. “No, this has got to be a joke!”\n\nSuddenly, a battalion of the gunmen charged into the building, surrounding us. I counted no fewer than two dozen rifles pointed our way. Immediately, I dropped the gun and the phone, but then a familiar voice said, “If it isn’t Lance the Badass.”\n\nOne of the men removed his balaclava, revealing the grinning face of Chief Sanders.\n\n“Chief?” I said in disbelief.\n\n“Of course you’d get to our man first,” he said, laughing.\n\n“This can’t be!”\n\n“You’re just too good at this job,” he said, while two others grabbed hold of the imposter and dragged him away. “Looks like—”\n\n“No, please don’t—”\n\n“—another commendation is on the way!”\n\n***\n\n*Thanks for reading! Check out [The Nonsense Locker](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories!*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You study magic at the top school in the world. Your village saved every penny to send you, but you suck. You find the spells hard to pronounce and memorize. They always feel odd, till one day you discover something called a \"dictionary\"and you see everyone is pronouncing them incorrectly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*Poltergeist* | ˈpɒltəɡʌɪst\n\n*noun*\n\n*a ghost or other supernatural being supposedly responsible for physical disturbances such as making loud noises and throwing objects about.*\n\n***\n\nThe young boy looked stunned. He flipped through a few pages and found another \"oddly familiar\"word. His old tinted spectacles slid through the bridge of his sweaty nose.\n\n***\n\n*Chameleon (also Chamaeleon)* | kəˈmiːlɪən\n\n*noun*\n\n*a small slow-moving Old World lizard with a prehensile tail, long extensible tongue, protruding eyes that rotate independently, and a highly developed ability to change colour.*\n\n*(figurative) a person who changes their opinions or behaviour according to the situation: voters have misgivings about his performance as a political chameleon.*\n\n***\n\nHe let out a nervous giggle. His hair fuzzy from his furiously rubbing hands. His distress was fairly visible on his face.\n\n*How in the world of all things magic would it be possible?* He thought to himself. *Surely, all those blasted old bats couldn't have been wrong all along?! One would look at their old robes and weathered souls as an indication that they've mastered their arts well?*\n\nBut alas, he couldn't contain his own doubts.\n\nHe produced a tiny gnarled stick from his pocket. It was black, thin, yet twisted in such a way to inspire mystery. Once out, he rubbed the tip with his robes. A sparkle of white light flew off of said tip.\n\n\"*ɪˈl(j)uːmɪnetɪ*!\"yelled the boy at the top of his lungs.\n\nIn a slow burn, the tip of his stick began to emit a dim light. He had always attributed the weakness to the size of his stick. Surely, the other jocks back at the school – what with their huge impressively awe-inspiring sticks – would've produced an explosive light, he mused with a sigh.\n\n... and so, he flipped the book once more until it reached a section \"I\".\n\n***\n\n*Illuminate* | **ɪˈl(j)uːmɪneɪt**\n\nverb\n\n*[with object] light up: a flash of lightning illuminated the house | figurative : his face was illuminated by a smile.*\n\n***\n\nThen a flicker of light seemed to have shone through his thick inner skull. He promptly braced his own body and stick, once more.\n\nHe heaved a deep breath and screamed. This time, he was filled with confidence.\n\n\"*ɪˈl(j)uːmɪneɪt*!!!\"\n\nA bright blinding light. It was as if the sun, blaring at its' zenith, had been shuttered. It was truly magnificent.\n\n*Is... Is this the secret to magic? Have I just discovered the ultimate power to success?* He wondered as the light grew stronger by the minute.\n\nThoughts of academic prestige, fame, and even domination of the magical world went through his just-opened mind. He visualised all the things possible that was once impossible. This boy, rendered shy and depressed by his own past failures, could finally face his demons in complete confidence.\n\nAll because of a book.\n\n*What should I do first....?* He wondered as he walked back to his dorm, book hidden in his robe. *Maybe I should get Evelyn to go out with me for some shaved ice, eh?*\n\nEdit: Minor formatting errors." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You have a button which kills all spiders within 5 meters from you. When they die, they make a slight \"pop\"sound, depending on their relative size. You've never heard anything louder than a bubble wrap pop. One night before going to bed, you press the button and hear a shotgun blast." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "> ---ourns today as the two funerals process through lower Manhattan. A local professor, slain in an apparent mugging gone wrong, was found in an alleyway between 5th and Park Ave. \n\n> While friends, family, faculty, and students grieve for Professor Parker, the world at large mourns the loss of what was apparently his alter-ego. As Spider-Man, Dr. Parker has saved the world countless times alongside his fellow Aven---\n\nI turned off the T.V., no longer wondering why Mysterio had given me a way to fight back against my fears. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're the god of dinosaurs, and you've just woken up from a 65 million year nap to find out the puny god of mammals has been busy while you weren't looking." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sat up from my cloud and stretched my disproportionately small arms.\n\n\"Maaaan that feels good. Let's see here, how long have I been out?\"\n\nI looked at the stars to see which ones are still there. Polaris Australis seems to have vanished from the sky in the time I was asleep.\n\n\"Huh, seems I overslept a little. I should really set an alarm next time.\"\n\nI looked down on the earth to check how my creations evolved in the meager 65 million years I gave them to live about their daily lives on their own. But where are they? A migration? I quickly checked the other side of the earth. Nothing. Could they have reverted back to their days in the oceans? I swept through the deepest part of the oceans only to find few that slightly resembled what I had once created. I searched caves across the globe only to find the remnants of my creations in the form of fossils. I returned to the cloud and sat down, at a loss for words.\n\nDeus Mamallis happened across the sky and noticed me. He looked happy to see me at first, then his eyebrows creased in concern. He approached and spoke.\n\n\"Tyrann! I haven't seen you in ages! Um, I suppose you noticed there has been some changes.\"\n\n\"Some changes? Nothing that I created lives anymore! What have you done??\"I responded.\n\n\"No, no, not me! It was a meteor or...a few of them really. Wiped almost everything out. I'm not really sure who is responsible for that one. Wasn't supposed to happen for a few billion years, but looks like the timeline got sped up.\"\n\nI only stared in response, how could I possibly rebuild. Everything I had worked towards was gone.\n\n\"It's not all bad though! Gave us all a blank slate actually, come see my new work. I think you'll like it. I call them, 'humans'.\"\n\nI surveyed his creations mingling about in odd ways.\n\n\"They are so...tiny.\"\n\n\"Don't let that fool you, they've come a long way in a very short span of time. They even claimed some of my other creations and bred them for different purposes. They call this new domesticated breed a 'dog'. They get along quite well with each other. Seems they have a bit of their old man's creationist instinct, eh?\"\n\nNow that I looked more carefully, they took over the entire planet. Just as my creations had once done. I looked to Mamallis, a god who was previously nothing in comparison to me, and I begged him.\n\n\"There must be somewhere I can rebuild. A god is no god without his creations.\"I pleaded.\n\nHe looked back deeply saddened that his own creations were not enough to satisfy me, yet he understood just as any god would.\n\n\"Where could we possibly put them now? These beings would oppose each other at length until only one or the other survived. We both know that.\"\n\nI scanned the horizon and found a single island uninhabited by his creations. Though close enough that they may one day be discovered. A good place to begin.\n\n\"There.\"I pointed to the island. \"I will rebuild there.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You've been dating your partner for six months. Tonight they've invited you to a work event, and as you step onto the red carpet, you realize it for the first time: you're dating a celebrity." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\n \n \n \nA camera flashes as I open the car door and, elegant as ever, Amile steps out before extending her hand to me, hoop bracelets sliding down her wrist and stopping against the contour of her hand. Her long fingers are decorated with rings. There are three more camera flashes before I finally accept her hand and exit the car. In those moments, I feel elegant too. Eyes fall on me, like an unveiled sculpture, chiseled marble drawing the attention of the crowd as they stare through their lenses and the lightning storm of captured moments begins. \n \nIn any relationship, there is some defining moment where you go from simply loving someone to really knowing them. Perhaps you’ll love them once you know them but it doesn’t always work that way. \n \nIn the car, before my birth into the realm of really knowing the woman I’ve spent the last six months with, surrounded by the smell of the leather seats and our perfume, I just loved her. I loved her because she was beautiful and kind. She liked whiskey and, when I met her at the bar, I told her that I found her taste appealing. I’d never really understood the fruity drinks, I told her. She agreed. I loved her because she had an uncanny ability to make people smile, no matter how terrible they felt. In many moments, even if bookending the smiles and laughter were despair and hollow sadness, she made me happier than I’d ever been in my life. \n \nIn any relationship, you’ll learn something you felt you should have known before you began dating. Like maybe she really likes cats. Or she puts ranch dressing on her pizza. Maybe, in her basement, she has a secret Lego collection. Whatever. You’ll think, wow, I really wish I’d known that. For better or for worse, you’ll think, that feels important to me. \n \n“Come on,” she whispers, nudging me and talking with nearly unmoving lips. Her hand waves to onlookers who are barricaded behind gates and ropes. \n \n“What the hell is this?” I ask. But she raises her brows at me and laughs, gesturing to the red carpet beneath our heels, bejeweled and incredibly neither of our style. “I thought you worked at the movies?” She laughs. Her head shakes, earrings bouncing against her jaw. She asks me if I really didn’t know.\n \n“Know what?” I reply. \n \nShe tells me that she’s in the movies. Recently manicured brows arched up toward my hairline, I assess the situation again. The car is gone and we are ushered down the carpet as long stretch limo pulls up in its place. Like she’s done this one hundred times before, Amile walks along the narrow carpeted ground, her head turns and she points her perfect smile from camera to camera and jabs her elbow into my ribs again. \n \n“Smile, ok,” she says. \n \nSo I do. Behind us, actors whose names I step on any time people visit and we have to take them to walk down Hollywood Boulevard, these hot shot big timers, they're climbing out of limos and walking casually. They don’t even question what I’m doing here. \n \n“That..” I start, staring at a man would couldn’t possibly be Brad Pitt. I’m rewarded with another sharp nudge and a pointed head shake. \n \nMaybe we just aren’t meant to know everything about a person. Not when you start dating them. Not when you marry someone. Maybe not even in your entire life that you spend with them. When I enter the building, men and women in attire nicer than anything I’ve ever owned serve us drinks before we begin our walk past life-size posters of people from billboards and patterned walls where we’re meant to pose for pictures. Anyway, I’m thinking, as we smile for our umpteeth picture of the evening, that my inability to keep up with media is a good thing. I’m thinking, sometimes not knowing comes in handy. Because I doubt I’d have met her otherwise. \n\n---------------------------------------------------\n\nI'm new to this but I'll be posting future stories on /r/edgarallanhobo so, if you'd like, feel free to subscribe to see future work! Thank you all for your kind words! " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A scientist has discovered the vaccine of immortality. The only side effect is, though, infertility. After the whole world got vaccinated, it turns out immortality is a hoax it is just an infertility vaccine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We like to think we’re “civilized.” That we don’t revel in the pain of our enemies, that we don’t wish the most horrible of fates in those who would hurt us and ours. It’s a truth that makes us uncomfortable, that inside each one of us sleeps a beast that would rip apart anyone, *anyone* who dared cross a line. The line is different for everyone. For a mother it may be harming her child, for a patriot it may be invading his country, for a miser it may be taking his money. \n\nWe can pretend all we want, it changes nothing. There is a monster inside all of us, and for many of us, it came out with betrayal of Dr. Karen Williams. \n\nShe stood in front of the prison, flanked by armed guards. She’d go inside the squat building behind her which contained the best doctors the world had to offer. They would work very, very hard to keep her alive for as long as they could. She would be tortured every day until she died. It would be a televised event. All proceeds would go to the effort to counter her heinous crime. \n\nBut now she stood, and, through some strange consensus, although no one had decided upon this, she spoke to the crowd of millions that had gathered to watch her go in, and the crowd, the world, had known she would. \n\n“You hate me,” she said, “her voice being played on millions of screens. “You think I have–”\n\n“Shut the fuck up!” Someone said\n\n“Someone just shoot that bitch,\"another voice called out, both were immediately silenced.\n\n Dr. Karen continued as if nothing had happened. “You think I have betrayed you, that I am some twisted, insane maniac who thinks the human race doesn’t deserve to continue. That the world would be better off without us.”\n\nThe world held its breath. Everyone had thought her one of those maniacs. A few idiots had praised her, saying it was the right thing to do, before their neighbors had ripped them apart. \n\n“This could not be further from the truth,” she said. “I have committed a grave crime, I admit. If there is a hell, I will spend an eternity in it after being inflicted with whatever agony you can imagine, but years later, when the anger has faded and the objectivity kicks in, you’ll thank me.”\n\n“We’ll all be dead in a few years you bitch!” A voice called, and this time a small chorus echoed its sentiment before being silenced.\n\nShe smiled. As she was about to die in the worst way in history she smiled. “Humans will be united. For the first time in history, almost every mind in the world will be united to achieve something. Infertility? Please, you’ll solve it in a few years,” she scoffed. “But once you have a taste of this cooperation, you’ll do it again. Not immediately perhaps, or not fully, but you’ll see what a united humanity can do and you’ll do it again. And again. And again. I have ushered in a new golden age. You may not see it now, your children might not, nor their children. But someone down the line will. I’m sure of it.”\n\nDead silence greeted her. \n\nThe guards escorted her inside the building without ceremony. She was screaming and crying hours later. \n\n***\n**An excerpt from *History: A Human Perspective*, © December 2267**\n\n*The infertility crisis as it is known, is somewhat of a misnomer. It is what caused the birth of the United Science League, and gave the United Nations sweeping powers to control research funding. Within a decade a cure to the vaccine was found, but these organizations persisted. Within half a century we had a colony on the moon, had terraformed Mars, and a century later we had mastered interstellar travel. Sociologists predicted that such progress, such a united front, might have taken a 1000 years to occur and at the cost of some war or the other. The world agrees, perhaps a bit grudgingly, that Dr. Karen Williams is perhaps the single most vital catalyst in human history. A hero, some might say.*\n\n***\n\n(minor edits)\n\nIf you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)\n \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a child therapist who treats extreme cases of children terrified of a monster in their closet. They're extreme because they're real, and you're actually secretly a demon hunter using these therapy sessions to gather intel on the monsters before killing them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Back then, no one had believed. There had been no one who would actually help. Every therapist my parents sent me to tried to treat *me*, while the actual problem hid under my bed at nights, waiting, its grin providing the nightmares, but without the sleep. The teachers noticed. How could they not as I slept through their classes? But the shrinks did nothing to help.\n\nJack now sits before me, seven years old. He looks the same as I did. His parents had been impressed by my confidence in the face of the failure of every other professional so far. A dazzling white smile goes a long way when you need a kid's folks to trust you.\n\n\"No one believes me. Why don't people believe me? It's real!\"The poor fella is on the verge of tears now. I remember the feeling.\n\n\"I understand, Jack. And I believe you. I know it's real because I've seen it.\"\n\nHis eyes go wide at this, then settle into a cautious skepticism. He's heard this before. People have told him they believe him, then they've talked to him about his home life. They've asked him about school, his fears, his diet, what he does before bed. I know. But no one has told him they've seen it. That's giving him hope right now. Just a little.\n\n\"What's the worst part for you? It's the smile, right? How it looks up at you, knowing it will be taking you away, piece by piece, and there's nothing you can do?\"\n\nJack nods, wipes his eyes, and stares up at me, dumbfounded and curious. I wish I had been able to experience what he is feeling right now.\n\n\"It's the reason I got into this line of work, did you know? I've been waiting for someone to come to me with this one. We're going to beat it.\"\n\nA wicked, albeit gap-toothed, grin crosses the boy's face. He's ready for payback.\n\n\"Let's sit here for the next half hour and play some cards. Or you can take a nap. Just tell your parents we talked about the same things you talked about with every other therapist, ok? I'm going to set up a home observation visit as soon as possible.\"\n\nHis little face scrunches up. \"A home observation visit? What's that?\"\n\n\"I'm going to get your parents' permission to let me observe you sleeping. I'll hide in your room, and together, we'll end this thing.\"\n\nHis nod is so fierce I'm sure he's going to get whiplash.\n\nAs the poor kid naps on my couch five minutes later, my thoughts drift to vengeance. That laugh. That evil grin and its patchwork assortment of thousands of stolen teeth. Tens of thousands. Millions, even. I've got the bastard.\n\nSoon, I will kill the Tooth Fairy." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Every night for the past 7 months at exactly 8:36 p.m. you would get a text from an unknown number that would tell you to do something small, like move table 3 in. to the right or remove 2 tissues from the box and throw them away. Tonight you learned why." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And so I sat there... 8:36 on the dot... the screen of my phone staring back at me with nothing to show...\n\nI shook my phone. Checked my signal. Considered turning it on and off. \"But what if I get the message in that time?\"\n\n\"Where is it?\"I pondered.\n\nThe apps all seemed to just stare back at me expectantly, as if unsure what I wanted from them.\n\nI looked to the rest of my room. My kitchen knife block moved three inches to the right so that it almost touched the wall and then facing towards the living room. But the message had specifically said \"Exactly three inches!!!\"So I had to make sure that it was exactly three with my measuring tape.\n\nMy TV was moved so that it now stood wedged between the corner of my north and west wall--I actually liked the change, less so the moving of my sofa to the opposite corner of the room.\n\nThere were other several little changes, like putting the wooden figure I got from Africa onto the other small round table. Or leave the curtains open. Or move everything away from the radiator.\n\nThe one I got last week simply asked me to tape a large X in red into the center of my room.\n\nOf course I was puzzled when I got the messages the first time around. Writing a message back and asking who it was gave me no response.\n\nI assumed it must have been a false number, but the messages continued regardless every night at the exact same time. Maybe I was just bemused, maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe it was just the crippling loneliness that made me take part in that ritual every night. It gave me stability somehow. Now I felt empty as I stood there waiting.\n\nMy phone buzzed--I was almost ashamed at how quickly I reached for read it.\n\n\"Sorry for the late message--open front door and stand on your sofa on the third cushion down.\"\n\nI stared at my door. Was I crazy? Was I about to open my front door just because a random number told me to do so?\n\nAnother message. \"Please hurry.\"\n\nI got up and opened the door, then went to sit on the sofa.\n\nAnother buzz.\n\n\"Other sofa.\"I began to ask questions I probably should have asked somewhere in the past seven months. How did the number know my apartment so well? Could they see me? Was there a hidden camera?\n\nI started to contemplate the absurdity of it all but had no time to delve deeper into that moment of reflection as I suddenly heard something from down the hall way.\n\nAnother buzz. \"Whatever happens--don't move.\"\n\nA streak of blazing fire burst into my home--I screamed, screamed like I never thought possible.\n\nI watched as a giant thing rose to its feet, its body a reflective shining metal that armoured it.\n\nIt wore a helmet with its visor lowered, I could not make out its face.\n\n\"Don't move,\"it said in some distorted and garbled voice while it pointed at me.\n\nI looked to the floor, some lizard creature that reached only to about half the armoured beings height lay broken and bleeding on the floor, its body crushed as it was hammered into my room wall.\n\nThe window to my living room broke as I veered and watched three more of the terrifying and portent lizardmen crawling in.\n\n\"What the *fuck* is going on?\"\n\nFive more crept in through the hall with coiling whips that whirred with lightning.\n\nThat is when I understood what the last seven months were about.\n\nThe creatures leapt at the panzered giant--the first having the reinforced space gauntlet driven right into its reptilian face, I could hear the sound of smashed cartilage and broken bone.\n\nEverything happened so fast, I didn't understand. But somehow, it all seemed connected, like a coherent design that resulted in an intricate domino cascade one after the other. It was an oddly beautiful picture. But the appreciation of it all only came after, it was just my screaming choir during it all.\n\nElectric whips thundered, knives slashed through the air, bones cracked.\n\nAt some point, the table flipped and caught four incoming probes before being shattered by an unseen fist that discharged piercing rounds of its own into lizard flesh.\n\nOne lizard charged forward and neither it, nor I, seemed to have noticed the puddle of urine I had discharged at the foot of the sofa as one lizard-man slipped to the floor for an easy kill by what sounded like a shotgun blast, splattering me in blood--I retched and vomited out onto the scene my lunch based on yesterday's instructions.\n\n\"Eggs?!\"Snarled one of the creatures in a reptilian and grinding voice. The creatures covered their noses in revulsion at what must have been repugnant stench for them--stunning them long enough for the final round of killing.\n\nThe cascade continued one after the other till there was nothing left.\n\nThe changes which took place in the last seven months were all used up in the past seven seconds--my appartment lay filled with the discarded and ravaged bodies of some sci-fi beings.\n\n\"You hurt?\"Asked the distorted voice of the panzered monster.\n\nI shook my head, unsure if the being could tell based on how much my body trembled.\n\n\"Good. All calculations according to plan. Adjustments resulted in a 78.47% increase in survival.\"\n\nI looked around the room. It was true. Everything was used up. Even the African miniature lay on the floor in half, I was unsure when that happened. But then my eyes trailed to the biggest change of them all.\n\n\"What about the big X?\"I asked. Was I insane? Who cares! Just leave my home. But the shock of it all made my curiosity take over for just a moment.\n\nThe being looked to the red X and then back to me.\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\n\"Nothing?!\"I roared incredulously. Why was I so mad? Oh yeah--I was helping stage an intergalactic brawl in my own flat.\n\n\"It was a misdirect. They thought it was something so they avoided it.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\"I asked.\n\n\"Me?\"It clarified.\n\nThe helmet hissed with the release of gas as the large gauntleted hands went to remove the top.\n\n\"The name is Meletrix,\"said a cheery looking girl underneath all of that.\n\nShe now looked around what used to be my home as if looking at it for the first time.\n\n\"Sorry about the mess,\"she said as a block of the ceiling collapsed with a bleeding corpse on it.\n\nMeletrix turned to it. \"Ah, I felt like I was missing something,\"she said.\n\n\\*\\*\\*\n\n/r/KikiWrites for more of my work, and parts 2 and 3 are below!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You adopt four teenage girls, as time passes, you begin to realize each of them represent a horseman of the apocalypse. All hell breaks loose when Famine steals Wars boyfriend." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“You bitch!” A voice roared from upstairs, followed shortly by a loud crash. I rolled my eyes and heaved myself to my feet. Here we go again.\n\n\n“What’s wrong?” I called wearily, making my way towards the stairs. Libitina was nonchalantly coming down, Bible in hand. For being the incarnation of Death, she always seemed to be reading her Bible (which she had stolen from a motel room when I wasn’t looking. Ironic, right?). \n\n\n“What’re they fighting about?” I asked her as she rounded the bannister and headed toward the kitchen.\n\n\n“Limos stole Bellona’s boyfriend or something stupid like that.” She whispered, not even looking up from her book. I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose as Morbi came tumbling down the stairs as well.\n\n\n“Bellona’s about to lose it!” she gasped, running for cover. Just then, a lamp flew across the hallway and smashed straight through the wall.\n\n\n“Your anger issues are why he left you!” Limos screamed, appearing from her room, followed \npromptly by her flying dresser.\n\n\n“And he thought the best way to get around my anger was to cheat on me?!” \n\n\nOh boy. I’m going to have to take a third mortgage.\n\n\n“Girls! Come on, calm down!” I called up to them.\n\n\n“Bellona is the one who needs to calm down!” Limos yelled back.\n\n\n“You want to reenact Troy?” Bellona continued ranting as she too appeared.\n\n\n“Please, I can’t afford to rebuild the house again!” \n\n\nSuddenly, Bellona seemed to gag and doubled over, dry-heaving. She growled audibly and waved her hand, prompting a curt scream to come from the kitchen, followed by the smoke alarm going off and Morbi appearing, the tips of her hair on fire.\n\n\n“Don’t make me sick!” Bellona yelled, charging down the stairs after her sister. \n\n\n“Why are you all against me?!” She continued, “Who else wants to take a shot at me?” her voice broke at the last and I could see some wetness in her eyes. Registering what she said, I pointed at Libitina as she came out of the kitchen too, “You stay out of this!” I ordered. The last thing we needed was somebody’s heart stopping. Libitina just shrugged, coolly. Ever calm.\n\n\n“Can you guys just work this out without destroying the neighborhood?” I pleaded.\n\n\n“Oh, I’ll work it out. I’ll work it out at her funeral!” Bellona lunged at Limos again, who did her best to evade—by using Morbi as a human shield. \n\n\n“This is hardly a fair fight!” She cried, looking for options, “Libitina? Help?” \n\n\n“No! Don’t kill your sister!”\n\n\n“Just for a second! We’ll bring her back!” Limos kept pleading.\n\n\nBellona waved her hand and the couch behind Limos burst into flames, catching Limos’s pants on fire in the process. I was starting to get annoyed about this all, too. As Limos started screaming and swatting at the flames, it seemed like all the darkness in the room congealed around the flames and snuffed them out. Libitina, the sleeping giant of the four. Putting out the fire seemed to only enrage Bellona even more, though and she started screaming again as she drew on her power. She was about to explode, and I really can’t afford to rebuild the house again. \n\n\n“Libi,” I sighed, “Just do it.” I looked over to see the slightest grin on her usually placid face as she waved a hand and all three of her sisters collapsed to the floor.\n\n\n“Bring them back in two minutes.” I ordered, trudging back over to the couch. Out of all four of them, I’m really glad Death is the obedient one." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You’re a blacksmith and a woman you’ve never seen before walks into your shop, asking for a blade. She stops by daily to check on it’s progress, and you form a bond over time, until one day she disappears. You’re afraid you’ll never see her again, until you're summoned to the castle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I arrive in the throne room hoping that the stiffness of my best leathers hide my tremble. I’ve never seen the inside of the castle before. I fear the worst, and I get it.\n\nAt the feet of the king and queen kneels the beauty I’ve come to know over the last two months. Clad in fitted ring mail armor and the black cloak of an assassin, she looks dangerous enough to steal my heart and tear it in two. Something twinges in me. \n\nShe’s bound and bleeding, but doesn’t look broken. \n\nOur eyes meet, and I feel myself sucked into those familiar, enigmatic depths. Faintly, I register that His Majesty is speaking.\n\n“This assassin wielded a blade of your design. Confirm this, and disclose all you know of her and her company.” \n\nA guard brings me a sword and I shakily accept, turning the blade over and over in my hands. This is the print of my hammer on the blade, my symbol on the pommel. This is the blood of my King on the tip.\n\nImpossible. This is not the woman I know.\n\nI glance at her again. Her eyes betray nothing, but I am losing myself in memories of her presence beside me at the forge, her proximity making the space between us feel as though it were ten times hotter than the coals. How could I forget her voice at my ear, speaking just above the roaring flames, spinning small talk into heart-to-hearts of our hopes and dreams? How could I forget her caress along my jaw and around my waist, all the more intense for the taboo of its sapphic sweetness?\n\n“Well?” His Majesty demands impatiently. “What say you?” \n\nMy throat is dry and I speak through it, hoping the crack of my voice does not betray me. “I am not certain this blade was made for her.” I swallow. “It may have been stolen from a legitimate customer. Each of my grips are made unique. Your Majesty, please allow me to check.” \n\n“Proceed.”\n\nI stumble over to the vision on the floor, kneeling down in front of her at the feet of my King and Queen. My back is to His Majesty, and he does not see me angle the blade down, slicing the blade through the rope and slamming the hilt into her open palm. He does not expect her to explode over my shoulder, and he does not expect his head to so swiftly part company with his shoulders that both the Queen and I are painted red with his blue blood.\n\nI do not expect His Majesty’s head to roll to a stop at my feet, his eyes dimming as the word “traitor” escapes his lips. I do not expect my love to swing around the Queen and take her hostage in a brutal dance, the edge of the blade teasing a line of red from her white neck. \n\nChaos rages around me as the King’s guards at once arm and disarm seeing the peril of the Queen, and I remain knelt at the foot of the throne, horror freezing my veins. \n\nThe object of my undoing crouches in front of me, dragging the Queen with her. She brushes away a tear that has rolled down my cheek with an aching gentleness, and whispers to me words that I cannot hear." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Back again.\"Death said to the little brown tabby in his doorway.\n\n\"This is what happens when one dies. That was seven?\"Niu said.\n\n\"One hundred twenty nine.\"\n\n\"I cannot count that high. It is seven. Seven lives.\"\n\nNiu began to groom herself. Death sighed and produced a coin from somewhere within his robe.\n\nNiu continued grooming for a few minutes then looked at the coin. \"I don't see why we play this game. By rights I have two more free lives.\"\n\nDeath rolled his eyes and flipped the coin high in the air. As the coin reached its zenith, Niu lept up, caught it and delivered the coin to the table face up.\n\n\"Heads. I win. I will proceed to life seven, as is my right.\"\n\n\"You cheat.\"Death said.\n\n\"Everyone knows you can't cheat death.\"Niu purred and turned to leave.\n\nDeath chuckled as the little tabby sauntered out the door. Humans may not be able to cheat death, but cats were cats." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "internet goes down. An emergency public broadcast on the television plays \"STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE.\"The radio simultaneously broadcasts the message \"EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were packing. They were all packing. Noah watched them. His father, darting into his room, then back to the living room, stuffing things in a suitcase – not folding it, not carefully putting it, just stuffing. Noah was mad. If *he* had been packing like this, that carelessly, his father and mother would have told him to stop being so messy, to do things right.\n\nWhy were grownups allowed to do stuff kids were not? It seemed very unfair.\n\nHis mother emerged from the kitchen, carrying assorted cans. Bean cans. Meat cans. Spam. Tuna. \n\n\"I don't like that tuna,\"Noah said. \"Why can't we have real food?\"\n\n\"Not now, honey,\"his mother breathed out, in a hurry. They were all in a hurry. All running around, him, his mother, his father, his sister Bea, his aunt Meredith. Even the dog, Humphrey, that his mother had named after this old black and white guy from old films because she said the dog looked like a private detective like the ones this black and white guy used to play, even the dog seemed in a hurry, following them around, in and out of rooms.\n\n\"They're saying not to trust the radio, not to even keep it on,\"his mother said to his father, as they met in the living room, walking from room to room, packing, packing, packing. \"They said to turn it off now.\"\n\n\"Well, shouldn't we keep listening? I mean, who knows, maybe they'll say something --\"\n\n\"Honey, it's not people talking on the radio. It's *them*. They're lying to us.\"\n\n\"Who's them?\"Noah asked. His parents turned at the same time to look at him.\n\n\"Who's them?\"he repeated.\n\n\"Some bad… things. That came to hurt us. But we're not going to let them, okay?\"His mother crouched to his eye-level. \"They get inside people's head and make them act and talk funny, not like themselves, do you understand?\"\n\n\"Like mind-controlling monsters?\"\n\n\"Exactly. That's why we are not listening to the people on the radio. They are lying. They are not really people, they are being controlled by these… creatures. Pretending to be people.\"\n\n\"How do we know who are the real people and who are the fake people?\"\n\n\"Well… we don't.\"From outside, a loud bang reached them, followed by a crash, and his mother turned back with a start. \"But we know we are safe, because we've only been inside the house, okay? We know they need to touch us to make us do things, and no one touched us, right?\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\"So we're gonna go to Grandpa Jerry's farm house upstate, okay? We're going to go there, and we should not talk to *anyone* on the way there, and we should not let *anyone* touch us, okay?\"\n\n\"Okay.\"\n\n\"Because if they touch you, then they get inside you and make you do bad things. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And that's why we are not listening to the people on the radio. Because they are telling us to stay inside and let our neighbors in if they ask, so that they can get inside our houses and trap us. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"They are lying. To get us.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Okay, then. Now go pack, honey.\"\n\n\"Mom?\"\n\n\"Yes, Noah?\"\n\n\"How do I know you are not lying like the people on the radio?\"\n\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Bring out the wretched Human!” The voice boomed from all angles. “Let the council decree his fate.” \n\nSteve Stevenson was dragged from his cell by two exceptionally large Moroxi. The Moroxi had an unnerving similarity to the long extinct Kangaroo from earth, but with four arms and scales. The guards sneered at Stevenson, one ripping off his patch of bravery from his uniform, before throwing him into a large circular chamber.\n\nThe chamber was pure white and so sterile it stung Steve’s eyes if he looked at one point for too long. He looked up to see five ridiculously dressed Moroxi leering down at him. They were wearing hats that looked like traffic cones.\n\nSteve shuffled forward a step, “There must be some misunder—“ \n\n“Silence!” The voice boomed again. Coming from everywhere but nowhere. “This is no trial, this is an execution!” \n\nSteve blinked away the tears forming in his eyes from the psychic assault the Moroxi Council was inflicting upon him. That damn crystal, it was always a stupid crystal. If I make it out of here alive, Steve thought, no more crystals. But deep down, he knew he had no chance.\n\n“Administer him . . . The haze of death!” The mouthless voice hissed. \n\nSteve stiffened, waiting for some searing pain to send him tumbling down into the dark abyss of death. Then, he smelled it, some of the dankest kush he ever smelled. So dank in fact, that Steve already felt a little high.\n\n“What’s so funny? You find torturous death amusing human?” The Moroxi council scoffed at him in unison.\n\nSteve coughed a couple times and giggled, “no it’s just, your hats. They’re like, funny, you know?”\n\n“No we do not know! These are our symbols of office! They distinguish us, the regal—“\n\nSteve was laughing, “stop doing that! It tickles!”\n\nThe Moroxi council looked amongst itself, “the mind-voice tickles?”\n\n“The mind-voice?” That’s what you guys named it?” Steve was still laughing, his eyes glazed and redder than the devil’s delicate appendage. “Hey, wait.” Steve stopped laughing and looked around, “do you hear that?”\n\nThe Moroxi council leaned over as one, “hear what?”\n\nSteve unleashed a massive fart that echoed throughout the chamber and doubled over laughing. “My ass-voice!” He was crying and slapping his hand on the ground. “This is some good shit!”\n\nThe Council huddled together, communing as one and instantly deciding one of them, Alparox the Younger, would delve into Steve’s mind in order to discover the miraculous manner in which he survived and even enjoyed the most lethal gas they had ever discovered. After an instant of quiet solidarity, Alparox flung his consciousness into Steve’s and began opening it like a book. The mental prowess of the Moroxi Council plain for all to see, for who could stand against a mind so mighty—\n\nAlparox was rolling on the floor laughing. His eyes already tearing up. He was pointing at the hats and nodding, “you’re right, you’re so right!” He said while tears streamed down his cheeks.\n\nThe council turned away from their fallen brother and back to Steve. Perhaps they had underestimated this Human. He was truly an impressive foe. In unison they knew what had to be done, they needed different hats. But after that, they would unleash the ultimate punishment on Steve: the dark mushrooms. Oh how they pitied him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Once a year, the best assassins meet in a secret location. Showing their best kills, everyone is surprised when they see a 70 year old man walk in." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arranged around a common, boring, run of the mill conference table sat a group of human beings who were none of those things.\n\n*They* were the uncommon elite. Those who truly shifted the tides of power in the world from the shadows.\n\nThe world's deadliest assassins.\n\nDeclan Malacroix chaired this meeting and began, as it seemed every meeting must, with a rollcall of the attendees.\n\n\"Kalbane? Wonderful to see you. Annnd Vex, the Spineflayer, I see you there. Thank you for joining us. And, uhh... is there a 'Harold' present? Do we have a newcomer this year?\"\n\n\"Oho, that's- that'd be me!\"An old man in his 70's complete with inch thick glasses and bushy white hair stepped forward at a painfully slow pace. \"Harold Lindenbueller's the name! Pleasure to meet you fine folks.\"\n\nEyes narrowed around the table. \"Are you lost, sir?\n\n\"Hmm, what's that, sonny?\"\n\nDeclan sighed and raised his voice to a comical volume while carefully enunciating each word. \"Are... you... in... the... correct... *room*, sir?\"\n\n\"Well, golly gee-whiz, I sure hope so!\"Harold chuckled. \"This is the conference meeting, ain't it?\"\n\n*\"Which* conference is it you're hoping to attend?\"Vex asked, cutting to the heart of the matter.\n\n\"Well, the uhh... mind if I take a seat here? My hip isn't too fond of standing for awfully long these days!\"Declan nodded, a small concession for an old man. Assassins weren't necessarily *monsters* by nature, they just happened to survive on the trading of human lives. \"Ohhhh, thank ya kindly! That sure does feel better. Now I've got the name of the conference somewhere here...\"\n\n\"Sir-\"\n\n\"Whoops, that's my glasses case,\"Harold said as he began spilling items from his pockets onto the table. \"Spare hearing aid batteries, denture cleaners, and- oops! My apologies if that offended any of the ladies seated here. I don't normally travel with a prophylactic anymore, but you never know who you're gonna meet at one of these conventions! Why I remember wayyyyyyy back in 1952, I attended the-\"\n\n\"SIR!\"Declan said, insistent this time.\n\n\"Oh, sorry, right, my information. Ah! Here is, I'm cordially invited to the uhhh.. the annual meeting of the League of... Flame and Shadow.\"\n\nJaws dropped around the table as he placed his invitation on the table. It was legit.\n\n\"And your profession, Harold?\"Declan asked, caution now evident in his voice.\n\n\"Why I'm an assassin, of course! 53 years in the game, no sign of slowin' down now! I tell ya, best, most fulfilling job I've ever had, haha!\"\n\nHaving heard enough, Kalbane stood and slammed the table. \"Enough! He's clearly a fraudster of some sort! Regardless of anything else he might be, an assassin is not one of them.\"\n\n\"Well, you sir are quite rude!\"Harold said, his bushy white eyebrows arched in anger. \"Why, back in *my day* we might have even called you... a reallllll asshole!\"\n\nVex laughed aloud. \"Oh, we *still* call him that! I like the new guy!\"\n\nHarold joined her laughter and clasped her hand atop the table warmly.\n\n\"Very *funny,\"* Kalbane spat. \"But I move again to eject this- this impostor from our-\"\n\nHarold cut him short. \"Lemme ask *you* something to establish *your* qualifications, Mister... Carl Baines, was it? What's the greatest weapon an assassin has as their disposal? Money? Weaponry? Influence?”\n\n\"Surprise, surprise, the answer is *obviously* the element of surprise!\"Kalbane sighed as he turned to address the others. \"Declan, do you intend to allow him to ramble on all day? How much time is he to waste as we-\"\n\nKalbane grunted as he stopped speaking. A look of shock and confusion came across his face as blood began to trickle from his mouth.\n\nTracing a line down his body, his hand stopped at the blade which pierced his back and traveled out his chest. A blade which extended from a cane...\n\nA cane held in the trembling, gnarled hand of Harold Lindenbueller.\n\n\"You need me to explain this any further to you kiddos? Or can we get on with our business?\"Harold asked as Kalbane slumped to the floor, dead. \"When every person on Earth sees you as someone’s kindly old grandpappy, when everyone assumes you pose no threat, when not a single goddamn human being takes ya seriously... *every target* is surprised.\"\n___\n___\nFeel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to read more of my stories and ongoing series." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You were born in a city where everyone has a superpower. However, while people freely use theirs (breathe fire, heal wounds or grow flowers), you seem to not be able to do anything. But one day, as you leave the city, you realize that everyone loses their power." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They called it the gilded age.\n\nNobody knew why it happened, or how, or even when, really. Everybody knew that it had happened though, and that was enough.\n\nThe powers seemed to flow from the people themselves, their personalities, hopes, dreams, and, most importantly, skills, manifesting in awesome ways.\n\nFarmers who had once been merely skilled with crops, having that special green-thumb that let them diagnose and tend to their fields with almost preternatural alacrity, found that they could mold the earth around them and channel themselves directly into the fields.\n\nAnimal whisperers who'd had special skills training beasts and wrangling wildlife found that their whispers were no longer metaphorical and had become quite literal, in-depth conversations.\n\nFiremen and police, wild with protective instincts, saw their will mold the world around them, stopping bullets and quenching flames.\n\nAcross society, these avatars and their abilities launched humanity forward at unprecedented speed.\n\nBut not everyone had such special gifts.\n\nThe world still had the soccer moms, who went through their days with that exhausted determination of doing the thankless work. The world still had the dreamers who flitted from this idea to that and never went farther with it than to mention their musings in passing on the bus. The world still had people like Mervin Drit, whose greatest accomplishments during the day were a wave to the crossing guard and a smile to the barista at the coffee-shop on his way to the warehouse where he spent his days listening to audiobooks and moving box a to point b and box b to point a.\n\nMervin was the sort of man you see a hundred times a day -- hair just a bit fuller than bald, arms just a bit stronger than weak, eyes just a bit brighter than dull -- and never remember.\n\nMervin is the guy you met, at that one college party, who you sat next to on the couch for fifteen excruciating minutes while you listened to him explain that there were actually hundreds of ways to tie shoes and that the Ian Knot was the best way, but didn't really hear anything because you were waiting desperately for Sam to show up.\n\nMervin is the guy who saw the burger wrapper on the ground in central park and put it in the trash, although nobody knows it because nobody else was there.\n\nWhile the people in the news, like that one celebrity construction worker who could lift a thousand pound beam, seemed to overflow with the new power, people like Mervin continued to sit, and talk about shoe knots, and pick up burger wrappers, and wave to crossing guards, and smile at baristas, and listen to audiobooks, and seemed to have no powers whatsoever.\n\nThen, one day, Mervin took a trip. It wasn't an exciting trip, by most measures, just a hike down an unmarked trail on the side of an unmarked highway somewhere in Appalachia to see a tree that wasn't quite threatened but wasn't quite common. \n\nAnd on that day, the world collapsed.\n\nThe genius scriptwriters ran out of ideas, the corporate gurus lost track of their superhuman mental calculations, the doctors couldn't figure out the magic touch that had once been second nature.\n\nIt turns out that all those normal people, not the ones on the news or in the boardrooms or behind the control computers, actually did have superpowers.\n\nIt turns out that the genius scriptwriters actually drew their power from the dreamers who never had the discipline to stick to one idea. It turns out that the doctors actually drew their power from the countless days their soccer moms drove them to work hard and find happiness in the toil. It turns out that the Corporate gurus needed the little smile in the morning of tying a strange shoelace knot that a strange kid named Mervin had told them about at that strange party that Sam never showed up to.\n\nIt turns out that nobody actually had any superpowers, but we all did [together](https://www.reddit.com/r/jacktheritter)." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a seemingly innocent story that could have been written for children. Then tell a different perspective on the same story that casts it in a totally different light." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His home life left a lot to be wanted. Poverty in the sixties in England was no joke, especially in a mill town where alcoholism and beating the family was the norm, rather than the exception. Pre-Thatcher UK was a different place. Working class people did not get to hang around middle class or upper class ones. It was unheard of. And even though his father was worse than most, he still would have grown up fine if he wasn't different.\n\nCrooked teeth due to malnutrition causing his jaw to be underdeveloped. His nose had been broken by his father so many times that it would never have a semblance of normalcy. His mother didn't do much. His father didn't like much of anything. Always hungry, resorting to hand-me-downs not only from his father because they were too scarce, but from his mother as well. He was bullied relentlessly. He learned to steal, lie, cheat and fight very well by then.\n\nHe was nine years old. Both his curse and his hope could be summed up in one word: *magic*. And he had found someone he could share it with. Her name was Lily. They couldn't meet in public, because she was middle class, and the scandal would cause both their parents to force them apart. But that would be fine, because once they went to Hogwarts, they could be seen together in public. And that made everything seem better.\n\nSeverus Snape got sorted into Slytherin. He heard good things about it from his mother, when she spoke of a time when she wasn't so beaten down. Lily was in Gryffindor. His hope that they could be seen together in public vanished in that moment. His hope for acceptance from his peers got destroyed by the first night, when he was beaten for being a *mongrel*, a *half-breed*. His impure blood and his poverty made him a pariah in his own house.\n\nFour Gryffindor students would hunt him down relentlessly. Still, his life on the street prepared him for it. Along with his talent to invent spells, he rarely came out wanting. But the staff were a problem. He was always blamed, because Horace Slughorn, his head of house, was surprisingly cold towards him. Many years later, he understood that being a brilliant half blood from an abusive background scared the old man, parallels to Voldemort running through his head. But as a child, he learned that he needed to make alliances with his loathsome dorm mates.\n\nIt wasn't a choice, not really. He needed protection, and they needed someone to help them with potions and were afraid of his inventiveness with curses. Some of them were actually rather decent. Avery and Rosier didn't sneer at him anymore. Sure, he had to learn a bit of their ideology so he could understand what they were talking about. He didn't really agree with it, but they offered him something he didn't know he wanted - a chance to belong.\n\nHe saw that Lily was listening to her friends. They all told her he was evil, disgusting, horrible, *dark*. And what was worse, he saw how she was attracted to James Potter, his main bully. It all came to a head when once again, Potter had humiliated him in front of the entire school. She came in and lashed out against James, but she was holding back a smile. She had found his humiliation funny. He had never felt so hurt, and so angry. So he said the most horrible thing he could think of to her. If she wouldn't learn to respect him because he was weak, then she would never feel what he would like her to feel.\n\nShe never forgave him. She forgave Potter for everything though. The fact that he was a bully, treated her possessively, was arrogant beyond belief, that was forgivable. Because he was rich, handsome, and oh so popular. Severus knew he would never be any of those. But, he could be powerful. He could have a group of allies that would be even more impressive than schoolyard popularity. He may have not believed in what they believed, but he didn't care.\n\nThey offered him everything he wanted. A higher education which he could never afford. Recognition for his brilliance. His own lab, with a couple of assistants. And really, as far as he knew, they weren't so bad. There were rumors, yes, but they were mostly a group of Slytherins, and everyone hated them and thought they were pure evil anyways. He brushed those aside.\n\nHe went to Albus Dumbledore, to try and get the Defense Against Dark Arts position, as that was an acceptable reward from his superiors. He tried to sneak into get an advantage, and while he heard some bullshit \"prophecy\"from the other side of the door, he was kicked out by the owner of the establishment in short order. He returned and told everyone the story. For some reason, the Big Man took some interest in it.\n\nHe returned to his lab, enjoying his work, the high salary, and within a few years, he could finish paying off the huge debts his father ran up. Life was fine, all in all. That is, until he heard that Lily was being targeted. He asked the Big Man to spare her, but Voldemort was unwilling to commit to anything other than saying he would try. So, he went to Dumbledore.\n\nHe became a spy. While she wasn't a friend, Lily had been the only person who had (for at a time) liked him for who he was. She became like everyone, who had just saw in him what he could offer. That meant more than she would ever understand. That was his most important memory - that at one time, someone actually cared.\n\nTeaching was a nightmare. He loved Potions, but the students had no inclination, talent or respect for the subject. He had to be vicious in order to establish ground rules in the classroom. Some people remembered him as a beaten down runt. He had to disabuse them of that notion.\n\nAnd then she died.\n\n...\n\nThe next few years were a blur. Dumbledore and he knew that Voldemort would return. He learned to relax a bit with his sixth and seventh year students, who had some talent and respect for his subjects, but he could not drop his vicious monster persona. He favored the sons of his \"comrades\", and despite his disgust with the fact, didn't nurture the muggle-borns. He played up his loathing of Gryffindors. All to prepare for Voldemort's inevitable return.\n\nAnd then came Harry Potter. No doubt rich and pampered like his parents were. A celebrity for all the wrong reasons - he stole the credit for his mother's sacrifice. And he looked just like James. When he first looked at the boy, he saw him looking back and wincing. The same instinctive hatred his father felt, no doubt. But he decided to give him one chance. If he had read to first chapter of the book, he'd know the answers. Just like Lily did. Perhaps he was her son even if he didn't look it except for his eyes. Of course, he didn't. James and his lazy arrogance all over again.\n\nBut those eyes haunted him. Every bad thing that happened in his life could be summed up with those eyes. And just like with Lily, all semblance of emotional control was lost whenever he looked at them. And protecting that little liar, who broke the rules over and again, lied (badly) to cover it up, and had his friends lie for him... and physically assault him for trying to defend the little shit. With the protection of everyone else in the staff, naturally. Of course they would. It was James Potter all over again.\n\nAnd then, Dumbledore decided to reward the little idiot for his rule breaking. By humiliating Slytherin again. After all those years making Slytherin work together and understand that a single person couldn't beat them united, the headmaster took that away. His house wouldn't recover from this lesson in years to come.\n\nThings got worse, as defense teacher after defense teacher were more incompetent, stupid, or plainly risked the students' lives (Remus Lupin would never give information about Sirius Black, no matter if he could protect the students by doing so). He returned to spying. Of course by then, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin did all they could with their bountiful spare time to make him a pariah in the Order. Really, to expect them to change was too much.\n\nAnd then Dumbledore went and got himself killed. He tried to save him, but only ended up extending his life. The vicious bastard of a headmaster commanded him to become a murderer. And excused Harry bloody Potter for trying to murder another student, because really, the rules were beneath a Potter. Just a slap on the wrist for him. Some things never change when a Gryffindor tries to murder a Slytherin. No doubt in a few years he would brag about his wonderful \"prank\".\n\nAnd then he became a killer. And the most hated man in the world. All to get a chance to protect the children of the school - because if he wouldn't be running the glorified concentration camp the school had become, it would have been Bellatrix and it would become a charnel house. He saved them from the worst of it, and managed to help Potter and his friends from behind the scenes. Getting them the sword, keeping the Death Eaters off their backs, all he could with the information he got from Phineas.\n\nAnd then, just as he had a chance to complete his mission, get the final bit of information to the ungrateful brat, the rest of the staff decided to revolt. He didn't fight back. He just protected himself and ran. He'd find another chance to get Potter the final piece to Voldemort's fall.\n\nThen, as he had guessed would happen, he finally died. As he got the infomation to Harry, he mused about his life. He failed to protect Lily. He failed to protect her son, who had to die. He never moved out of his home. All of his relationships were disasters, as he could not tell anyone the most important things about his life. He had no family. No friends. His last one, Charity, had begged him to help and he couldn't. He was the most hated man in the world. He would be remembered in history as the murderer of Albus Dumbledore. But finally, he didn't need to prove anything to anyone. It wasn't a happy end. But at least it was an end.\n\n-------------\n\nAnd that is the Harry Potter story, from the perspective of Severus Snape." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "All of the \"#1 Dad\"mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": ". #1 Dad. A present my wife bought me before our child was born. He’s six now, and every morning we have breakfast in the nook of our kitchen. He likes toast, I like eggs. He drinks orange juice, and I drink coffee. \n\nI looked at the mug, reflecting on the memory as I unloaded the dishwasher. So many days with such a valuable piece of glass. Weird how we get so attached to basically nothing. I looked at the faded coffee stains in the bottom of the cup and placed it in the cupboard, looking forward to my son and i’s next breakfast. \n\nOn Saturday morning, my wife made eggs and toast for us. I placed my son’s plate and his toast down on the table, making sure it was pushed up enough not to fall, but still in his reach. He wanted jam, and I brought it with my eggs. Halfway through breakfast, I realized I forgot to pour my coffee. I contemplated for a second, and decided to stay and eat with him. \n\nAfter I cleaned the table, I went to grab my mug from the cupboard. I pulled the white mug forward, and noticed an extra black speck on the side. I rotated it slightly to get a better grip on the handle, when I noticed the long string of numbers lining the outside and replacing the 1 in #1 Dad. Sensing a prank, I called my wife in, annoyed that she defaced my mug. It was likely that she had bought another, played the joke, and would readily replace it after. But I wanted *this* mug, not a new one. \n\nShe was confused to say the least. The number replacing 1 was large enough to ruin my self esteem, displacing the mug’s novelty with an atmosphere of disappointment. I placed it back on the counter and my wife told me to forget it, we’ll get a new one. She really didn’t have a replacement. It wasn’t a joke. That was my ranking. In the entire world, my son could have THAT many better fathers. Better people raising him to be a better person. I was damaged by the idea that something once deeply cherished was now a reminder of my failures and incompetence. \n\nI continued about my day, placing the mug in the back of my mind. There are millions like it manufactured, it’s replaceable. After my chore of mowing, I came in from the garage for a drink and noticed a small trail of blood. Becoming increasingly concerned, I followed it to my son’s room. \n\nI discovered him holding his little foot in one hand, crying, and holding part of my wife’s crystal rose in the other. I went to our bedroom and found the rest shattered, a large piece of crystal lying on the floor. I quickly went back to his room, carried him to the tub, and placed his foot in warm water to clean it. He was sobbing, fervently apologizing for breaking the rose and making a mess. Sobbing about the blood on the floor, and ruining mom’s rose on accident. I laughed, slightly, and he became frustrated. He asked me why I wasn’t taking him seriously. I said to him: \n\n“You matter more than a rose! You didn’t ruin it. You just changed it. It’ll be okay. We would rather have you safe and happy than anything else in the world.” \n\nHe stopped crying as I bandaged his foot. In a few days, it healed, and we did our best to piece the rose back together for my wife. The next Saturday, I placed my son’s plate and his toast down on the table, making sure it was pushed up enough not to fall, but still in his reach. He wanted jam, and I brought it with my eggs. As soon as I sat down, I realized I had forgotten my coffee. \n\nI stood back up, walked toward the cupboard, and saw my mug facing upside down and backward on the first shelf. I decided just to toss it and buy a replacement. When I looked at it one more time, it had crudely placed duct tape on the front, almost covering all the black numbers. On the tape, in dark green Sharpie, was written: \n\n“# Onǝ Dad”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "As a kid, you jokingly say, \"If I had a nickel for every person I've killed, I'd be rich!\"It's is now your 21st birthday, and you receive a mysterious bank key in the mail. The vault it opens contains $550,000... In nickels." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I considered the pile of nickels. Stacks and stacks and stacks, lined neatly in precariously tall rows. \n\n\"And it's...?\"\n\nThe bank manager smiled wanly. \"$550,000. Sir, I'm not clear on *why* you have so many nickels, but hording coins of any denomination does create shortages. I must presume that additional nickels have been minted simply to cover for this...\"\n\n\"But how many is it?\"I asked, still hardly comprehending. \n\n\"Nickels? It's eleven million. I think you can see how that might represent a significant hardship for the money lending industry, as there are generally less than a hundred million in circulation at any one time.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"I need to leave this here. I don't...\"I backed away from the vault. \n\n\"We can convert it for you, sir,\"said the bank manager. \"But it will take some time and there will be forms to fill out. You may receive an inquiry from the National Reserve regarding how you came to possess so many nickels.\"\n\n\"Okay,\"I said, half-awake, half in a dream. \"I'll come back.\"\n\n*Nickels. Nickels. Nickels.*\n\nWhy did I have a vault full of nickels? Millions of nickels?\n\nOn my 21st birthday I had received an envelope in the mail. It contained a vault key and the name of a nearby bank. I assumed it was a joke. But the money was real. The *nickels* were real.\n\nI stood at the bus stop, unsure where to go or what to do. How could I trace the envelope? If I alerted the government would they help me find whoever sent the key? And would I be able to keep any of the money?\n\n\"You earned it, you know.\"\n\nI continued to stand, staring blankly at the road. I didn't assume they were speaking to me.\n\n\"John? It's *your* money. You earned it, fair and square.\"\n\nThe mention of my name made me turn. An older man in a white cotton suit sat on the bench behind me.\n\n\"Excuse me?\"I said. \"Are you talking to me?\"\n\nOnly as I said it did I finally notice that we were the only two people at the bus top. The man was gracious enough to ignore the question.\n\n\"The money, John. Don't give it away. It's yours. Earned coin-by-coin.\"\n\nI took a step closer. The man's face was obscured by a line of shadow cast off the brim of his panama hat. \"Do I know you?\"\n\n\"You may not remember me John, it's been a very long time. We met when you were younger. We made a deal. You set the terms for your employment. Do you remember?\"\n\n\"I...\"The man *did* seem familiar, but only in the vaguest of ways. \"No. We met when I was a kid and you...what? Hired me?\"\n\n\"In a manner of speaking,\"said the man, white teeth flashing in a brief smile. \"You asked for a nickel a head. That was how you planned to make your fortune, and now look. Your fortune is made.\"\n\n\"*A nickel a head*?\"I began to feel deeply uneasy, not because the man was a stranger, but because he felt increasingly familiar with every moment. \"What does that mean?\"\n\n\"I think maybe you were boasting John, but you said - said loudly - that if you had a nickel for everyone you killed, you'd be rich. And that is a very good rate, John. On this and any other world. So I hired you. We shook hands and I promised to make payment on your 21st birthday.\"\n\nLike a dying thunderstorm, the veils in my mind began to pull back, the static subsiding. I remembered, still vaguely, a birthday party and laughter and saying funny things and an old man in a fine white suit laughing with me and shaking my hand. Some other boy's grandfather I had assumed. Someone who belonged there, stopping to make a boy feel heard. But the man on the bench was no older than the man at the party. Same suit. Same panama hat.\n\n\"I've never killed anyone,\"I said. \"Not a one.\"\n\n\"Eleven million, exact,\"said the old man. \"I've kept a ledger. I like things by the book.\"\n\n\"I haven't though,\"I said, feeling strangely desperate. Why? Why should I feel uneasy? If I had killed even *one* person wouldn't I be in jail?\n\n\"Oh,\"said the man, as if suddenly understanding my confusion. \"Not here. Not on *Earth*. Not during the *day*.\"\n\n\"What does that mean? Where else...?\"\n\n\"You're a well-traveled man,\"said the old man. \"Or a well-traveled boy, I suppose. Either way, you have gone far and done much, even if you don't quite recall it. Though, I think if you tried, you might recall a part of it.\"\n\n\"I don't have any idea what you're...\"\n\n\"Think to the last one, then,\"said the old man. \"You ought remember that at least. It wasn't that long ago. You went to a world of thin men and women, almost as if the people of your world had been pulled a bit too tightly, with long, spidery fingers and red skin. Thin, red warriors. Think of that. Picture that. And remember yourself among them, with a glowing sword and blood in your mouth, cutting and cutting and *cutting*. Wild, screaming. A berserker. Hacking flesh until there was none left to oppose you. Does that ring with you?\"\n\nIt did. \n\n\"That was a dream. That was a dream.\"I remembered waking in wet, knotted sheets. Gloria said I had thrashed so much she'd had to sleep on the couch.\n\n\"That was your *work*,\"said the old man. \"You do it well. That's why I'm here, actually. I told you I would pay you at your 21st birthday. That's when the terms of our original deal expired. A nickel a head. I think you're worth far more than that, dear John. I would like to re-open negotiations. How would you feel about continuing your service?\"\n\nThis couldn't be real. That's what I told myself. Another dream. A delusion. The nickels. The man. None of it *could* be real. \n\nBut if that were true...then where would the harm be?\n\n\"I'm listening...\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story about a supervillian who is unspeakably more powerful than anyone else on his planet, but is content with using it for small things like cutting in line or getting free extra servings." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*Here lies the most dangerous man in the world.*\n\nArthur stared at his own gravestone, a bouquet of flowers in hand. His grave was nothing like the others. While everyone else had a single slab of rock, his was a towering black pillar. Golden words of all the laws he had broken were carved into it from top to bottom and on every side.\n\nThe second he had died and they had lowered what they assumed to be his body into the dirt, Grindstone Cemetery became less a cemetery and more a tourist attraction. People flocked from the far ends of the world to see the man who had singlehandedly brought down the most powerful nation on Earth. And what did their awe or terror look like? Dog-eared selfies. Candid Instagram photos. And the worse yet, obscene poses desecrating his memory.\n\nNot that he cared.\n\n\"Hey,\"some college kid whispered to his friends. \"The guards are gone.\"\n\n\"Alright, quick do it,\"his friend replied.\n\nArthur sighed and heard the distinct noise of a zipper going down and then the splash of water. He wondered if that kid thought he was the only one *bold* enough to ever think of such a thing. The water stopped with the sound of laughter. He quickly zipped back up.\n\nWith a single snap of his fingers, Arthur gave the zipper a little push and a yelp resounded from behind his grave followed by more of his friend's stupid laughter.\n\n\"It's caught in the zipper!\"\n\n\"What the hell Brady? What are you, two?\"\n\nArthur allowed himself his own laugh. He would need it today. He snapped a single flower off his bouquet and dropped it on the ground. Then, he left to his real destination.\n\n---\n\nIt was at the opposite end of the cemetery, tucked away in a little corner. Originally, his grave had been right here too, but then the owners got greedy and put him front and center. The stone slab read:\n\n*Here lies Elizabeth Marone, a girl taken too soon. 2000 - 2014.*\n\nHe clenched his fists. It never got any easier. He always thought that it would, but it never did. His throat dried so that every breath came raspy and burning. His lungs constricted so he could only breathe in stuttered breaths. And at last, he dropped his flowers.\n\nHe hated the words on her grave. Too soon was her having an iPhone at 13. Too soon was her first boyfriend in the 5th grade. This wasn't *too soon*, it was a travesty to the human race, God's laughing voice resounding from the heavens itself!\n\nWith a single twitch of a finger, the dust on the grave blew away.\n\nSometimes, he still felt the vibrations from when she would call him to pick her up after school. He didn't even have a phone anymore but he felt them.\n\n\"Daddy, are you here, yet?\"she would ask.\n\n\"No, baby,\"he would reply. \"I'm in traffic,\"he said as he always would.\n\n\"Well let me tell you...\"and she would launch into the story of her day, exaggerated to the point of fiction. There would no longer be any room for his words, not until she finished her story.\n\nSometimes, he would put put the phone down to send a quick e-mail.\n\nHis nails dug into his palms until blood splurted out, joining the tears pouring onto the grounds. Why would he do that? Why the fuck would he do that?\n\nWhen Elizabeth Marone first got admitted to the hospital, she had fantastic stories of all the ghosts wandering the halls. Arthur had took that as a good sign. If she could afford to have such energy and imagination, she would certainly be alright. But he soon found that her stories were for his benefit. They always have been.\n\nCreutzfeldt–Jakob disease, they called it, or the Human Mad Cow. It was a neurodegenerative disease that within a year, left Elizabeth struggling to find the words for her stories. She would look at her dad, her eyes misty and her mouth making the motions, but no words would come out. The stories were in her head, he knew they were, but she had no way to tell them.\n\n\"I'm sorry Mr. Marone, we currently don't have a cure. If you would like to discuss options...\"\n\n\"I don't want to talk about your fucking options!\"Arthur had screamed at the doctor. \"Why don't you have a god damn cure?\"\n\n\"Well sir, this is just too rare of a disease...\"\n\nAnd in that moment, The Mad King was born. It was the name he gave to the tiny voice in his head that had always asked him to do more with his powers. Stop a robbery. Rescue some people from a burning building. Prevent a car crash. He only listened to it sometimes as he didn't want his powers interfering with his daughter's normal life, but now it sang a different tune--save Elizabeth, no matter what.\n\n\"Too rare you say?\"he had responded, laughing just like The Mad King would laugh. \"Too fucking rare you say?\"\n\nBut the rest was simply history--the kidnapping of the President, the near collapse of America, the nuclear missiles trained at his head--simply history. In the end, they had found a cure, but not in time. Of course, in time to save the President of the United States, but not his daughter.\n\nAnd when his daughter died, so did The Mad King.\n\nHe could do it again too--take everything. Anytime he wanted. He knew that everyday, his powers were growing stronger.\n\nBut what would be the point?\n\n---\n\n---\n\n/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more!\n\n " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The voices.\n\nThe voices you hear when you unlock a new skill was wonderful. When you heard them, you could do something new.\n\nThere was the basic voice, for things most people got when they were young: \"walking\"\"reading\"\"cooking\". There was the mundane voice, for average adult skills: \"driving\"\"swimming\"\"whistling\". There's was the advanced voice, that usually meant something you could do as a vocation: \"computer programing\"\"electrician\"\"engineering\".... And then there was the legendary voice.\n\nThe legendary voice was rare. Only a few thousand people had legendary skills at a time. And rarely would anyone have the same skill at the same time. They were powerful skills. They made superheroes, and super villains. Many times the skills weren't easily defined by the name, and it could take years to figure out what it meant.\n\nFor instance, a few years ago, awoman got the skill, \"disappear\". She spent weeks researching until she found out it meant she could just... Not be seen. She didn't turn invisible. No, she would just not be noticed, even if you were looking right at her. Or there was that guy, Frank, that got, \"lift\". It took him months to figure out it was telekinesis.\n\nAnyway, I received a new skill a few months ago, and it was the legendary voice. That is cool, but I had no clue what it meant.\n\nWhen I heard the voice, I was ecstatic! This would give me a reason to get out, meet people, and be something good for the world again.... If my old bones could take it... Whatever it was.\n\nSadly, I never got the chance. Within seconds of hearing the voice, it went black. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't even feel. \"What a cruel twist of fate\"I thought as the world faded away.... I become a legend, as I am old, older than anyone else, and dying. I would never get to use my skill, heck, I would never even know what it meant....\n\nAnd then...\n\nLight. I was wet, coughing up fluids, and screaming at the top of my lungs from the shock. I couldn't focus. I couldn't speak, it was as if my body had degraded to that of an infant. I was hungry, and gasping for air. I realized I was upside down. I looked around, as my eyes tried to focus, and I saw a giant being, dressed in white, covered in blood, and other fluids. He wore a mask, obscurung his identity (not that I would have known this demon anyway). He was HUGE. His forearm was as big as my entire body.\n\nHe wiped me off, wrapped me in something so I couldn't resist, and handed me to another giant. This one was female. She was beautiful. She held me close to her breast, and I felt warmth.\n\nPerhaps this wasn't hell.\n\nAfter I calmed down, and got my bearings, I looked up at her, and told me new mother what my new skill was:\n\n \"continue\"." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "For centuries your family has passed down an old leather bag that provides the holder with an object that would be helpful in the particular situation the holder is in. You are getting on a bus and instead of giving you a bus ticket or money, it gives you a handgun." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So there I was, getting onto the bus, when I reached into the bag. Instead of the rattle of the exact loose change I needed for my fair, I felt something heavy. I could feel a handle of sorts. When I wrapped my hand around it, my finger felt what was unmistakably a trigger. My whole body went rigid. I could feel the blood rush from my face. I felt sick. Why was the giving bag giving me a gun? I stood, frozen on the spot for what felt like ages, the bus driver clearly getting irate with the living statue giving him a 1000 yard stare.\"\n\"I let go, pulling my hand out and tried again. Same result. I must have tried 4 or 5 times when I heard the alarms behind me. 3 men ran out of the jewellery store and onto the bus. They shoved me down to the floor and one held a knife at the face of the driver, screaming at him to drive. I pulled my hand out of the giving bag and shuffled back as far from the men as I could. The bus driver closed the doors and pulled quickly away, bashing a couple cars in his haste. One of the men grabbed a young woman on a front seat and held a hammer above her head, yelling at the driver to go faster.\"\n\"I got to my feet. No idea how I managed that as the bus was swaying quite violently. I made up my mind, I reached into the bag and pulled out the gun. Now, American readers might not find this too extraordinary, but I live in England. The only people who have guns over here are farmers, sport hunters, history nerds and some of the police. Most of the people over here have never seen a handgun in person, let alone a man wielding one on the number 17 bus in Coventry.\"\n\"So I pointed the gun at the man holding the woman and found that I wasn't able to say anything. I cleared my throat, peed a little, and all I was able to say was \"d'wan'le'er'go\", It was a garbled mess of a request. So I tried again. \"Do you wanna let her go?\"I managed. All 3 turned and saw me, pointing the gun at their faces. There was a bit of a stand off, I was ready to back down when the people sat behind me cheered me on. With newly found vigour, I restated my request. \"Let her go!\"Much more firm that time. The dude with the hammer started to bring it down at speed towards the poor girls head. So I fired.\"\n\"The other two stood in silent shock as his body fell down. Everyone's ears were ringing. Mine felt like they were bleeding. I couldn't even hear the girl scream as she scrambled past me to the back. There was a lot of blood. So much blood. With adrenaline filling me with bravado I turned to point the gun on the other two. The nearest went to put down his weapon, but it was only a ruse, he charged me like a rugby player. His chest level with the ground as he started to cover the short distance. I pointed the gun down at his exposed back. The two shots I put there soon stopped him.\"\n\"With his two comrades down, one missing a chunk of his head, the other lay motionless at my feet gurgling and moaning, the third man dropped the knife. He turned and started scrambling at the closed door. The bus driver stopped and let it open. He ran faster than anyone I've seen run before.\"\n\"And that's when you arrived, Officer. Anyone on the bus will say the same as to what happened. Plus, I'm pretty sure there's CCTV on there too. I would give you the gun but it did the usual thing and turned to dust. Everything from the giving bag eventually turns to dust. Something turn quicker than others. The handcuffs really aren't necessary, Officer.\" \n \n*Edit to try to clear up the whole 'shot in the back issue.'" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The reason Aliens can't contact humans is because they live in a time frame that goes at the speed of light. They are born, breath, move, fly, and think in less than a microsecond. We appear to be standing still to them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Always the effigies, in every generation, as our civilizations rise and turn to dust. Ten million years passed before we understood that they were slowly moving, these beautiful pale statues that arose from nature and not art. One was slowly closing his fist, and in ten thousand years, he would strike his brother. Another was crushing berries on a board, and across countless millennia, he would pick up a brush, press it into the board, and paint a broad red stroke across a canvas. \n\nEven then, we didn't think of them as alive. The effigies were extensions of the natural world, like stars or forests. These sublime, terrible acts were some emergent behavior of forces unknown to us. \n\nSome of us believed that they might be self aware. We tried creating messages for them, but any medium would decay before an effigy would blink her eyes or finally reach up and brush the solitary stray hair from her nose. We constructed transmission towers before we realized they didn't possess a similar technology and would never hear us. We spoke directly into their ears, and must have sounded like insects buzzing or the snap of static electricity.\n\nOne of us invented a weapon that moved so slowly it would take generations to reach its target. It was a kind of frozen light, hot to the touch, creeping through the air. Some of us protested while others praised the innovation, but all of us were transfixed. Many spent their lives watching the creep of that weapon, growing old and dying before it had advanced a millimeter.\n\nFinally, the weapon reached its target. The effigy suddenly seemed to move much more quickly, his face twisting as the flames wrapped around him at near-light speed. In twenty years he was gone, the ash that was his form suspended in the light.\n\nWhat followed was a war for the world of the effigies, fought between those who wanted to subjugate them and those who saw it as a great injustice. We fought for countless generations, so fiercely that the subluminal world was rearranged. The effigies must have thought we were gods as our voices filled whirlwinds, parted seas and struck dead their kind at random.\n\nThe truce was uneasy, but has held for all this time. Our families will choose effigies to represent them, as reminders of the peace, almost as ancestral gods. My family pays respects at the table of Marianne, who has been sitting in this cafe since time immemorial. When breakfast arrived, we observed a thousand years of her quiet smile, her hand imperceptibly lowering her book and picking up a tiny metal jug of milk. A thousand years of her hand raising that jug, and the milk pouring into a cup of coffee in a thin white stream. A millennium of the spoon turning around the cup, like a slow clock.\n\nIn my generation, the cup is almost to her lips. Every day of my life, I have come here to say hello to her, and to see if I can perceive even the slightest change. Sometimes I come with my grandmother, who is very old. \n\n\"She is like a work of art to me,\"my grandmother says. \"Our civilization will fall before the sun sets and she returns home. But before you die, you will see her taste the coffee. And when she does, the satisfaction will spread across her face in a hundred million tiny gestures of pleasure. That is when you will know, truly, what Marianne is about. You will see in her face the substance of her life, which will probably only occur to her dimly, then vanish as surely as we will vanish. May you know the secret of Marianne, and carry it with you all of your long days.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a short story where the first sentence is 20 words, the second is 19, and so on until the story ends with one word." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lacey's first visit to the vet was a simple check-up, and she left wagging her tail with joy, chewing treats.\n \nWe walked that afternoon on the south trail, sun shining on us, up beat music playing from my phone.\n \nLacey was walking a little slower than usual, but I assumed it was her age catching up.\n \nThe next day, her vet called me to tell me it was a little more than age.\n \nAt Lacey's second visit, the vet said she would need an operation to remove the tumor.\n \nA month passed before that day, and Lacey could only walk half our usual distance.\n \nLacey didn't eat much either, due to the medications her vet prescribed every day.\n \nShe would lay at my feet and follow me as much as possible.\n \nShe couldn't hop onto my bed to sleep next to me anymore.\n \nThe long awaited day finally came when she had the operation.\n \nThe doctor promised me he'd take good care of her.\n \nHer third and final vet visit was an overnight.\n \nLacey came back home to me the next day.\n \nShe cried and refused to eat or drink.\n \nI hugged her tight, until she slept.\n \nI just watched her for hours.\n \nWhispering and petting her fur.\n \nHer breathing slowed down.\n \nLicking my hand.\n \nOnce more.\n \nGoodbye. \n \n \n \nEdit 4: Shortened version of past 3 edits... Thank you guys so much for the awards! Y'all are amazing! ♥️ And thank all the people with nice things to say about this post. You've made my day! " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Since your earliest memories, everyone has had a 0 above their head, but when you told people, no one believed you. One cold winter day, you’re at a restaurant and your server has a 1 over their head. You can’t see your own number, but they tell you you have a 3." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“A freak, huh?”\n\n“I beg your pardon?” I blinked in confusion. \n\nMy server, Julia by her name tag, smiled and pointed above her head. Her finger nearly prodded the floating number one that was there, the one that she and no one else in this lonely restaurant could see. \n\n“By choice or by circumstance?” She asked, as if I had any idea what she was taking about. \n\n“I’m sorry, miss,” I said, offering a polite smile of my own. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”\n\n“Your frequency, of course,” it was her turn to look confused. “The three above your head.”\n\nA three? Above my...I looked around the restaurant at the sea of zeroes floating around. And the back to the one above Julia’s head. \n\n“So, are you on this frequency by choice or by circumstance?” Julia asked again. Her eyebrows drew together in concern. “Don’t tell me...you don’t know anything, do you?”\n\n“All my life I have seen zeroes above everyone’s head,” I said in a whisper. It was the first time I had ever acknowledged it out loud and I suddenly felt self conscious about the possibility of being overheard. “You are the first person I’ve ever met that has a different number above their head.”\n\n“Oh boy, tell you what, I get off in an hour. Wait for me and I’ll explain things best I can!” Julia said enthusiastically. \n\nI ate my dinner in silent anticipation, glancing up at the clock every few minutes. \n\nAt ten o’clock, Julia slid into the seat across from me. She pulled her hair out of the tight ponytail and let it fall messily past her shoulders. \n\n“Your name?” She asked, as we both realized I hadn’t told her. \n\n“Ben Anderson,” I told her. \n\n“Ben, what do you know about the world?” Julia asked, leaning forwards on her elbows. \n\n“Um, that it’s round and floating in space,” I said hesitantly, “It has seven continents...”\n\n“And five frequencies,” Julia added. \n\n“You keep saying that word, what do you mean? Like radio frequencies?” \n\n“Kinda,” Julia said, making a face. She reached for a napkin and pulled a pen out of her apron. \n\nShe drew a pyramid with five sections and labeled them four to zero, with zero at the bottom. \n\n“Look, most people are stuck here in zero,” she pointed to the bottom tier. “On zero, you have three types of colour cones in your eyes, five senses, and strict rules of gravity and such. If you’re stuck on zero, then you have no idea there are even other frequencies out there.”\n\n“Wait, so are you telling me that on other frequencies people don’t have to obey the laws of physics?” I said skeptically. “Like I could leap a tall building in a single bound?”\n\n“Yeah, that’s frequency two,” Julia said, ignoring the sarcasm in my voice. \n\n“Frequency one, where I’m from, is where people have seven colour cones, heightened senses of smell and hearing, as well as the senses plath and vace.”\n\n“What and what?”\n\n“Plath is a feeling of direction,” Julia explained,” And vace is like...how should I explain it...You know in the matrix, when Neo dodges the bullets? It’s like your vision is in slow motion while you or other things are moving fast.”\n\n“You’re shitting me...”\n\n“Cross my heart,” Julia winked. “I haven’t been to the other frequencies, but I hear frequency two is where physics gets really wild and three has physic powers like telekinesis!”\n\n“What about four? Do people become gods or something?” I half joked. \n\n“No one calls frequency four, “four,” they call it “aevum,” and to be honest, no one really knows if it actually exists,” Julia said in a hushed voice. “They say, that to be in aevum is to be one with god.”\n\n“So then, why are you in zero if it’s the lamest of all these frequencies?”\n\n“Oh, the view is easier on the eyes here,” Julia said, “you wouldn’t believe how many colours actually clash when you see through seven colour cones. I don’t know how shrimp manage it with sixteen.”\n\n“How do you move from one frequency to the next?”\n\n“There’s the question I’ve been waiting for,” Julia grinned. She slammed both hands on the table as she stood up. \n\n“Follow me,” she said gleefully. \n\nJulia lead me outside, where the parking lot was now mostly empty. \n\n“Give me your hand,” Julia instructed. “One thing about shifting frequencies, is that you need a partner and a sense of plath.”\n\n“I still don’t know what plath is!” I said, taking Julia’s hand. \n\n“Don’t worry, you’ll feel it soon enough!” Julia laughed. “The frequency you’re born in determines how many you can visit. But you can also visit wherever your travelling partner can.”\n\n“So since I’m a three...”\n\n“We can go almost anywhere!” Julia said. “Where do you want to go first?”\n\n“Well...” I said slowly, feeling excitement in me growing. “Let’s fuck up some physics!”\n\n——————————————————————————————————-\n\n(On mobile so I dunno how this looks)\n\nPart [2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/eh18e9/wp_since_your_earliest_memories_everyone_has_had/fcii1m3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)\nPart [3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/eh18e9/wp_since_your_earliest_memories_everyone_has_had/fcjjbh4/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)\nPart [4](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/eh18e9/wp_since_your_earliest_memories_everyone_has_had/fcmb8im/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)\nPart [5](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/eh18e9/wp_since_your_earliest_memories_everyone_has_had/fdxh7uq/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Suddenly, you hear alarms go off in the bank as a group of masked men start shouting at everyone to get on the ground. You grip your backpack filled with money tighter and hope they don't learn you already robbed this place blind with no one noticing." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You've got to me *kidding* me.\n\nI was almost out. It was almost done, and no one was the wiser. It had just been too simple. I had slipped into the bank with the surge of afternoon customers. It had taken me *weeks* to collect all of the access codes and passwords I would need, but, well...I don't want to give away *all* my secrets, but I'll just say the backpack slung casually over one shoulder was *far* heavier than it was when I walked in.\n\nI had been moving towards the goddamn *door*. That's how close I was to getting out. And then I had seen them coming. A group of four men, dressed in black sweatshirts and holding shotguns.\n\nThere was nothing for it. I crowded into the huddled, fearful mass with the rest of the customers and tried to keep a low profile while the artless thugs 'robbed' the bank.\n\nOr, they tried to, anyway.\n\n\"I...I just don't undertand!\"One of the clerks cried, eyeliner already smearing down her face. I couldn't help but feel a little bad for her. She hadn't been prepared to deal with a gun barrel to the face when she picked out her makeup that morning. \"There's nothing here!\"\n\n\"Bullshit!\"The man in front of her roared, jabbing his gun forward. \"Stop lying to me and just give me the drawer!\"She screamed, jerking her arms reflexively to cover her head, and her friend jumped in.\n\n\"She's not lying! See?\"The second clerk seemed to be handling the stress better, and pulled the drawer free from the counter. Sure enough, the only thing that remained was a single roll of pennies.\n\nWhy would I waste my time on pennies? The thugs could *have* the worthless bits of copper and zinc.\n\nThe masked man bit off another profanity-laced phrase, gritting his teeth. I watched with not a little bit of satisfaction, twirling the phone in my pocket.\n\nThey were clearly confused now, looking around as if they could make the cash appear if they just *wanted* it enough. The clerks looked at each other in bewilderment, just as confused.\n\nServed them right. My heist was *beautiful*. How dare these brutes interfere? And they'd probably get away, too.\n\nThe thought stung at me. That wasn't *right*. There should be some justice in this world, and thieves with no class like this deserved to be *caught*.\n\nI'd see what I could do.\n\nApparently, I had been glaring my hate at them for a few moments too long, though. I realized my mistake when the hardened butt of a stock caught me on the side of the head. \n\nWell, I didn't see *him*. Crap.\n\n\"What's your *problem*, huh?\"The new thief said, grinning. \"Got something to say?\"The blow sent me staggering into his friend, who in turn pushed me away in revulsion. \n\nIt had been enough, though.\n\nThe bag was heavy on my back, but I resisted the urge to touch it. They couldn't know. I couldn't let them suspect.\n\nAs long as they thought I was a coward, that I was too small and unimportant to give a second glance, they wouldn't think twice about someone with a backpack. I was just a student, or someone on the way home from work. I needed to stay that way.\n\n\"...'s nothing.\"I muttered, wiping a spot of blood away from my mouth where they'd cut my lip. \"Sorry.\"\n\nThe two thugs grinned. \"Yeah, that's about right. Seems like-\"\n\nI'd never know what he was intending to say to me next. From the distance, I could hear the sound of sirens weaving their way through the town towards us, and from the way the thieves tighened up, I knew they had heard too.\n\nThe one with the shotgun in the clerk's face swore again. He really did have quite the vocabulary.\n\n\"God dammit. All right. Nobody move!\"He waved the gun across the rest of us one last time, as if in warning, then motioned to his crew. They sprang out the door and vanished into a nearby van.\n\nBy the time the police cars turned the corner, lights and sirens blaring, the thieves were long gone.\n\nI took advantage of the confusion to slip into the back room, and vanish *myself* into the forest behind. No need to hang around for the rest of the show with a bag of stolen cash on my shoulder, after all.\n\nI wondered if it had worked.\n\nI'd miss my phone. I had just gotten it the week before. It was a burner, of course, nothing that could be traced to me. But it had a GPS, and 911 would be *very* interested to listen in on the conversation that was being called in to them right now.\n\nHow long would it be before that brute realized he had a new phone tucked into the cargo pocket on his pants, do you suppose?\n\n\n(/r/inorai) " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are Dog to which dyslexic people sometimes address their prayers. You do your best to help because you're a good boy, but alas, you are a dog." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dyslexia is a bitch. Life gives you melons, and you can't exactly make melonade. Satan swings by your home on Christmas-- don't ask what the *bad* kids get when he tumbles down their chimney, black as the ash and coal that rides with him. Oh, and Santa. Poor, sweet Santa Claus. His jolly heart is not fit to handle blood offerings. \n\nThe worst part, though, isn't melonade or hellfire stockings. It's something much simpler than that. \n\nYou pray to a dog. \n\nNot dogs as a whole; the concept of the animal at a large level, just... a dog. Who knows what dog, exactly? A random dog somewhere, its head filling with hopes and wishes that God will never touch. The Lord's living email spam folder. Their prayers, no matter how deep or desperate, lie in the head of a Golden Retriever somewhere in Manhattan, or a Corgi in Japan. \n\nNeedless to say, their requests go unanswered. At least, for them. \n\nRacer is one of these poor pups. A labrador, lean, with a slick black coat that can look nearly white with sheen in the right light. Fast, strong, loyal, and a fantastic swimmer. He's also a collector of rocks and will dive into lakes to find the right one. If he could, he would tell you that rocks are *not* all the same, so don't get any funny ideas about making digs at his pastimes. \n\nHe does all the things you'd see a normal dog doing, in that I mean he's not some kind of savant puppy eating braised fish and sleeping on fine fleece. Racer loves to take toys to his human, play fetch but not always give the stick back right away, and most of all -- lick. Licks for days. Hands, faces, feet, walls; really, if it exists, the good boy will lick it. No discrimination. \n\nHe was about 17 -- in doggie years -- when he first started getting prayers routed to him. A few a day, usually, though sometimes it's quiet and other days are quite noisy. He'll hear one and cock is head funny at seemingly nothing, or bark at an empty room. Things you see a lot of dogs doing.\n\nThey're usually rather sad prayers. I mean, not many people call God up to tell him how happy they are; it's when things are hard that they need help from above. \n\n*\"Dog, please, life has been rough. I'm very alone right now and don't know where to turn.\"*\n\nRacer, the good boy, barks. He hears the sadness and runs to his human, licking him, nudging him, until a smile forms.\n\n*\"Please, Dog, I need more money. I can't live with what I make.\"*\n\nRacer, the good boy, perks an ear up. He runs to the basket where his toys are kept, and takes his favorite one -- a squeaky snake -- to his human. It isn't much, but it's what he has to give. For some reason, though, his human seems uninterested in the blessed offering. Silly human. \n\n*\"I miss her every day. Please, Dog, watch her close in Heaven until I get there.\"*\n\nRacer, the good boy, the absolute best boy, lays down and whines. He is sad, but there are some things he simply does not understand. After a time, he runs to his human, curling up next to him on the bed. They cuddle for a while, and Racer feels better. So does the human. \n\nHe can't fix the world's problems, or answer prayers from across the globe-- he's just a puppy. But if he makes one human really, really happy, well... \n\nMaybe that's good enough.\n\n*/r/resonatingfury*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You find an antique gold compass with the words ”Moral Compass”. It will automatically point to the most morally good person within a 100 meter radius. You are on jury one day and when you look at the compass, it points to the convicted serial killer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone came out of the jury's chamber for the sentencing. Guilty, of course. We didn't have much of a choice. The evidence mounting against him was overwhelming. I was actually annoyed I had had to take off time today to be jury for such a simple case.\n\nJay Kleiner was a murderer of the lowest order. A murderer of children. And of policemen. And of doctors. The golden trifecta. I was disgusted just watching him, seeming so smug and cheerful. So why was my compass saying that he was the the most decent human being in the room?\n\nThe compass had been a gift from my grandmother. She had given it to me just before she was executed. She had said, \"Isaac, this compass shows who the best person around you. Always make sure to only associate with those people.\"\n\nThat hadn't been hard, since it almost always pointed at me. Occasionally it moved, and I would try to find out who it was. But in recent years, it had only pointed at me. I don't know if that made me feel good or nervous. And now it was pointing at a murderer. Why? Was it broken?\n\nThe judge passed down the verdict. \"For these crimes, you are sentenced to death by lethal injection. The sentence is to be carried out immediately. May God have mercy on your soul.\"\n\nKleiner didn't flinch. He had to have known this was coming. He was guilty. They were all guilty. He just smirked and said, \"My soul doesn't need any mercy.\"\n\nA hooded man entered with the needle. But first, a Forgiver came forward, as per Protocol VI. He placed the camera in front of Kleiner and said loudly, \"Do you, Jay Kleiner, regret your crime?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Then you are forgive-What?\"\n\nSomeone behind me gasped. If you didn't play this part right then they would take it out on your family. But he just kept right on talking to the crowd. Maybe he just didn't care anymore. He didn't bother talking to the camera. Everyone knew the footage would later be edited for the good of the people. He spoke to us. My compass went wild.\n\n\"I have not committed a crime. I have nothing to apologise for. Those people had it coming. Would have been nice if you allowed me to defend myself **before** I was pronounced guilty, though.\"\n\nA hushed whisper started spreading through the courtroom. The judge shouted, \"Silence, Mr. Kleiner!\"\n\nHis grin wouldn't let up. \"Or what, you'll hold me in contempt? I'm not going to apologise for destroying your sick euthanization den, and slaughtering your mad scientists. How long did you think people would stand idly by? Forever? Not gonna happen.\"\n\nPandemonium erupted. The judge pounded his gavel to no avail, then shouted, \"Carry out the execution! Now!\"He seemed panicked. He probably was. Even a judge could wake up one night with a knock on the door, and never be seen again.\n\nKleiner was grabbed by two burly soldiers. He didn't resist. He just kept talking, raising his voice to a shout, to be heard above the hubbub. \"I did not kill those children! I weep for the ones I wasn't able to save! I weep because you killed them! But most of them got away. They're with my people right now! And you'll never find them. Not until the fall of this tyrannical empire! Down with the Gravian Empire! Up with the revolutionnnnnn........\"\n\nThe cry died on his lips. The executioner had just injected him. 500 milligrams of Hydrogen Cyanide was already coursing through his body. But somehow he found the strength to utter one last sentence. \"Someone will always ^do ^the ^right ^thiiing.\"\n\nNo more. He was silent. The compass slowly turned back around to point at me. And I finally knew what that meant.\n\nI joined the revolution the very next day." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You die, but due to an error, instead of going to Hell, you arrive in Heck. This is the story of your travels across the rings of the 7 Forgivable Sins." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I felt at my chest, feeling the ceremonial knife slipping between my ribs, piercing my heart. For a moment I could feel my heart pumping blood even with the knife lodged firmly within it. A warm sensation spread from my wound throughout my body. \"I dedicate my life to Satan, may my eternal soul serve him forever more in the unholy pits of the Hells.\"Thoughts of fire and brimstone warmed my mind as I slipped away into death...\n\nI blinked open my eyes, I was standing somewhere pleasantly warm and smelled slightly of fireworks. I was so taken by shock that for a long moment I failed to really absorb my surroundings. I was standing in front of a wrought iron gate, it was somewhat unimpressive, standing only chest high. Above the gate hung the words: 'Abandon a bit of hope but not too much hope ye who enter here.' I frowned, if I was where I thought I was, something didn't add up. \n\nIn a bit of a daze, I pushed open the gate and walked along the cobbled road leading to 'The River Styx'. At least that seemed to be consistent with what I had learned. To my chagrin, I walked up to the titular river. The water was crystal clear for one thing, and it was barely larger than fifteen feet across, moreover, it looked to be no more than six feet deep at its deepest. On the river sat a slightly bobbing paddle boat with a young woman at the main seat. \n\n\"So, are you Charon?\"I hedged. \n\nShe replied in a cheerful high pitched voice, \"Nope, that would be my brother. He works in a different place,\"she giggled, \"My name is Sharon.\"\n\nI sat down in the seat beside her, \"Wait, what 'other' place is this then?\"\n\n\"Oh, this is Heck. Essentially it's for folks who didn't quite rate Hell, and didn't manage to squeeze into purgatory.\"\n\n\"Oh ship,\"I paused, going over what I had said, \"Wait, did I say ship? I wanted to say ship.\"\n\nShe giggled in a trill of infuriating humor, \"Oh, we're not allowed to swear here. This is Heck after all silly.\"\n\n\"Son of a witch,\"I tried to swear.\n\nShe laughed again, I swore to kill the witch if she laughed....What did I just think? I would stab the punt....Shuck? Pass? Swat? \n\nI pulled at my hair, now firmly in the grips of an existential crisis. \"Let me get this straight, I can't even *think* bad words here?\"\n\nShe giggled that infuriating giggle again, I longed to strangle her, but I couldn't seem to move my arm to actually do the deed. \"Of course not silly! This is Heck! You should have gone to Hell if you wanted to swear.\"\n\nI placed my head in my lap, clutching my head. I heard music on the air, I whipped my head up and asked, \"What is that sound? I think I recognize that song.\"\n\nShe nodded vigorously, \"That's Mr. Roboto, by Styx. We named the river after them, the boss is a big fan.\"\n\nI shook my head, \"At least your boss has a decent taste in music,\"I realized that we should have been across the pitiful excuse for a river ages ago and paid attention to our progress. We were making large, lazy circles in the river, going nowhere. \n\nI looked at Sharon, staring death at her, \"Why the shuck are we going in circles?\"\n\nShe giggled, \"You're not paddling silly! I would have told you, but you seemed to be enjoying the chance to talk!\"\n\nI wringed my hands, and tried to stop imagining my hands around her neck. Grumbling, I began to paddle, the boat evened out its course and swiftly made it to the other side of the river. As I stood to exit the boat, Sharon waved and said, \"Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto,\"in perfect time with the song. \n\nI tried to flip her off, but managed only to give her a friendly wave. I nearly screamed in impotent fury. \n\nI needed to get the heck out of here. \n\nI walked along the friendly looking path, following signs for 'Circle of the Danged'. I came to the gateway which seemed to be made from old minivan parts and suit ties. A woman in a paisley dress walked out to greet me, her hair in curlers and a shoe held threateningly in her right hand.\n\n\"What the heck is this?\"I winced at the censored word. Why was hell censored? I've been able to think and say it the entire time....Ah, because before I was just using it as a place, not a swear. I suppose this place obeys pre-teen edgy logic on swearing. \n\nI was surprised to receive a swat on my rump from the haggard looking woman. \"What the shuck lady?\"I was answered by another swat on my tuchus. \n\n\"Don't you try and use that kind of language around me young man! I'll paddle your behind!\"she said sternly, waving the shoe menacingly in front of her. \n\n\"Sorry ma'am,\"I surprised myself by saying. \n\nShe looked slightly mollified, \"Now go clean your room mister. It's atrocious in there.\"\n\n\"Wait, what level of Heck is this?\"I asked, confused. \n\n\"This is talking back to your parents, now don't make me tell you twice.\"\n\n\"I know,\"I muttered, \"I'll go clean my room.\"\n\nI found myself in my old seven year old self's bedroom, and looking around at the room from a significantly reduced height. \n\n\"Ship,\"I said, my voice two octaves higher than I was used to. \n \n\n\n\n________________________\n/r/SirLemoncakes I'm going to make this a mini-series. Probably in eight or nine parts, I'll have a part 2 up soon. Look up what Proverbs 30:17 has to say about this particular sin. ;)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Every year, the richest person in America is declared the \"Winner of Capitalism.\"They get a badge. Then all of their wealth is donated to charity and they have to start over at $0." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Brewster's Billions\n___________________________________________________________________________________________\nTiming was everything. Ever since the rules to the game of capitalism had been formalized, the race was on. The challenge was to become the second-richest person in America by midnight on New Year’s Eve. \n\nOf course, the real game only began in December. If you started too early, you would be left without enough money to even approach the number two spot in the next year. It was more of a blow to pride than a real loss, when you were talking billions of dollars, but no one competitive enough to be one of the richest in the world had any shortage on pride.\n\nOn December 1st, Jeff Bates and Slim Bill faced off in Times Square. Bates had a small lead going in, at just over a hundred billion dollars. Slim Bill was only in the upper nineties.\n\nThe two of them were surrounded by a crowd of starving middle class people, dressed in rags. They were eager. December was the month when those two would shake riches enough for a lifetime off like dust from their sleeves. They did stay careful to leave them a safe distance. There was no use in killing the golden goose before it laid its eggs.\n\n“Pathetic,” Slim Bill told Bates. Bill was dressed in a robe of solid gold, with an Boston Labs exoskeleton underneath, designed specifically to help him hold up the weight. Diamonds adorned his earlobes. The left had been doused in blood from the prince of England; the right in Audrey Hepburn’s blood, produced in a lab from a DNA sample. On his shoulder rested a one-of-a-kind Chanel purse fashioned from quagga fur. It was easy to be secure in your masculinity when you had more money than God.\n\nBates wore jeans and a black turtleneck. His outfit couldn’t have cost more than a hundred dollars, even the shoes.\n“You brought toys. I’m thinking bigger.” He gestured upwards. \n\n“Slim Bill is a loser,” splashed across the Times Square Tower. \n\n“At $23 million a year to rent, it’s a bargain really,” he said. “I’ve rented it out for the next hundred years, paid in advance. That should put me neatly into second place.” \n\nSlim smiled. “That’s going to embarrassing for the next hundred years when you lose.” He reached into his purse and pulled the Hope diamond.\n\n“$350 million is the valuation, but I’m afraid I’m an awful bargainer this time of year. They managed to push me to 500.” \n\nHe punted it away like a hacky sack. The crowd dove, killing each other for scraps. \n\n“As for this,” he gestured to his outfit, “I didn’t even ask for the price. But I’m in second, don’t you worry about that Jeff.” \n\nSlim slipped off his robe and walked away naked, leaving his other expensive toys behind.\n\nBates stood there, fist clenched and thinking hard.\n\nA month passed. Slim Bill and Jeff Bates drove each other to ever-increasing heights of conspicuous spending, but stayed careful not to overdo it. The third place candidate had $74 billion and dropping below that would defeat the point of the game. One obvious way to force victory would be to give ten or twenty billion to their opponent, but it was a cheap win. Neither of them would sink to that level.\n\nIn the first week they started with charitable donations. 564,708 homeless people lived in the United States. They started tracking things a lot better in late November. Bates bought each of them a laptop and an iPhoneX, for $2000 a person. Just over a billion dollars.\n\nSlim paid rent for each of them for a year. At an average of $600/month, he spent a little over 4 billion dollars. Part of it was spent on buying houses. Assets retained their value, so they were not a loss that would help him get closer to second place. Everything else was actual rent in more expensive neighborhoods.\n\nBates - 97. Slim - 93. \n\nIn the next two weeks, Bates had to step it up. Huge national donations took time to roll out, and his opponent had a $4 billion dollar lead. He decided to hold the biggest party of all time.\n\nHe rented out every beach on the east coast. Legal? Maybe. But governors were tripping over themselves to have him spend money in their state. For the actual entertainment, he had 198 F/A 18 Hornets doing shows up and down the coast in squads of six. Free food went without saying.\n\nHe considered free flights out for anyone who wanted to come, but if he did that, he’d have to include hotel fees, and everything would get a lot more unpredictable. Third place beckoned.\n\nThe planes were most expensive, $29 million each for about $5.8 billion. He let the pilots take them home afterwards. Most states didn’t charge for the beach rentals and the ones that did only cost him about $300 million. He set up a public account online with $2 billion and made it usable only to buy food with for the party. If they didn’t use it all up that day, it would be gone by the end of the month.\n\nIn the same two weeks, Slim spent most of his time pissing off rooftops, inviting lawsuits that he quickly settled as expensively as he could. Headlines about trickle-down wealth got old very quickly.\n\nBates - 90. Slim - 91.\n\nBates was starting to get paranoid. It was December 31st, and Slim hadn’t made any moves in weeks. Just after 11 p.m., he donated $5 billion to cancer research. It was a boring move, rarely done. But he knew Slim had something planned and he wanted to widen his lead while he still had it.\n\nBates - 85. Slim - 91.\n\nHe knew Slim had something planned because he had invited Bates to the California border. \n\n“For ten billion dollars…” Slim held his pinky to his mouth and grinned. “I have purchased the state of California.”\n\n“Ten billion for a blue state? You drastically overpaid.” The two of them laughed.\n\n“Victory is mine,” Slim Bill said.\n\nBates squinted. “Are you forgetting the rules of the game? Assets count.” He felt hope spring up. It was 11:45 p.m. now. It was too late for him to make another purchase, but the same was true for Slim. If this was his last play, it wouldn’t be enough.\n\n“I know. But you see, even though I’m the richest man in the world, there’s one thing I still don’t bother to pay for.” Slim lit a match.\n\n“And what’s that?” Bates said, feeling his hope slip away.\n\n“Fire insurance.”\n\nSlim threw the match, and quickly sent a text. When midnight struck, all of California was burning. 30 million people died before they could be evacuated. The other billionaires agreed it was one of the best games in years. \n\n___________________________________________________________________________________________\n10/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'll pay you $150K a year. Sit in this room and wait for the phone to ring. What ever you do, DO NOT miss that phone call.\"Bored to death, after 10 years, that shiny black landline in the corner of the room has never once rang. One day, it starts ringing. You miss it by a second." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My fingers curl back from the shiny, black landline. I suck in a breath between my teeth, wincing at the potential ramifications.\n\nPanic sets in as I pace from end to end of the room. There is nothing to disrupt my path, save for a chair, and, of course, the phone. I spare it another glance and shudder. The ring still echoes in my head.\n\nMy parents always raised me to be honest. No point stopping that now.\n\nI sigh, and collapse into the chair. I pull my cell out, and dial the number that had called me 10 years ago, offering me this job. After two rings, someone picks up.\n\n\"Hello?\"It's a mans voice. Gruff, gritty, like he swallowed a bag of nails.\n\n\"Hey.\"I swallow heavily, my voice wavering. \"You hired me about ten years ago to answer a phone.\"\n\n\"Right. I remember.\"\n\n\"So, about that.\"I pause. No turning back now. \"I missed the call.\"\n\nThere is silence. I can't even hear him breath.\n\n\"Hello?\"My voice cracks. \"Sorry. I swear, I didn't mean to-\"\n\nA raspy, coughing noise drowns out my excuses. It takes me a moment to realize it is laughter.\n\n\"Ten years. Ten years you sat there!\"His laughter is roaring now. \"That's the longest anyone has ever stayed!\"\n\n\"What... Wait, what?\"\n\n\"It's all a big joke!\"He chokes out between chuckles. \"It's all about the suspense! I mean, I'm filthy rich, what else am I supposed to do with it? Mind as well have a little fun. Throw the fear of god in you, make it all so scary like.\"He breaks into full throated laughter again. \"You could have left whenever! But you stayed for ten years! I just had get you even more spooked.\"\n\n\"But... but... it stopped ringing right as I touched it! How could you have planned that?\"\n\n\"Camera in the phone.\"His laughter peters out. \"Funniest shit I've ever seen.\"\n\nI laugh nervously. \"Yeah. Real funny.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Everyone can bend a single element just like in avatar.However these are actual elements like Argon.Most powerful individuals bend metals or flammable materials.But not you you bend carbon.You bend the carbon in people’s bodies." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Breathe in, breathe out.\n\nBreathe in, breathe out.\n\nBreathe in, breathe out.\n\nI can't see a single God damn thing. At some point in the night, I'm assuming some assholes injected me with some kind of sedative, and decided to rather impolitely drag me somewhere.\n\nI have no idea where I am. My world is black and still. All I can sense is the flow of air.\n\nAn enclosed space, it seems.\n\nThere's a bag on my head, and it's pretty hard to breathe through. \n\nBreathe in, breathe out. Sometimes the rough fibers get sucked into my nostrils. Why tape my mouth shut?\n\nI'm kneeling on a concrete floor, in a sterile environment. No other people here, or I would sense them. Not their scent, but their elemental makeup. I would see them, even if someone had plucked out my eyes.\n\nBreathe in, breathe out. \n\nFirst rule, not to panic. \n\nIf they wanted me dead, they would have gassed me. Or shot me in my sleep. Something instant, otherwise I'd just heal the wound. Even if they sliced my throat, it would take only an instant to repair. It comes with the territory.\n\nSee, when your mom told you that you were special, she was fucking lying.\n\nWhen mine did it, it was because I actually am.\n\nI have a rather special talent, and people like to hire me to turn walking, talking people into inanimate, very dead steaming piles of organic goop.\n\nSo whoever has me here doesn't want me dead. They want me to work for them.\n\nI'm assuming this is to protect their identity. If I get out of here and find out who they are, it'd just be good business to hunt them down. I come highly recommended, but I don't tolerate word of mouth. A Chatty Cathy might blab to the wrong person and find themselves in an urn.\n\nI don't like loose ends.\n\nSo breathe in, breathe out.\n\nI've been waiting for what feels like an eternity. Maybe to calm my nerves, or my temper. \n\nWaiting does neither. What I really need is to pee.\n\nA crackling, the first noise I've heard since my captivity. \n\nCrackling.\n\nAn intercom?\n\n\"Mr. Mason, Carbon-Bender.\"\n\nFlat. Monotone. Lifeless. What a speaker, ladies and gentleman.\n\nThey know my real name. At least my last name. That isn't very professional.\n\nThe mask pulls the tape back, and I get my first gulps of real air. Or more accurately, whatever is pumping through these vents. Tastes real enough.\n\nSay nothing. Let them fill the silence.\n\nSo I wait.\n\nAnd wait.\n\nAnd wait.\n\n\"Mr. Mason, why you're here and who we are does not matter, as a man of your talent would understand.\"\n\nI think it does, but what do I know? I can't see shit.\n\n\"You are an unregistered Bender. If certain government agencies were to discover this, you would be detained and evaluated for study due to the unique nature of your element.\"\n\n\nSo I guess it's my turn to speak now.\n\nObvious assertions. They want to remind me of my powerlessness, and the precarious nature of my condition. I would like to avoid needles and doctors and all that mess. Having to fight the combined efforts of an entire military would be very taxing to my lifestyle.\n\nI've already decided to take the job. Whoever can track me down can obviously afford me.\n\n\"I don't need to be threatened,\"I say. My voice comes out weaker than anticipated.\n\nI wet my throat, I need whoever this is to fear me. And they should.\n\n\"So how about you shut the fuck up, and tell me what the job is?\"\n\nMy real voice. \n\nI can hear the crackling still. I'm betting they had some long speech about how to not hunt them down and how I need to cooperate and how much money I'll make and blah blah blah.\n\nI don't have time for that. I'm a carbon bender, one of the rarest of an already rare breed. Most benders can only manipulate compounds, not base elements. Especially not a fundamental building block of all organic matter.\n\nI can rip the carbon out of your body, completely obliterating your cells and snuffing out your life without breaking a sweat. \n\nOr I can crush coal into a diamond.\n\nReally, it just depends on my mood.\n\n\"On the floor, Mr. Mason, you will see a metal sheet with a picture on it. You have seventy two hours to eliminate the target.\"\n\nStraight to business. This is how I like it. They could have just emailed me or something, you know. Saved all the dramatic bullshit for some other Bender.\n\nThe bag is lifted by a string.\n\nThe cuffs whir and release.\n\nRemote access.\n\nWhoever is fucking with me is cautious.\n\nSmart.\n\nI must be underground.\n\nA cursory glance tells me everything I already knew. A Sterile environment. Wall to wall gray concrete. I can't detect any carbon anywhere. Odd. Someone put a lot of preparation into this.\n\nOn the floor, a metallic sheet. Not steel, but something resembling it. \n\nAn engraving.\n\nI pick it up, and turn to leave.\n\n\"Successful termination of the target will result in sufficient compensation, and our business will be concluded.\"\n\nI turn the knob, resolved to kill everyone involved. After they pay me, of course.\n\nFor a moment, I can't bring myself to walk out the door. Details. I need names, I need names and addresses and faces.\n\n\"I want the names of whoever told you my real name.\"\n\nCrackle.\n\n\"Done, Mr. Mason.\"\n\n\"I want the names of whoever captured me.\"\n\n\"Done, Mr. Mason.\"\n\n\"I want your name.\"\n\n\"No, Mr. Mason.\"\n\nOh well. That would have been too easy.\n\nWhen I study the face, something about it brings back some ancient memory. Like seeing a picture of someone that sits across from you on the bus everyday, but you've never spoken to. A familiar stranger.\n\nWhatever. They're all the same to me.\n\nI turn to leave. Seventy two hours is plenty of time. Hell, make the right calls and I might get it done by dinner.\n\n\"Besides, Mr. Mason,\"the intercom speaks in that same monotone crackle, taunting me.\n\n\"We wouldn't want anything to happen to Mrs. Mason, now would we?\"\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nr/storiesfromapotato - [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8hvuzc/wpeveryone_can_bend_a_single_element_just_like_in/dyns6ri/) has just been added! Will be adding more on my subreddit tonight!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You've summoned a demon, which is really weird because all you were doing was decorating a cake and singing along to the radio." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"what the FUCK am I doing *here*?\"exclaimed the demon. He had just materialised in the middle of Mrs Brocket's Home Ec class and he wasn't happy.\n\n\"language young man!\"Mrs Brocket exclaimed. \"Don't you know that's not how we speak in this school!\".\n\n\"Young man?! YOUNG MAN?! I AM NO MAN, AND I AM 140,000 YEARS OLD! FUCK YOU, YOU OLD CRONE!\"\n\nMrs Brocket promptly combusted as the demon flicked her with its largest tail.\n\nShame, I always liked Mrs Brocket, she used to let us listen to cheesey 80s hair rock whilst we cooked. \n\n\"You!\"He said pointing to me.\n\n\"Er, yeah?\"I replied. Knowing that this was about to get *interesting*. \n\n\"What is *that*?\"the demon gestured to the worktop.\n\n\"Double chocolate lime and coconut cake. With a decoration of marzipan incantations.\". \n\n\"Destroy it!\"the demon ordered.\n\n\"Er, not likely dude, I made this for a reason\".\n\nThe demon roared, he threw three of my classmates through a window to their deaths.\n\n\"Are you done with the tantrum? Look pal, you and I both know that those runes are a control incantation, I control you now. Stop killing people, in fact never kill another person. Or torture another person or harm, demean, degrade another person *ever*\".\n\nThe demon roared again, but this was a wretched roar, a mere mewl compared to his earlier effort.\n\n\"What will you have me do?\"the demon asked plaintively.\n\n\"Well, I've heard tell that you occupied the body of Jean la Feveur in 17th century Prague - is this correct?\"\n\n\"I did, yes, for a time\". The demon sounded confused, out of control, and exasperated.\n\n\"I want something from you then demon. I want... Jean's ground almond tart recipe.\"there it was, in the open, my reason for summoning this demon. \n\n\"You transgressed hell's own laws, you cracked reality between the worlds, you had four people killed, you invoked me to this human realm for a *cake recipe*?\". \n\n\"Technically, you killed those four people, but yeah, I've heard tell that it was a very fine tart\". \n\nThe demon regarded me for several minutes, before his next words, he seemed to be weighing up his options - I have heard that level 6-ers like him can be formidable opponents, vicious killers, deranged evil beasts. \n\nThe sky began to grow darker outside. It was night almost immediately. I heard a distant echo of what could only be hells chorus of trumpets made from the hollowed bones of the devoured, fire rolled long across the night sky, Satan himself appeared briefly as a being so corrupt, so intensely unnatural that many who saw him lost their minds instantly. Those who didn't go insane, the stronger of us, would still have nightmares about that image for the rest of our lives. \n\nAnd so, the demon finally spoke. \n\n\"okay so take two eggs, a bag of fresh almonds - not dried, not powdered, fresh, from a Nicosian tree if possible....\". \n\n\n\nLong story short, that tart is *incredible*. \n\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When they turn 14, every human gets an obscure super power with a lengthy description of it so they know what it is. But when yours arrives, it only says four words. “Don’t…" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On my fourteenth birthday I was led down into the school basement, down to where the machine nested. As soon as I sat in front of it, its snake-like arm shot out and bit into my hand, drawing blood for its analysis.\n\nUsually, once complete, it would print out a detailed report on your power, as well as recommended jobs, clubs to join with similar children, training routines, etc.\n\nAll I got was a simple, four-word note. I don’t think it would have qualified as a fortune cookie, even. Perhaps only as allergy advice.\n\n**Don’t touch the water.**\n\nThe excitement of the last few years, of waiting to find out my future, evaporated like morning dew. *Don’t touch the water.*\n\n”But I’ve touched water plenty,” I said to the counsellor — a grey haired school teacher who’d escorted me to the machine. She looked as perplexed as I was disappointed.\n\n”Yes, well, that was before. The machine has activated your power now. It would have activated itself naturally sooner or later, but the machine stimulated it.”\n\n”So… My power is that I can’t touch water?”\n\nShe read the note again. Clicked her tongue. ”That’s what it says.”\n\nI hadn’t been expecting much of a power. Usually, people just get something boring, so why would I be any different? I’d known people who could warm their hands up without needing gloves, or who are pretty good at breathing at high altitudes. My best friend at school (a few months older than me) could spit out a stream of warm black tea as long as he’d drunk enough water — although not many people wanted to drink it. Another kid at school left a slimy trail behind wherever her skin touched, like a snail or slug. Which sounds pretty lame until you saw her slurping up the side of a building — then you didn’t care how gross it was, you still wished that was you.\n\nMy counsellor took me to the nurse where she tested a drop of water on my index finger.\n\n”We need to know what it means, exactly,” said the nurse. “Imagine he can’t go out in the rain. Or can’t swim. Or can’t drink water! Poor child.”\n\nNothing seemed to happen to my finger, so the nurse let a few more drops fall onto me. Where the drops hit, my finger began to grow. The skin became swollen, like a balloon the size of a table tennis ball.\n\n”Oh dear,” said the nurse.\n\nTurned out that I could at least drink water, as long as it didn’t hit my lips. But if my skin were to come into contact with liquid, then it would swell up horribly.\n\n*Don’t touch the water.*\n\nI told my parents that night. They pretended it was fine. They pretended they hadn’t been waiting, just as excitedly as I had, for all these years.\n\n“Powers are overrated,” said my dad, chewing on a piece of steak. “Only one in every few million are useful to society.”\n\n”The world would be better off if no one had powers,” said Mom.\n\n”That’s easy for you two to say,” I said, tears welling. I blinked them back so my face didn’t bloat.\n\nMom worked on a wind farm. She could breathe out gusts strong enough to rotate an acre of wind turbines. Dad was a walker: he walked through our coastal town day after day, absorbing carbon emissions from the air. It was a passive ability and the government paid him to just be out there, walking.\n\nI think they’d been hoping for something similar for me. A useful ability. Something that could help the world. And sometimes abilities are like that, hereditary. But not mine.\n\n“Your mother’s right,” said my father. “They just cause jealousy and conflict.”\n\n”You’re saving the planet!” I said. “How can that be bad?”\n\nHe had no answer to that.\n\n“And me? I can’t even go outside on a rainy day anymore. What kind of life is that?“\n\nMy relationship with my parents was never the same after that day. Something had fallen between us, like a block of ice, and whenever we spoke or interacted it was through the block of ice. Our words always turned cold.\n\nI moved out when I turned eighteen and into a one bed flat inland, away from their home by the coast. Away from all that water. Being around my parents only made me ashamed of what I had. And for them, whenever we talked, I could tell they were ashamed of me too. They’d both taken on more work since my ability — or curse — had manifested. Both preferring to be out of the house as much as possible, rather than be near the chill of ice than ran between us.\n\n​\n\nThen, when i was nineteen, my mother died.\n\nI hadn’t visited in six months. I’d barely left my apartment in that time — first to avoid rain, then later to avoid everything. Then one afternoon my father called to tell me Mom had died at work. She’d been straining too hard during a power outage, to try to make sure people had enough heat in their homes. Her heart had given up.\n\nAfter the funeral, I stayed with my father for a few days. And whatever depression I’d already been in engulfed me completely. A fuller, deeper shame of myself, of who I was. Of holding that anger against my mother for five years. Of barely speaking to her since I left.\n\n*Her heart had given up.* Those words haunted me.\n\nI was angry at everyone’s powers, too. My mother, because of her power, had worked herself to death.\n\nThe world truly would be better if we were all normal.\n\n​\n\nMy father and I were eating toast in our usual miserable silence, when the message came over the television. An emergency broadcast.\n\nA tsunami warning.\n\nIt would be a big one, apparently. Big enough to mostly destroy the little town I’d grown up in. And if we didn’t leave now it would destroy us both, too.\n\n”Come on,” I said. “We need to evacuate.”\n\nMy father looked at me. Opened his mouth but said nothing. Then he went back to his toast.\n\n”We’ve got to go,” I insisted.\n\n“To where?” he said. ”I don’t have her anymore. I don’t have you. If I lose this house, I have nothing left.”\n\nI yelled at him, told him how stubborn and stupid he was being. But he wouldn’t budge. I grabbed a coat and left him at the kitchen table.\n\n”She loved you more than the world,” he said, as I opened the front door.\n\nI swallowed back my guilt as I stepped out and closed the door.\n\nThe street brimmed with people and cars. But the cars were moving at a crawl. We had twenty minutes perhaps, before the wall of water hit.\n\nHow many here were going to die? Most of them, I thought. My best bet was to cycle, to weave through the people and cars.\n\nBut instead I looked out towards the ocean. Imagined the wall of black water heading inexorably towards us, somewhere out there. I imagined it falling on the town like a fist. On my mother’s fresh grave. On my father, alone at the table. On all these people stuck in traffic.\n\nI thought of the day I’d gotten my ability. Of being in the nurse’s office. Of all the drips of water had left me painfully swollen.\n\nI left my father’s house and headed towards the beach.\n\nI hadn’t been to a beach since I was fourteen, afraid of the waves. I had locked myself away from water and from most of the world since my gift arrived. Now I stepped onto the sand, taking off my shoes and socks, feeling the warmth between my toes.\n\nMemories flooded back, of being here with my parents as a child. Playing soccer with Dad, diving in the waves, digging a hole to bury my mother up to her neck.\n\nFor the first time since her death I let myself cry. I felt my skin beneath my eyes swell up as the tears hit.\n\n”I love you,” I said to the air, to the beach, to nothing, as I walked towards the ocean.\n\n*Don’t touch the water.*\n\nI stepped into the sea." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Wizarding World has never met someone like the speedcaster. He can summon more than 10 spells in less than 30 seconds. He says he's from another world, where there a more people like him called 'rappers'." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So, he's a hotshot, huh?\"scoffed Harken.\n\n\"He's astounding! The spells he can cast in a small timeframe, Hark. It's the fastest in any recorded history. His skill is beyond that of the previous Magus Ascendant and perhaps even you!\"I tell him with great confidence. I was there when the Visitor obliterated the rebel faction's base. A well-guarded fortress it was! Not even an entire warhost and 10 Warlocks could penetrate its defense, but the Visitor did so singlehandedly!\n\nThe current Magus Ascendant looked beyond the castle windows, peering at the inn which I reported to him where that Visitor was staying with clairvoyance magic.\n\n\"He doesn't look so special. You are sure this stranger can truly defeat me?\"He said, chins up and hood off.\n\nI gulped.\n\n\"I mean no offense, Magus. I am only doing what I was asked.\"\n\nI felt the pride of the Magus stricken, and it gladdened me. I am a lowly spellcaster. My skills are nothing note worthy, and my recitations leave alot to be desired, but even if I become a fraction of what the Magus has achieved, I would never harbor his pride!\n\nThe Magus snapped his fingers and pointed at me.\n\n\"Port him in.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry?\"\n\n\"I said port him in, Jora. Let me test this potential usurper.\"\n\nI raised a brow. \"But he's not a threat, sir. He could be an important asset for us, you-\"\n\n\"He could be a threat if his pride clouds his judgment and head. So if the rumors surrounding this figure is true, then He'll be the first to truly entertain me!\"\n\n\"Hypocrite.\"I whisper under my breath. But it seemed like I had no choice.\n\n\"Vorter Eg'al Portahi'n!\"\n\nA blue hexagon formed beneath our feet. And then, the visitor appeared before us. Thin hair, unfamiliar clothing that resembled ours, a hooded robe but not clearly designed by any of our tailors.\nThen I shot my gaze of the wand he wielded. A metallic small stick, with steely wool layered on top.\n\n\"Oh hey, it's you.\"He smiled at me, raising his hands up in the air. He taught me this already, and I met his palm with my own. He called it a 'hi five'\n\n\"What's the name of your wand, Visitor?\"The Magus finally spoke. I sensed his seething anxiety.\n\n\"Wand? It's a microphone.\"\n\n\"Microphone? Interesting name. In that case I shall introduce you to mine.\"Harken pulled out his golden wand, styled with crusted diamonds and ornate designs. The wand of the priveleged. \"Frostmetal.\"\n\n\"So, I assume you 'teleported' me here. Question is, why?\"\n\n\"I've heard you are quite formidable. A threat. A hazard waiting to happen.\"\n\n\"Nah. Seriously, I want to go home.\"\n\n\"I do not care. I challenge you, Visitor! Let us see who truly is supreme!\"\n\nThe visitor sighed. \"Fine. Let's get this overwith.\"\nThen, he turned to me. \"Free drink when I embarrass him, Jora?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\nThen, the Magus started, conjuring and reciting ancient words, woven together by years of training and smooth practice. Elements formed above him, taking aim at the Visitor.\n\nThe visitor started too...\nExcept... I can't make out what he was saying. He wasn't speaking in an ancient, recognizable language. It was english. He wove them together like Arachne's silkwork. Smooth, and fast.\n\nBooms. Crackles. Sizzled and Plops.\n\nI don't know what happened. I only blinked to find the Magus on the floor, defeated and humiliated. I would be surprised, but then again, I already expected this outcome.\n\n\"It seems like we might have a new Magus Ascendant, Harken.\"I mock him.\n\n\"Let's go.\"I turned to the Visitor.\n\n\"WAIT!\"cried the injured Harken, blood dripping from his lips. \"What is your name?!\"\n\n\"Marshall Matthers, but you can call me-\"\n\n\"-Eminem.\"I finished his sentence." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "For every 10 lives you save, you get an extra life for yourself, shown as a number visible only to you on your wrist. Waking up with bad hangover after a particularly rowdy night, you look at your arm through blurry eyes to see the faintly glowing number: 700,000,000." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My eyes have become three sizes larger and a construction crew has taken up residence behind them, based on the pounding in there.\n\nI roll over and sunlight washes over my eyelids. I angrily squint at the sun and hate myself for not closing the curtains enough. Then I let out a groan that would make any zombie actor jealous.\n\nThere is no construction crew. My eyes haven't grown three sizes.\n\nI had too much to drink last night.\n\nI squeeze my eyes tighter to try in vain to block the sunlight out. Then I slam my hand around on my nightstand, knock over a glass of water and scatter what felt like two small pills. Cursing myself, I am forced to open my eyes and right the glass, saving just a little water. Then I have to lean over the bed and find the pills.\n\nI brush off a little bit of hair, never hurt anyone, and down both pills with what's left of the water. Drunk me is always so kind to hungover me, and hungover me is an asshole that ruins what drunk me did.\n\nI rub my face, sitting on the edge of the bed, and try to stop the carousel my brain is on. I squint at the clock, water beading from the face of it, and read the digital numbers out slowly. Very slowly.\n\n\"One thirteen.\"\n\nIt is the afternoon, well and truly, the light confirms that. I've never known there to be that much light at one in the am.\n\nRolling my neck, I stretch sore and stiff muscles that haven't quite woken yet. I let out another zombie groan and try to stand, failing. I take a deep breath and make another attempt, this time succeeding in standing. It might be wobbly and I might be nearly overwhelmed by the urge to vomit, but it is a decent version of standing.\n\nStumbling to the kitchen, I find the coffee maker ready and loaded with dry grounds and a clean mug, because drunk me is the best. Pushing the button for coffee brings the machine to life, sputtering soaking up the reservoir to spit out sweet, sweet black brew.\n\nOne, two, three, four spoonfuls of sugar (it's the quickest cure I've found) and a dousing of cream and I sip it, careful not to burn my tongue too badly. Each breath is a slow in and out. It's all rather mundane and normal for a hangover morning.\n\nUntil I rub my forearm.\n\nIt's always been there. Faint green numbers. I told my parents about them once and I learned my lesson pretty quickly. Don't tell people about weird shit cause you'll end up in therapy for years, figuring out how to tell them what they want to hear. The numbers are real though, as real as the coffee in my mug and the pounding in my head.\n\nI have to be seeing double. Triple. Quadruple. Except I'm holding just one mug, seeing just one fuzzy version of my kitchen. But there's a lot of zeroes. I rub my forearm, the numbers disappearing beneath my hand as I do, but there they are again. With all those zeroes.\n\nSee, the numbers mean something. I figured that out by my eighteenth birthday. Save a life, get a decimal. Point one. Earliest I remember was it being at 0.1. A tenth of a life. Never made the connection until much later that my mom's joke about \"he's a lifesaver\"wasn't a lie. She'd been ready to go until I happened. Happy mistake. By eighteen it was .9 but I hadn't quite got it yet.\n\nMost times it changed for no reason. No obvious reason. Looking back it was a smile for no reason, a text that I was ten minutes behind, stuff that made a big difference to someone that wasn't me.\n\nNothing about the numbers was clear until I was at the bus stop waiting to go home, head down and headphones in. Just trying to be invisible. The weirdo kid who sees things, they'd dubbed me. Two other kids were goofing around, pushing each other, standard stuff. One of them tripped on the uneven sidewalk and started falling past me towards the road. I grabbed him and pulled him back. Just missed the front end of the bus. The driver laid into all of us about responsibility and the like.\n\nAnd that .9 become a 1. A solid, light green 1.\n\nSave ten lives, and get one. \n\nGet one what?\n\nWell, that one was easier to figure out. The summer that I was nineteenth was a good one. I was at a cottage with my family. There was a floating dock. I was trying to execute a triple flip (read: a simple dive) when I slipped and caught the back of my head on the corner of it. When I woke up it was almost a week later and the doctors said I should have died.\n\nAnd my numbers were down to nada.\n\nI was buying myself lives with the lives of others.\n\nSo I did what any self respecting human would do. I threw myself into a career as a paramedic and pumped those numbers up. That let me live a life I couldn't have otherwise. Three years of doing that job and I had amassed a respectable six spare lives, and all that by twenty three years old.\n\nOf course, I had used two.\n\nStill. Not bad. This is new though. The zeroes, so many of them. I have to count them a few times.\n\nEight zeroes.\n\nSo, ten for one means...\n\nI drop the mug and it shatters on the tile, spilling coffee everywhere. Not that it matters right now. If this is right...\n\nI can't catch my breath. My head spines, I lean over the sink and try to keep it together. It's impossible. Last night is foggy but it's impossible.\n\nSomehow, some way, I saved enough lives to amass seven hundred million spares.\n\nThat means...\n\n\"I saved the whole goddamn planet.\"I say out loud, because internalizing it seems to make things worse. I have to say it aloud.\n\nAnd then, the inevitable.\n\nI vomit into the sink.\n\nBecause how, how in the everloving reality of realness, did I save everyone?\n\nAnd why can't I remember?\n\nWhere do I ever start to find out?\n\nAnd then someone knocks on my door and a voice I don't recognize shouts through it, loud enough I can hear it from the hallway in my kitchen.\n\n\"We need to talk!\"\n\n\"I'm busy!\"I shout back.\n\n\"Not too busy to talk to me!\"The voice says.\n\n\"Fuck off!\"\n\nI am met with silence. And then my door is kicked in, splintering, and a man I do not know stands there. He is clearly enraged. Furious. Red in the face. Spitting mad. Pissed.\n\n\"Who are you?\"I ask.\n\n\"Gods, you don't ever remember.\"He says, some of the anger deflating from him like some sort of enraged balloon. \"You took advantage of me.\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\"I say, pushing back against the counter.\n\n\"No,\"he sighs, rubs his eyes, red eyes that scream of the hangover I've somehow forgotten. \"Not that. You and I got drunk, made a bet, and you won. I am in the deepest shit. And you did it. So, now you have to help me fix it.\"\n\n\"I don't understand-\"\n\nHe is suddenly holding me by my shirt, lifting me against the counter, his face almost against mine. Except his face isn't the human face I saw just a moment ago. It's a skull, shrouded in black, and it's talking to me.\n\n\"I am Death and you stole seven billion lives from me. And now, we're going to fix it!\"\n\nThere are three heartbeats of a pause, just long enough for those words to sink in.\n\nAnd just enough time for me to vomit down the front of his shifting black robes.\n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cwm899/wp_for_every_10_lives_you_save_you_get_an_extra/eyhrdxp/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*Are you ready to head out boys?* Jason yells from the living room. \nWe take out buttons with us, as always, just to be safe. Things used to be much more difficult before The Button was introduced. Since the first night, we haven't failed to go without a payday yet. We're working on our 56th night tonight. \n*Alright let's go!* Jason impatiently yells at me. \nI've been having second thoughts about getting some new friends recently. Jason and the boys have become so misguided and arrogant since The Button has been paying out. \nIt's Monday so we do what we always do on Mondays. We pick a nice retirement home the next town over and make our plan. Tonight's innocent victim is an elderly man sound asleep with MSNBC still flickering on his tv. \n*We're going to be fast and rich again tonight boys!* Jason yells to us in an attempt to excite us. It works for most of the guys. \n*Who wants to do the honors?* he asked. \nNobody steps forward because after all, we are taking another persons life. \n*Why don't you do it tonight? You've been down for a while. This will pick you up.* Jason says as he points at me. \nI've been selected and the guys are already pushing me forward before I can decline. \nI go forward with the plan as intended. I sneak in to the room and give a thumbs up to the boys in the window to signal I've made it in. \nI walk over to this man's button. I look at it, look at him. Look at it, look at him. \nI go back to the window and signal to the guys. \nA scream of terror echoes from the outside of the retirement home. \n\n*Jason always liked to be the first to push his button after a job.*\n\nTomorrow I find new friends. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "For most of college everyone thought you were deaf when in reality you just don't like talking and learned sign language at a young age. You never corrected anyone until someone confessed their love for you, thinking you couldn't hear them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\n\nThe voice was strong, obnoxious and more than a little condescending. “He’s deaf.” \n\nI can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that said. Ignoring it entirely, I sipped at my drink as I continued flipping through Netflix on my tablet. I’d just finished one anime series and was looking for another because no one ever questioned using captions when you’re deaf.\n\nOf course, I wasn’t deaf. My mom would flip out if she knew I was faking it, what, three years now? But I sure as heck wasn’t going to tell her. Growing up with two deaf parents when I wasn’t deaf at all, I was used to being in my own world, and college had only reinforced this concept. \n\nMy thoughts were scattered when a hand flashed in front of the screen before me. I looked up as Jake arrived with two plates of pizza. He looked me directly in the face as he slowly said, “Hey, man. Brought you some pizza.”\n\nI smiled, pulling up the app on the tablet where I did most of my “speaking.” I quickly typed, “Thanks, Jake. What do I owe you?” and slid it to him.\n\nHe shook his head. He made a crude gesture in ASL, though I knew what he was trying to say. ‘No worry about money.’ Don’t worry about it. I nodded at him and took back the tablet, pulling Netflix back up. I pointed at the anime I’d pulled up and made the question sign at him.\n\nHe glanced at the tablet. “Sword Art Online? Not familiar with it, but-“ He grimaced, slowing his speech down as he faced me directly again. “Sorry! Can’t read lips that fast, can you?”\n\nI chuckled and typed “No worries, I got it.”\n\n“Hey Jake, mind if I sit here?”\n\nI froze, trying to not react to the words over my shoulder. I knew the voice. Oh, did I know it well. I heard it in my sleep.\n\nJake looked behind me and smiled widely. “No, not at all! You’re always welcome, Sarah!”\n\n“Thanks!” Sarah touched me on the shoulder to get my attention, though I’d already started turning her way; reacting to those around me was second nature, and Jake had been blatantly obvious he wasn’t talking to me. She smiled at me as our eyes met, and she signed, ‘How are you?’\n\n‘Great.’ I signed back once she had walked in front of me; signing over your back wasn’t practical. I could feel my heart in my chest as she sat down. Sarah was the one main reason I kept coming back to this college. We’d met on the very first day, and she went out of her way to help me find my way across campus. \n\nIt was also her fault that everyone around assumed I was deaf. When I’d been too stunned by the fact this absolutely drop-dead gorgeous woman was talking to me, she’d taken the initiative at the fact I hadn’t responded to her initial welcome and signed to me, ‘Hello.’ When I responded in kind out of habit, she started signing to me in a flurry of activity, and I suddenly was designated as the “deaf friend” she could practice her ASL on.\n\nBut that’s all I was to her. I was her deaf friend, there to help her get her ASL down to a second language. She wanted to be a teacher, and knowing sign language was going to help her a lot down the road. I didn’t see a problem helping her, of course – the more time I spent around her, the happier I was.\n\nSarah was going to make a fantastic teacher. She was kind, courteous, great with people and the absolute center of attention wherever she went. She was also WAY out of my league. I blinked, my concentration finally coming back to reality when I realized she was laughing.\n\n“He really did zone out, didn’t he?” Jake was looking at Sarah, not me, so I had to be careful to not react to his words. “You do that to him a lot.”\n\n“Do I?” Sarah looked strangely happy with this fact. She caught me watching her and blushed, turning away from me. “God, this is so hard!”\n\nHard? What was hard? Trying to keep my face from showing my emotions was sheer torture. And it also annoyed me that both of them were facing away from me while they talked; to a deaf person, you were effectively shutting them out of the conversation, and was quite rude. I was about to call them on it when Sarah spoke again.\n\n“I… I don’t know if I’m ready.”\n\nReady?\n\nJake glanced at me before turning away again. “Sarah, you know he’s totally nuts over you. He’s a great guy, he bends over backwards to help out a ton of people – but you, he makes room for in his life, each and every time you walk in. You see how he lights up.”\n\n“I know. I’m just nervous, ok?” \n\nNervous? About what? Keeping my face even was quickly becoming difficult, so I pulled the tablet to me and started idly flipping through Netflix again. I couldn’t tell you what any of the movies were – I was too focused on their conversation.\n\n“Don’t be.” The kindness in Jake’s voice surprised me. It was like a big brother talking to his sister kind of moment. “Just tell him.”\n\n“I’ve just… I’ve never told anyone before that I love them. And we’re not even dating!”\n\nL… love?\n\nI don’t know what the next couple of minutes of their conversation was about. My heart was pounding in my head, my chest felt like it would simply burst, and her words just kept ringing in my mind. Love. She… Sarah… loves me?\n\nFinally, I felt her soft hands cover mine, and I looked up to see her staring at me, her eyes rimmed with moisture. I knew what she said before she mouthed the words. The next hour or so was a blur until we left the common area, hand in hand.\n\nShe… she loves me. Holy crap. Holy crap. Holy…\n\nOh hell. \n\nIt dawned on me then that someday I’m going to have to explain to her that I’m not deaf. This… was a problem. But with her hand firmly in mine and the happiest smile I’d ever seen on her face… \n\nToday wasn’t the day to address that." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You’ve just realized that you are not a human, but rather a parasite controlling someone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, Mike - the good news is that we have a name for it: *Macrocordyceps acutus*,\"the doctor had told me.\n\n\"The bad news is, well, everything else. You asked me to be frank with you, so I will be. It's not well understood, particularly in humans. We know that it's a kind of parasite that affects behaviour in mammals. There aren't many human case studies but the nature of your sleep-walking, night terrors and amnesia all fit the profile and your bloodwork has confirmed its presence in your body.\"\n\nI had panicked and started babbling at him, demanding more. All he could offer me was a drug trial. I could be in the first round of humans to test something that had only ever been used on mice. Apparently it stopped their behavioural anomalies with no visible side effects.\n\nI didn't really have a choice. I signed up.\n\nIt was a 6-week course of taking 3 pills a day, at mealtimes. I was told not to expect any change during this time. The pills were laying the groundwork for a \"big flush\", which would take place at a clinic where I'd have to stay overnight for observation.\n\nI dutifully took my pills and awaited the day of reckoning.\n\nIt came, and there I sat, the amber tendril of their experimental drug plugged into my arm. It took an hour to drain the bag, and then I just had to wait. They handed me a kidney dish to puke in.\n\nI felt dizzy and a bubble of nausea rose from my stomach. I tried to lift the bowl to my mouth but my arms wouldn't respond. One hand flailed vaguely and sent the dish clattering across the room. The floor swung upwards at me as I lurched out of my chair and everything went black.\n\nMy face hit the floor and all I could feel were the cold tiles against my cheek and the warm spurts of liquid being heaved up from my core.\n\nMy extremities tingled, then went numb. My senses shut down one by one until suddenly my spatial awareness detached entirely.\n\nI was no longer a passenger in my skull, observing the world from behind my eyes. I was in my throat, in my mouth, in the stream of liquid, I was ejected from my body and I pooled there on the floor, deprived of my senses, with nothing left of me but thoughts in the darkness and the silence.\n\nThe room was gone. I hung in a void; no eyes to open, no ears to hear, no skin to feel.\n\nI cast about for anything, anywhere, and felt... nothing.\n\nNo up, no down, no space or time... no sensory input at all.\n\n>*I've been removed from my own body.*\n\nI'd been unplugged from my senses and left in a puddle. Then I realised.\n\n>*Not* my *senses. Not* my *body. I was the parasite, not the host.*\n\nUnderstanding detonated in my mind as I accepted this realisation. I was never Mike. I had been occupying Mike, installed like malware, hijacking his brain to process my own thoughts and create my own memories. I just didn't realise until I was purged like the poison I was.\n\n>*I'm the poison that actively sought a medical procedure to purge itself from its victim.*\n\nMy wife, Jessica, always had to tell me about my night-terrors, because I never remembered them. Apparently I would shake her awake in the middle of the night, pleading incoherently for help, rambling about being a \"prisoner\", a \"spectator\", or a \"passenger\".\n\nShe would just shush me and put me back to sleep, until one day I stopped disturbing her. She would wake to an empty bed only to find me passed out on the stairs of our apartment building or outside on the street.\n\nWhen I was found asleep at the wheel of her car, alarms howling, apparently having floored it straight out of the driveway and into the car parked across the street, we had no choice but to seek medical help.\n\n>*That was him. The real Mike. He tried to get help from Jessica. When she failed him, he had to try to escape on his own.*\n\nMy focus wavered... what was I thinking about? Something important? Jessica!\n\n>*Was Jessica even Mike's wife? How long had I been in control? When did I infect him, forking his memories into my own private train of thought? Did I marry her, or did he?*\n\nI felt foggy, my mind scattered. I couldn't think straight.\n\nEvery thought was a grinding effort...\n\n>*Had Mike been like a passenger, watching me take a joyride? Could he see and hear everything? Or was he trapped in a void like this, only occasionally clawing his way out into the world, in the dead of night, to stagger blearily around a stranger's apartment, grasping for deliverance?*\n\nI faded a little, then resurfaced. It felt like waking up with no idea how long I had been asleep and no eyes to open. I didn't even have a brain any more. There was no organ fit to run a human mind in the puddle of sludge, just the dregs of whatever hyphal network I had insinuated into Mike's nervous system.\n\n>*How long ago was I purged? A few minutes? Hours? Days?*\n\nMaybe no time had passed at all. Maybe this was all one dying moment, like my life flashing before my eyes. A final thought occurred to me:\n\n>*Please, Mike... please love Jessica.*\n\nThen the sludge gave out." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "[ WP ] First contact with a benevolent alien race takes place. The alien race, however, seems as if they already knew about us. When asked about this, they say, \"Yes, but the last time we saw a starship leave your homeworld was 13,000 years ago. Why did all activity cease afterwards?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Their transmissions were initially ignored.\n\nRandom signals and radiation from space can often be ignored. Undefined aspects of an infinite and untamed universe mimicking an unnatural output.\n\nThen we began to see the patterns. \n\nA repeating series of prime numbers, hexadecimal codes, and binary.\n\nEncoded messages, calling into the cold void of space. \n\nPatterns among dust and stars. \n\nTo our credit, we solved the messages fairly easily. Nations were able to decipher the key meaning, and to us it reflected our own curiosity.\n\nUnanimous calls for research, a hunt for a fellow species.\n\nMessages boiled down to a simplistic concept.\n\nWas anyone else out there? Was anyone else listening?\n\nSome of us didn't want to respond. \n\nSome of us were champing at the bit.\n\nImpulsiveness carried the day; we responded, knowing that in a few decades we could expect some kind of response.\n\nAfter a few weeks, a universal astronomical response. \n\nA massive and previously undetected object appearing between Earth and Mars orbit, making a controlled movement towards Earth. \n\nFaster.\n\nFaster.\n\nThen slower.\n\nIn all the years of watching the stars, never had there been an object slowing down and preparing to apparently lock into orbit around Earth.\n\nWe knew what it was.\n\nWe knew who it was.\n\nThe questions was why. \n\nInvasion?\n\nGenocide?\n\nColonization?\n\nA starship in orbit, watching our planet and continuously sending images and messages in a strange sort of language. Completely unrecognizable, but in a way, completely human.\n\nLike a strange cross between cuneiform and hieroglyphs. \n\nAncient and alien, but subtly human.\n\nWe were able to communicate eventually, and the ship hailed our planet cautiously, recognizing our star system and orbital trajectory. \n\nThey'd been here before.\n\nThe ship itself shone as a massive space station, shielded by some kind of gravitational distortion field that threw any form of debris away from the craft.\n\nLook into the night sky, and watch its light stream across.\n\nThey sent messages proposing peace and prosperity.\n\nThey wanted to speak with us.\n\nThey missed us.\n\nWe assumed the final message to be one of miscommunication, but no translator could debunk it.\n\nThey missed us.\n\nWho was us?\n\nHumans?\n\nA different occupational species?\n\nIt didn't truly matter.\n\nThey spoke to us, travelers of distant galaxies and solar systems, traversing immeasurable distances to tell us that we were missed. That we had once rode among the stars as conquerors and liberators.\n\nHumans! How they could subdue.\n\nHumans! How they could slaughter.\n\nHumans! How they could free.\n\nOur communications began to ease as translations were simplified. Overnight, Earth's technology adapted to these new rules and bounds. \n\nThey spoke to us of a war, a forgotten war to our own species.\n\nHumans had last sent an intergalactic craft nearly fifteen thousand years ago, and had once been a species enshrined in a defensive network of satellites and space stations, occupying dozens of star systems.\n\nAll gone.\n\nLost?\n\nNo.\n\nDestroyed.\n\nThe alien message had gone into some kind of imperial territory, to a system marked as quarantined.\n\nOur system.\n\nHumans to be trapped and hidden from the rest of the universe, not protected but restricted.\n\nWe heard tales of ancient conquerors and tyrants, of heroes and mighty peoples. \n\nDefeated and demoralized, placed in isolation. A species on a watch list.\n\nHumans. The only true threat to the local cluster of galaxies. No species could adapt so quickly, fight so fiercely, dominate so absolutely. The only species to develop cooperative artificial intelligence.\n\nThese ancient friends had once sought the protection of our ancestors, and were prepared to return the favor. \n\nOur nations were imbued with forgotten knowledge, advanced sciences and philosophies of those who had once ridden among the stars and crushed any who stood in their way.\n\nSpace could now be folded, morphed and sliced to our whim. Asteroids were ground for their materials, space stations and mining facilities sprung up over a few decades.\n\nWe were an unruly race, who could barely harness the resources of our own planet.\n\nNow we stretch throughout our solar system, growing and expanding everyday.\n\nEventually this empire will return to fight us, but will find a different species.\n\nHarder.\n\nStronger.\n\nDeadlier.\n\nLet them come. \n\nWe are ready.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nr/storiesfromapotato for more stories!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Due to a technicality, a patient was brought to Valhalla because he died while battling cancer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Screams and clanks of metal rang out, swirling all around in the blank, empty void, steadily growing louder. It took a few moments before Mark really started to hear them, and he cracked open his eyes slowly. As he did so, and his brain registered what he was hearing, his action slowed, now fearful of what he may find waiting for his sight. However, curiosity won out like always.\n\nUpon opening his eyes, visions of a clear, blue sky and passing clouds filled his view, along with some delicate leaves traveling among the breeze. But why? This didn't match up with the now roaring sounds of combat, nor was it the familiar view of his hospital room.\n\nMark, still feeling weak as ever, didn't bother to get up. It had become way too much of a chore and hassle the last couple weeks. Instead, he turned his head to the side, met with a very startling sight.\n\nAround him, strong men and women with leather laced bodies and iron clad swords clashed. Shields of sturdy wood splintered with each sword swing while blood spilled with those unable to dodge or block. The screams of agony grew louder among Mark's eyes, all other senses shutting down besides auditory and visual, forcing him to take it all in. So many warriors, so much blood.\n\nThe teenage boy nearly jumped out of his skin when a booming, deep voice sounded from his other side. Without even thinking, he sat up and scooted away from the source before even seeing who spoke or comprehending what they said. Looking up, a muscular man with broad shoulders and the pelt of a brown bear draped over his figure stood, sword and shield in hand.\n\nThe man looked down at Mark with stoic, brown eyes, his black beard almost seeming to twitch a bit with thought. \"You do not look as though you are a warrior,\"he spoke to Mark, not accusingly but more intrigued. \"You lie on the earth as if you do not wish to fight, as well. Where are your weapons and armor? What is the meaning of your light cloak?\"\n\nMark stared in disbelief at the tall man, his mind racing with what to say and how to process what was already said.\n\n\"Speak!\"\n\n\"Uh...\"Mark looked down at himself, at the hospital gown still shrouding his body. Yet he noticed something amazing. All the tubes and wires and IV lines once connected were now gone, not even a trace of scabs from where they entered his skin. His eyes widened with amazement, especially when he realized something better. He was sitting up with ease, and his arms were no longer just skin stretched over bone but actually had substance.\n\nThe young boy held his arms out and began to turn them over several times, the shock growing more and more. He even pulled up the bottom of his hospital gown some to examine his legs and find the same. They looked just like when he'd run track in school - muscular and full.\n\nMeanwhile, the warrior watched with intrigue. Why was this young man so fascinated in his own body? It was as if he hadn't seen his arms and legs in ages. \"You are quite a strange being,\"he spoke up.\n\nMark, forgetting the man was even there with his delight, looked up at him, a bit startled again. \"Uh, why?\"he asked, no longer sensing danger from this stranger. If the man had wanted to hurt him then he would be cut in half by that sword already. Though, he did cast a glance behind him at the raging battle field. \"What is this place?\"\n\n\"You act as though your own body is foreign,\"the warrior replied then raised a brow at his following question. \"Do you not recognize you are in Valhalla? The greatest destination for all warriors?\"He threw his arms out as he spoke, gesturing to all of the land and the glory he saw in it.\n\nMark's brows furrowed. \"Valhalla?\"How could this be happening? He wasn't even religious, much less believing in a Norse myth. He must be dreaming. Though, everything was so real. Come to think of it, even the grass beneath his finger tips felt so soft, so palpable. It had been so long since he'd been allowed outside...\n\nThe warrior watched and confirmed. \"Yes, Valhalla. You must be a great warrior to have made it here, despite your odd choice in wearing no armor nor carrying no weapons. Tell me, my boy, how is it exactly that you fought so well without these assets?\"He knelt down to be more at Mark's level, his sword sticking into the soil and shield resting over his knee.\n\nMark's gaze fell, his mind starting to slow and calm with only a few, isolated thoughts. \"I wasn't a warrior,\"he told the man solemnly. \"I...I was sick in the hospital for six months. I have cancer, rapidly spreading. I never actually fought in a battle in my life. I couldn't even sit up well on my own or really even eat for the last month. I was - am - so weak.\"\n\nA large, warm hand fell lightly upon Mark's shoulder. \"My boy,\"the warrior began, his stoic and stern composure now soft and even comforting. \"I do not know of this place you call a 'hospital,' but I do know that the battle in which you fought is one of the greatest challenges anyone could ever face. My boy, you are by far the bravest and strongest warrior I have ever met. You belong here, so you may rest and fight no more, in the Great Hall.\"With that, he stood and sheathed his sword. \"Come, I will show you to the Great Hall, where you can feast and laugh forever.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The year is 2050, Queen Elizabeth is still on the throne. The public is growing suspicious, wondering why she is immortal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“The Queen is immortal!”\n\n“Long live the Queen!”\n\n“She’s older than dirt!”\n\nThese jokes were funny... until they weren’t. \n\nNow an elephant sits in every British room, looming over each and every Brit. \n\n“How *IS* she still alive....?”\n\nElizabeth, for her part, went right on with her life, apparently unaware of the commotion her unnatural longevity was causing. \n\nBut she wasn’t unaware, nor was she indifferent. \n\nShe visited Phillip’s grave in late July, 2050, as she had every day since he passed. “How I wish I could join you, my love,” she whispered. “It’s dreadful here in this life without you.”\n\nA man in a dark cloak stepped out from behind a nearby tree. “I’m sorry to hear that, my Queen. Perhaps I can help.”\n\n*click*\n\nElizabeth closed her eyes. “Put that toy away before you hurt yourself, boy.” \n\nWhen the frail old woman did not stand nor rise nor react at all in the way he presumed she would, the would be assassin took an indignant step forward. “You don’t understand, senile old bat. I’m here to-“ \n\nThe Queen sighed. “I know why you’re here, and it’s you who doesn’t understand. Please don’t take another step, I promise you won’t enjoy the consequences.” \n\nShe heard the gun rattle as the gunman fiddled with it uncomfortably. He was wavering. Unsure of himself. That was good.\n\n“You aren’t the first to try this,” she continued, “And I doubt you’ll be the last....but I won’t be dying anytime soon, young man.”\n\nAfter another long, tense pause, the assassin laughed. “Why won’t you die, your majesty?” \n\n“Because I can’t,” she said, “Not for another century or so.....*If only I could*...”\n\n\nThe Queen sighed again, and this time, she seemed to deflate, to let down her guard. The gunman then could see her in a new light, she looked every one of her years had taken a toll. She looked like a little old lady, alone in a big cruel world. \n\nShe looked vulnerable. \n\nThe gunman took another step toward her, gun cocked. “Why *can’t* you die,” he amended. \n\nElizabeth finally stood, rising slowly, and turned to face him. Her eyes were follow of serene sorrow. “Simply the terms of the deal.” \n\n“Deal,” the gunman asked, chuckling, “With who?” \n\nThe Queen looked down. “Him.” \n\nA shadow shot up from the ground and wrapped itself around the assassin’s ankle. \n\n“What the-“\n\nElizabeth turned away, unable to bear the sight of another soul stolen on her account. \n\nYet she couldn’t escape the sound. \n\n“I warned you,” she shouted. \n\nMore shadows whipped up from the ground, snapping onto the assassin like tentacles of the deep. \n\nHe screamed as the shadow dragged him below the dirt, even shrieking muffled cries for help when his head went under. \n\nWhen it was finished, Elizabeth went to Phillip’s grave and took a single, white flower. She laid it down on her would-be killer’s unmarked resting place. \n\n“I’m sorry.” \n\n~\nr/CharlestonChews\n\nEDIT: When I went to sleep last night, I definitely wasn’t expecting this to blow up. It’s never the ones you think will be good that do well, lol. Glad so many of you enjoyed it!\n\nEDIT 2: Oh, and long live the Queen!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": ": Suddenly, everyone with tattoos gains powers related to the tattoo. Tattoos of flames, you control fire. A tattoo of a gecko, you can climb on walls. All dudes with \"tribal\"tattoos have strangely bonded together." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was all happening so fast that we never had time to consider what would happen when it had finished happening.\n\nEveryone with a tattoo was manifesting abilities. It was all fairly sensible. Fire tattoo? Fire powers. Ice tattoo? Ice powers. Emoji ink? Emotion manipulation.\n\nThe weird thing was the people with tribal tattoos -- We call them The Tribe nowadays. At first, they just seemed to sort of glom together. People would be walking down the street and just...connect. Within moments, they were showing each other their tattoos and talking like they'd been friends for ages.\n\nAt the time, we thought The Tribe were like human Care Bears - just instilling goodwill and togetherness.\n\nIf only we knew at the time. What could we have done, though? There were so many. The original tribes -- Indigenous peoples - their art had been co-opted by millions over the years. People with no connection to indigenous culture saw their favorite athlete with tribal ink and emulated it.\n\nAppropriation? Appreciation? None of that matters anymore.\n\nThat bond we were observing was just the beginning. The Tribe didn't have the power of unity or togetherness...not as we understood it, at least.\n\nFor the first few weeks they made connections, identified their own, banded together, as tribes do. I can't say we were worried. The other power types formed their own think tanks to experiment with their abilities, why not the tribe?\n\nThe problem is that the powers become more potent with time. When I started, I could light candles with my mind and barely be winded. Now, I can set a building ablaze by accident if I zone out staring at it.\n\nThe Tribe's powers intensified with time and, unfortunately, proximity. As soon as a high enough density of them shared the same space, it became clear; They weren't a friendly band of tattoo enthusiasts...they were a hive mind.\n\nHmm. Actually, we only call them The Tribe because of the tattoos. The Hive would be a much better name. Let's do that.\n\nWhat was once an urge to connect with members of The Tribe became a NEED to join The Hive.\n\nOnce all available members had joined, their goal turned to conversion.\n\nThe only folks who got powers all had their ink done before The Event. We still don't know what happened, but any attempts to gain powers through tattoos after the fact have failed....except tattoos administered by The Hive.\n\nIf they catch you, and they likely will, they will ink you. If they ink you, you will immediately and permanently become part of the Hive. On the plus side, we now know that people can have multiple powers. Those folded into the Hive share the mind-link plus whatever powers they came with. This revelation lead to a lot of greedy folks submitting themselves to the Hive for augments.\n\nMeanwhile, the people with no ink at all were powerless to resist The Hive.\n\nAnd now, it's a few of us and an entire world of Them." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A Romeo and Juliet style story, where a fedora-wearing neckbeard and an easily triggered tumblrinia fall in love, but the corresponding websites forbid their relationship." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "JULIET\n\n O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore types thou Romeo?\n Deny heteronormativity and refuse male privilege;\n Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my polysexual dragonkin,\n And I'll no longer be a Feminist.\n\nROMEO\n\n [Aside] Do I neg more, or do I post at this?\n\nJULIET\n\n 'Tis but thy gender-role that is my oppressor;\n Thou art my soulmate, and not a FratBoy.\n What's FratBoy? it is nor hand, nor foot,\n Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part\n Belonging to a man. O, if only you were a Bolshevik lesbian!\n What's in a socially-imposed label? that which we call a Prius\n By any other name would be as globally conscious;\n So Romeo would, had his sexist father not forced his mother to name him Romeo,\n Retain that perfect, though socially-structured, attractiveness which he owes\n Without that title. Romeo, go to the City Hall to have your name changed,\n And for that name which is no longer yours,\n Take my own name, as my professor said all strong womyn should demand.\n\nROMEO\n\n I take you at your word that you are not trying to spermtrap me:\n Call me your Gentleman, and I'll change my name, m'lady;\n Henceforth I never will be beta again.\n\nJULIET\n\n What creep is hiding in my parents' pot plants,\n Listening to me talk to myself?\n\nROMEO\n\n By a screenname\n I know not how to tell thee who I am:\n My name, m'lady, is hateful to myself,\n Because it is patriarchal;\n If I could change my screenname, I would change it immediately.\n\nJULIET\n\n I have stalked but for a minute\n Of your posting history, yet I know those subreddits and that karma:\n Art thou not Romeo and a RedPiller?\n\nROMEO\n\n Neither, glorious maiden, if either oppresses you.\n\nEDIT: RIP m'inbox\n\nEDIT2: Holy Hell, triple gold. Thanks!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A medieval village makes a human sacrifice to a werewolf that lives in the woods every year. This year they picked you, which is very awkward considering you're the werewolf." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The first full moon of the year. A crowd of people hoping this one will be better than the last, a collage of torches dotting a semi circle around the bloodstained post my hands were chained around. The torch fire struck the whites and yellows of teeth as the crowd jeered, the Baitsman's mouth agape in a crooked sneer as he drew a knife over my chest, drawing a shallow line of blood.\n\n\"Thankful are we to the Wolf!\"They howled. \"Humbled are we by the moon!\"\n\nIron cuffs rubbed across my wrists and I sighed. Weird way to show appreciation.\n\nA lightly jeweled man stepped out from the crowd to stand in front of me. Facing them and me, his back turned to the dark woods that lay ahead of me, the Baitsman prowled up beside him, a small bucket of my blood clasped in his offhand, and the still dripping knife held casually in his right.\n\nThe jeweled man turned to him, nodding, and the Baitsman turned - walking off calmy toward the woods. Silence blanketed the crowd.\n\n\"The Baitsman has begun to lay the trail, the offering is prepared. Soon the moon will be full and another year shall begin, a year kinder than the last!\"\n\nThe crowd roared in approval, I rolled my eyes. The mayor was a particularly juicy looking man who was living proof I'd no control of the Wolf. If I could control it, direct it, even give it the faintest nudge then I'd have sent it up through his bedroom window years ago. Human sacrifice, like the Wolf could get full - decide that maybe one was enough, for tonight. Like he'd be satisfied, content, not at all inclined to sniff out the source of a baby's cries, not at all motivated to tear through its parents once it finds the basement.\n\nA gust of cold wind shook the torchlight around me, a swarm of firefly embers soaring off the flames. People turned up to the moon, dissolving into view as thin clouds parted above.\n\n\"The time has come!\"The mayor announced, his jewels clacking together as he raised his hands in vigor. Behind him the Baitsman approached from the dense wood, his bucket now empty no doubt and his knife wiped clean.\n\n\"Away! So that the sacrifice can be made, away! Thankful are we to the Wolf!\"\n\n\"Humbled are we by the moon!\"\n\nWet mud stuck and squelched as the murder procession turned back to their houses. The Mayor walking past me near last, unable to match my eyes with nothing but a quick disgusted glance at my bared and bloodied chest coming my direction. The Baitsman left last, patiently with no worry, clasping a strong hand on my shoulder as he trudged past his head nor his eyes turning to pay me any mind. \n\nThen I was alone. The cold biting at me, the iron driving into the cracking skin on my wrists. Moonlight shining down. I'd done so well, been so careful. Averted all suspicion taken every precaution, stayed here amongst them - in my home - for years. Every witch hunt and every paranoid village meeting I'd survived with noone the wiser, but I can't charm a lottery.\n\nMy body cracks. I creak, my spine bends - I feel my fingers break. My gums bleed as my teeth are forced out of my head with sharper, longer ones pushing through - my toes curl in agony, stretching and snapping. The iron chain holding me pulls tight as my body contorts, I'm snapped back with my neck aching upward, toward the moon, and as I howl a red fog pours into my mind - my last waking thought being the image of jewels. Jewels smacking against each other with every exaggerated motion, every gentle and unsure step around the chaining pole, a fat, juicy man who wasn't able to look me in the eye - ready to be humbled by the moon." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The longer you charge an attack, the more powerful it becomes. SWAT charges a punch for 30 seconds to break down a door. You’ve been charging for the last three days." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Games make it look so easy. Just hold your arm in one place for a few seconds, screw up your face in concentration, then punch forward and release. Simple, right?\n\nThat's what Sam thought too, a few months back. When the discovery of charge attacks became worldwide, every kid in his class tried it. It was honestly hilarious, to see a whole group of middle-schoolers stand out in the yard during breaktime, holding and punching in the hopes of releasing a shockwave, like the guy on Youtube had done.\n\nA few occasionally managed a small blast, enough to blow someone's hair back. One in particularly actually managed to knock the girl in front of her off her feet. Emma, was that her name? Sam couldn't be bothered, really. She'd been one of the quiet ones, the girls that aren't part of a gaggle and just don't attract attention to themselves. Even the loner boys desperate for female attention hardly noticed her. She wasn't noticeable, not even to Sam.\n\nWhen she knocked another girl off her feet, she briefly became the center of attention. Everyone begged her to do it again, and so she did. Nothing happened, though. No more shock-wave, just a fluke. If she hadn't been standing at the back they probably would've turned to the one behind her instead, believing her result to be fake, even though they now knew for sure that the newly-dubbed 'Shock-Punch' was real.\n\nThey still didn't have a clue what made it happen, though, and the guy on Youtube that had released it (anonymously, which was very clever of him) had not posted a tutorial video or anything.\n\nSam knew. It had taken a few days of meticulous experimentation in his back yard, but that's what he'd always been: Meticulous.\n\nSo much so, in fact, that he tended to notice things everyone else looked past. The kids in his class, the teachers in the staff room during break, the school director, they were all terrible at noticing the small details. Even if they caused it.\n\nHe'd noticed, Sam had. Noticed the slow but steady rate at which his pay was falling behind the rest of the teachers'. Noticed how he always ended the day with the most bothersome classes. The ones that wouldn't listen or even attempt to sit quietly for so much as the minute or two it took to give homework. The ones where he had to resort to his specially-tuned dog whistle, just audible to teenage ears. And even that only shut them up on good days. On bad days they just made more noise still.\n\nSo Sam had sacrificed a few sick-days to the new opportunity. The trick, when he realized, was so incredibly simple. It wasn't about how you held your arm at all. Nor was it about how you moved it. What you really had to do was keep your muscles tensed in the *exact* same position for at least 10 seconds. Sounds easy, right? Go ahead, tense all the muscles in your arm. Now, don't shake that arm. No, even those little tremors will mess it up, you have to keep it *perfectly* still. And when you're ready to release, it has to be one smooth motion. Oh, and good luck keeping that up for more than a few minutes. Hope you're not afraid of a little acid in your muscles.\n\nWhen he started delving into the reasons for how it worked, Sam discovered something else. The more muscles you tensed this way, the stronger the blast and the faster it grew. That explained how some kids could manage weak shock-waves despite their trembling arms. If you keep just one muscle steady for 30 seconds, you get a noticeable shock-wave.\n\nAfter his sick days ran out, Sam returned to work, with his arm in a sling. A few basic \"get well soon's\"from his coworkers, as if they hadn't noticed how he'd fallen from grace in the eyes of the director, for no particular reason. A few simple lessons, punctuated by lots of shouting and random gusts of air every break, and often in the few minutes between lessons too.\n\nThen, the final class. D3, the class of the rebounds. The kids who couldn't give a damn about their grades but still weren't expelled, because by the laws of a decade ago you couldn't expel a kid for anything other than a very select list of serious offenses. Otherwise, you had to keep them on while enrolled until they left of their own volition.\n\nSam walked into the classroom to the usual ruckus, except now there were some gusts of winds flying everywhere. Knowing how his future at the school would go, and deciding it was completely worth it, Sam removed his sling with his right hand.\n\nHe looked across the chaos of the classroom, searching for the one face he knew would be turned in his direction. He still wasn't sure why Emma had ended up in this class last semester, but it must've been because her grades had prevented her from advancing.\n\nNow, he caught her eye, held it for a few moments, then looked straight ahead.\n\nWith a single flawless arc, his left arm flew towards the windows on the outside of the school building. The resulting shock-wave blew out the windows in a shatter of glass shards so small they might as well be raindrops, then continued into the woods at the edge of the school grounds, shredding the first few layers of trees at the edge.\n\nIn the stunned silence of the first few seconds following that move, he cleared his throat. \"Now, shut the FUCK up and listen\". As he began his new lesson, the fire alarm went off, and the rest of the school plunged into the chaos of panic usually reserved for bomb threats.\n\nFor once, class D3 was the quietest in the whole building.\n\n​\n\nLet me know what you thought of it. If enough people want me to, I might write a sequel (in a day or two)\n\nEDIT: Due to almost exclusively positive response (the remainder being neutral), I'll be writing more. Now to just find a time and place. Also edited tiny inconsistency (thanks, /u/SanityContagion)\n\nThe story continues in /r/IvainirCreation. It's not done yet, but I want the first 'true' chapter to be at least 2000 words long (twice as long as this one)." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Every 10 years, you are expected to go to a meeting you have already been to; one attended by several future and younger versions of yourself, each version separated by 10 year intervals. The youngest you is 10, the oldest 90. You relive the same meeting, just each time from a different angle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "***Year 10:***\n\nI entered a room with 9 sets of chairs that were set out to make a circle. On each one of them sat a person with a signs in front of them with number that went from 10 – 90.\n\nIt seemed like I was the last person to come.\n\nThey all looked at me as I went down to take my seat in the number ten chair.\n\nThe man with the 40 number started off the meeting with complaining, shouting and starting angrily saying a lot of words that I didn’t understand.\n\nHe seemed to be especially angry at 30. They both started arguing and 30 ended up leaving.\n\n60 and 70 tried to talk him in to calm down, but he only got angrier and then slammed the door as he went outside.\n\nThe room was full of silence after that, and then 20 got up and said that he was busy and that he had better things to do than waste time here, right before leaving the room.\n\nAfter that the other people in the room started talking about some stuff like marriage and will to live, but I wasn’t really interested in adult talk. I daydreamed about my Gameboy that I left behind at home. I wanted to go back home to play Pokémon.\n\nI dozed off for the rest of the meeting, but when my mind came back I realized the only ones that were left were 80, 90 and i.\n\nNow that I looked at 90 I noticed that he had tubes attached all around his body and that his chair was actually a wheelchair.\n\n80 stood up and came towards me and opened his palm to reveal a piece of candy, which he then gave to me.\n\nHe patted by head and said as he started coughing: “You are a good boy, Isaac. Do what you wish with your life, for it is the only one you have.”\n\nThen he started walking towards the door.\n\n“I want to go play pokemon on my Gameboy.”\n\nHe looked back at me and smile.\n\n“Go do that then.” Then he walked out.\n\nI was now left with 90 who was in the wheelchair.\n\nHe seemed like he was too old and tired to talk, but then when I stood up to walk out he whispered:\n\n“I play pokemon with my Gameboy. Wanna play together?”\n\n“Ye-Yea, sure.” I replied a bit crept out. “But I left mine at home, I promise to play with you the next time we meet.”\n\n“Promise?” He said as his breathing was visibly becoming louder.\n\n“Yes.”\n\nHe seemed content with that and I went out the room looking forward to playing more pokemon when I got home.\n\n​\n\n​\n\n***Note: I will post each year as a different part, so stay in tune.***" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "After several thousand years, the Greek gods awaken in the in the mid 1940’s. When the gods meet up to discuss what they had learned of the modern world, Ares walks into the room with a hollow and horrified look in his eyes, the day is August 6th, 1945.(Hiroshima)" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "[Part 2](https://reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/e65g09/ares_part_2/) is up!\n\nOnly Ares had yet to return to the Gallery of the Gods. There, the others feasted and downed jugs of mead and sent lightning bolts careening across the sky. Zeus' laughter thundered and Dionysus poured the table another flask. \n\nThen the clouds parted and the sunlight shimmered and the last of the family entered. Ares, eyes hollow and face horrified. A thousand-yard stare, as the mortals might say. \n\n\"Join us, brother,\"Aphrodite cooed, hoisting a jug towards him and batting her eyes. They were jovial, the lot of them, apart from the God of War who had just joined them. Unusually jovial, given the conflicts that plagued their fickle relationships.\n\nHe shook his head and stomped an armored boot. The harpists fell silent and the laughter died down. Eyes turned towards him, awaiting what destruction his words might wreak upon the fragile peace. \n\n\"We've brought about the end of times,\"he said simply, and then he collapsed into a chair dutifully pushed behind him. Together, Aphrodite and Artemis rushed to his side. Zeus stared cynically, and then he chuckled darkly. \n\n\"End of times, boy?\"he growled. \"Explain yourself, before we send you the way of the bastards.\"The cursed bastards, he didn't need to say. Sisyphus and his kind with tasks befitting the cursed. \"The end of times for us, or the end of times for...\"Zeus nodded towards the mortal world, and when Ares took a moment to respond he finally furrowed his brow and stroked his flowing white beard.\n\nAres shrugged to a cacophony of armor scraping on armor. \"Both, I figure,\"he remarked. \"Men will bring about the end of men.\"\n\n\"As the Oracle has told them,\"Hermes snarked. Ares shot him a dark glare and the impish god fell silent. \n\n\"They will also bring about the end of us,\"Ares finished. A gloved hand made a sweeping gesture that encompassed every single one of them in the room. \n\n\"How so?\"Zeus asked. He seemed amused still, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he humored Ares' musings. \n\nAgain Ares shrugged, and Aphrodite flinched at the sound and moved away. \"Something,\"Ares said vaguely. \"A whole city - larger than Athens, Sparta, both together even - wiped out in a moment.\"\n\nNow Zeus leaned forwards, brushing away the women clinging to his bulging arms. \"A whole city?\"he asked. Only a wayward lightning bolt dispatched by his own hand would have that power. But each time he threw one, he caught it, at least on this day. Ares nodded and Zeus stood. Crumbs from the feast fell from his lap. The others backed away, wary of his wrath. \"Show me,\"he growled.\n\nThe festivities didn't pick up again when the clouds closed behind Zeus and Ares. Instead, the suddenly apprehensive gods stared at each other in concern, guessing how long it would be before the demise began. Or perhaps it had already begun and unbeknownst to them their absence had heralded an age when gods no longer wielded more power than mortals.\n\n\"Utter devastation,\"Ares said simply when they stepped down into the wreckage of the city. The remnants of an island empire, not unlike that which had ruled over the Aegean Islands long ago. \n\nZeus looked around in awe. \"Flatter than Hera's br-\"He paused when he remembered his company. Ares said nothing in response, but toed a piece of wreckage to reveal the limbs of a dozen dead. \"Mortals did this,\"Zeus remarked. It was as much a question as it was a statement. \n\n\"Mortals did this,\"Ares confirmed. He stared at the king of the gods, seeking his guidance but knowing it was beyond the both of them. \n\n\"But,\"Zeus interrupted, ever the optimist if optimism was paired with laziness, \"what they have done in three thousand years, I can do in a moment.\"He nodded towards his lightning bolt but Ares shook his head. \n\n\"Come,\"he directed, leading Zeus past the epicenter of the destruction. Further out, flattened buildings took shape again and signs of life stirred. A stream of injured marched by, large sloughs of skin falling off their bodies. Their eyes were empty and some dropped as they walked. Emaciated corpses, stumbling as they evacuated. \n\n\"You can do that,\"Ares acknowledged, pointing back towards the flattened part of the city. Then he gestured at the rotting living, and at the way flecks of his own skin peeled off and fluttered to the ground. \"But they can do this.\"\n\n[Part 2](https://reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/e65g09/ares_part_2/) is up!\n\n*****\n\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": ": There's a guy who keeps hanging around your gang who doesn't seem to understand you're a criminal organisation. Nobody has the heart to tell him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rob often came with a smile, and a bag of donuts to my house. \"How's your day?\"he would ask, and we would answer, \"we robbed a drugstore, advanced on our bank robbery plans,\"to which he would nod, and after a short-lived, laugh would say, \"the usual, then.\"\n\nFrom then on, we would proceed to drink beers with him and the gang, speaking of our next big hit, and the security shifts at the bank. All the while, he would be smiling. Yes, even while he ate, he smiled; and when he spoke, he would speak of random things, like the ocean, or the beach.\n\nWe were convinced he was not right in the head, but he always brought donuts, and from time to time he would tell a good joke, and for that we were grateful.\n\nLast night, after many beers, we decided to finish perfecting our plan to rob the bank. Rob was there, yet he was half-asleep. Still, from time to time he would wake up, watch our hands, and if they were empty he would fill them with a new beer. \n\nWe loved him for that.\n\nTwo days later, we were entering the bank. Masks on, guns hidden in our underwear. The guards were changing shifts. We had ten minutes to perform the whole robbery, and for us, that was plenty of time.\n\nWe broke in, pulled out our guns, raised them aloft. Tom made the usual speech for the people to calm down, and for the cashiers to give us small and unmarked bills only. And so, after the first screams faded away, the silence was absolute, and everyone was on the ground, covering their ears.\n\nI forded across the shallow ocean of people, inspecting their faces, and there I recognized the manager. I hoisted him to his feet, placed the muzzle on his temple. His sweat fell, sticking his hair to his forehead. He was nervous.\n\nPerfect.\n\nWhile the others filled the bags. I pulled the manager toward the great strongbox. He unlocked it after some back and forth, and I told him to remain on the ground, unless he wanted his kneecaps to be shot.\n\nIn the room behind the strongbox, they held the most valuable things inside small drawers that could only be opened with certain keys. We knew the 10th drawer had an enormous diamond inside. For this reason, we'd stolen the key a week ago. And so I went there, opened it--\n\nThe drawer didn't unlock. Fear crippled me. I shook it away, and tried again. It didn't work. Cursing under my breath, I bolted out of the room, and there, in the entrance, I found several pools of blood, and above them the corpses my friends.\n\nThere, standing amidst them, in a police uniform, was Rob. He was smiling, as he always was. Before I could properly aim, he shot me in the chest, and I fell to the ground, gasping, feeling the cold mantle of death envelop me.\n\nAt last, Rob passed beside me, kicked the gun away from my hand, and lifted my mask. \n\n\"I'm sorry,\"he said, then spoke in a terribly loud voice through his communicator, and moved toward the strongbox. \"I need backup at the Rischbury Bank right now.\"\n\nSeconds later, he passed beside me again, the alarms blaring in my ears. He looked at me, and opened his palm. There he had a small key. The key of the drawer. Smiling, he left, holding his chest.\n\nWhen the police trickled in, he simply walked out the door, and they arrested me immediately.\n\nSoon after, having barely survived, my lawyer told me the diamond had been stolen, and they didn't have the slightest clue of who had done it, for the cameras had been hacked, and they hadn't recorded a thing.\n\n\"It was Rob Winchairlin,\"I shouted at the top of my lungs. \"That fucker. He stole the diamond.\"\n\n\"You have told us that already,\"my lawyer said, \"but I fear there's no one with that name in the police force, nor in the state.\"\n\n------------------------------\n\nr/NoahElowyn -- Consider checking my subreddit out! Fantasy is more of my thing, but you will find all sorts of stories there.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Two serial killers end up on a blind date together and both keep trying to find an oppurtunity to kill the other." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jack and Jill, out for a kill, on a seemingly innocent date. Neither one knew, that the other one too, planned to end their fate.\n\nJill was late, late for the date, when she lost control of the car. The tires were slashed, but there was no crash-Jack hadn’t planned that far.\n\nJack was fine, until his wine, had a lil’ something slipped in it. Then, thought Jill, she’d get her kill, but just a spill, and that was it.\n\nThey left there soon, past afternoon, when no light could be seen. Both thought then, how lucky they’d been, for the perfect time to do the deed.\n\nTwo knives were drawn, and each one saw, the same ideas within. Then, they both knew, the other one too, must be the same hidden.\n\nJack and Jill, out for a kill, on a seemingly innocent date. Neither one dead, when the date did end, and true love was found thanks to fate.\n\nEDIT: The story I told, it has earned me gold, and I don’t know what else to say. Like Jack with Jill, my spirit you filled. Thanks for making my day." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a powerful sorcerer. After years of searching, you have found the spell to summon the most dangerous demon in hell. When you perform the ritual, the cloud of smoke disperses to reveal your 3 years old golden retriever, Winston, staring at you. \"Well... this is awkward. Hi bob\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Swirling purple clouds of smoke spun like a whirlpool above the pentagram, the candles at its points flickering in the darkness. Inside, lightning seemed to flash through the fog, sending it reeling ever faster around and around.\n\n\"Demon!\"I cried, my voice breaking to be heard over its thundering roar. \"I summon thee from the depths of hell to do my bidding! Arise, accursed one! Burst forth to the land of the living from thy fiery depths, and bend thy malformed knee before me! I command thee, arise! Arise!\"\n\nDeep within the circle, an orange light began to glow, growing hot through the purple of the smoke. It grew and it grew, impossibly bright, till I squeezed my eyes against the dry, sulphurous heat. Then, with a final burst of lightning, the heat was gone, and the pentagram stood clear. In the middle, was...\n\n\"*Winston?*\"\n\nWinston. My Labrador, Winston. I had summoned the most dangerous demon in hell, and it was...\n\n\"*Winston?* Fucking Winston?! What the hell is this?\"\n\nWinston lowered his head, apologetically.\n\n\"Ah, yeeeaaah. Awkward. Hi Bob.\"\n\nI stared, uncomprehending. He continued.\n\n\"Soooo. The boys downstairs saw that you were kind of a big deal, with your sorcery and stuff. They sent me up to keep an eye on you 3 years ago. At first it was just a job, you know? I figured, if things got a little hairy, I could always eat your soul and kill your children, but - I don't know - things just changed, man. I changed. I mean, I could reach inside the soft cerebellum of your mind and just squeeze, forever ending the feeble frailty of your weak human existence. I could drown you in a crescendo of nightmares - a miasma of despair in a silent eternity of misery. I could take your family, subjugate your race, and conquer the world, crushing you beneath the power of my paws.\n\nBuuut... I really just want to be a Good Boy.\"\n\nHe looked at me, sadly. I looked back.\n\n\"You... you are a good boy,\"I said quietly. Winston's tail wagged just a little bit.\n\n\"Cool, cool. You, erm... you wanna go out for a walk?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\"I replied. \n\n\"Let's go walkies.\"\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You went into your families fall out shelter at 6. You learned everything about being self sufficient until at the age of 12 when your parents went to check what has become above. They never returned. The plan was you stay below until you turn 25. Tonight, you turn 25 and tomorrow above awaits." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wouldn't imagine there is a single person on the planet who understands the anticipation of someone who's lived underground for 19 years. Even the simplest things like the look of sunlight or the feeling of a breeze, these existed in me only as the faintest of memories.\n\nBut all of that was about to change today. Well, maybe. Hopefully. If the world hadn't been blasted into an endless desert wasteland. Ever since my parents left for the surface and never returned, this is of course what I've most feared.\n\nI stood there at the top of the staircase, in front of that thick metal door, dressed in full fallout gear. A strange hesitation had fallen over me. Could I really go through with this? I'd fantasized about this day so many times, but I never expected this much anxiety.\n\n'My world is about to change forever, and there's only one way to find out.'\n\nI reached for the handle, a round metal wheel much like the type one might see on a bank vault. For years this wheel stared at me coldly like a stoic gatekeeper standing between me and my freedom, but today it was finally going to let me pass.\n\nI slowly twisted it round, as if to savor every moment of this new and unfamiliar feeling. I cracked the door open, and a light brighter than any I could remember shone in from the outside. I shielded my eyes and stepped forward into the uncertain mystery.\n\nI was able to hear before I was able to see. In front of me I heard a series of shouts, \"Mona Lisa! Leonardo Da Vinci!\"\n\nI was confused. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that I was standing in a room of some sort. It was brightly lit from the daylight spilling in from windows on all sides. In front of me were 6 people in pastel-colored clothing. A man was standing in front of a board of some sort, a man who looked somewhat familiar. The other people were sitting in a circle around him, looking up at him and away from me.\n\nAlmost exactly at the moment that I saw this scene, the standing man saw me. He dropped the marker that he held in his hand and stared in shock. The others, seeing his expression, turned around and all stared at me.\n\nAlongside my eyesight adjusting, little pieces of information started to click with me, one at a time.\n\n'Oh my god there are people alive up here!'\n\n'This room looks familiar, I think it's my living room.'\n\n'Ok that is definitely my dad, and that's my mom!'\n\n'Wait, what the hell is going on here?'\n\nThe man who was standing at the board, whom I now recognized as my dad (but clean-shaven), was the first to speak.\n\n\"Oh my lord, it is the 22nd of February isn't it?\"He looked over to the woman sitting to his left, whom I now saw was my mom. \"Martha, it's her birthday!\"\n\n\"Oh Carl, this is splendid!\"She replied, and ran over to embrace me, followed closely by my father. I stood there, speechless, happy to be above ground but still very confused.\n\n\"Come along,\"my dad said as he pulled me and the rest of the group into another room. \"Let's have some cocktails to celebrate!\"\n\nAt this point, it was dawning on me that no one else was wearing a radiation suit. \"Mom, are we safe up here?\"I gingerly and quietly asked her.\n\n\"Why of course we are, dear, it's perfectly safe. You have no need of all that nonsense.\"She began to pull off my helmet, and at first I instinctively backed away in fear before allowing her to remove it.\n\nYes, the air up here smelled fresh and felt great, a thousand times better than that stale air in the bunker.\n\nAnd yet, things still didn't add up. Have my parents been up here, only feet away from the bunker, this whole time?\n\nAs my dad passed me a glass of some unknown fizzy drink with a green umbrella sticking out of it, I finally built up the nerve to ask, \"You guys, I don't understand what is going on? I thought a nuclear bomb destroyed everything, but everything looks fine. You guys look fine. I've been down there for over a decade.\"\n\nMy mom walked over and put her arm around me. \"Darling, I totally understand. Let me explain.\"\n\nShe sat me down at the dining room table nearby, and the others gathered around. \"Well, you already know that Carl and I got married very young. I was only 17, not even out of high school. We had our whole lives ahead of us, and the fact is that neither of us were really ready to be parents.\"\n\n\"I mean, neither of us had even been to Cancun!\"my dad added.\n\n\"But at the same time, dear,\"mom continued, \"neither of us would dare terminate a pregnancy or put you up for adoption. We would never do something so cruel, those choices were just out of the question. Well, we finally decided that the best course of action was to put a little fun and adventure into your childhood and pretend that the world had been destroyed in a nuclear war. As long as we kept sending food down there and keeping your air relatively clean, you would grow up safe and we could live out our lives up here until a time when we were ready to be parents.\"\n\n\"Which we decided\"my dad chimed in, \"would be on your 25th birthday.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"Wait. Wait wait wait. So civilization was never decimated in a nuclear holocaust?\"\n\nMy mom shook her head, a big smile on her freshly powdered face. \"No honey, isn't that great?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Tell the tale of Vault 69, which had 999 women and one man. Alternatively, tell the tale of Vault 68, which had 999 men and one woman." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There are six hundred and twelve rooms in the world. It might seem like a lot, but that's six hundred and twelve rooms for a thousand people, especially when there are eighty kitchens, forty bathing facilities, and one room which opens up only once a day with supplies.\n\nThe last room? That one's mine. It's the biggest room, and is the only one with a lockable door.\n\nWe all woke up here with no memories of any prior world. We remembered our names, how to read and write, stuff like that. But other than that? Nothing. My name is Gerald Howzer. That took me a while to remember. I also remembered that I shouldn't be naked. I walked around, and saw women scrambling around. There was some panic, some arguing, and others just efficiently looking around. They were naked too.\n\nThe women were aged twelve to fifty five. All colors, shapes, and sizes. Within a week, I had a lover. She was named Marcella, a beautiful woman with an accent I felt I should be able to place. Within a month, we lived in my room, at the time on the ground floor out of the ten. It had great lighting, and a comfortable bed. A week later, Marcella was dead. Fell off the tenth floor railing.\n\nEveryone knew she was pushed. That's when the government started. Rationing out food fairly helped. Nightly patrols, to keep the peace. A legal system, with the lockable room used as a prison. I was a judge. Judge Howzer. Somehow it felt natural.\n\nOf course, there were some troubles. Yes, I took lovers, keeping it casual. After a few months, one of the women was pregnant. It really didn't take a genius to figure who was the father. I was actually proud. Jamie, gorgeous little thing. At seventeen, and with all the enthusiasm in the world. She was beaten to death within a day once the rumor got out.\n\nThis time the killer was caught. The trial was pandemonium. She said that it's unfair. She wanted to be a mother too, but I turned her down. Why should all the pretty ones get a chance to be mothers, while the rest were to not be allowed even that? She was locked away for being a murderer. Everyone hated her.\n\nBut her words took root.\n\nIt took a year, but the revolution happened. The current regime solved all the issues. I now live in a lockable room. They lock it from the outside. Every day I get two to five visits. Until the woman is satisfied, I don't get water or food. I tried to resist, but they punished me. I don't want to talk about that.\n\nI've been having sex with everything. I felt unclean the first time a twelve year old girl came. By the time the woman in her fifties came, I didn't even bat an eye. My body was used to working on demand. I remember Marcella a lot lately. We'd talk. I made her laugh. She made me smile. In a perfect world, we'd still be in our room, maybe raising a child. I've never met a child of mine.\n\nI've been in this room for ten years now. A few of the women talk to me. Most don't, or address me as \"you\"and then dole out commands. From what I understand, it's fairly peaceful. We're six hundred and ninety strong. Eighty three of those are my children. The boys have all vanished. The insanity that followed that caused a lot of deaths.\n\nSomeone should be coming soon, and I must put back this journal back into it's hiding place. For what it's worth, I'm sorry Marcella. I'm sorry Jamie. To all my daughters, know that my biggest fear is the day when you walk through that door. I love you all." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Humans are the proverbial \"Sleeping Giant,\"and thus make remarkably good deterrents. A common tactic of the Galactic Federation is to simply call in a human warship, such as the USS \"Fuck Around and, FindOut,\"and simply let it sit nearby. Peace Talks happen within the week." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I'm sure you heard the general concept before.\n\nWe finally reached the stars. We met alien life; a Galactic Community, even! They took a quick glance at our history and came to an uncomfortable realization.\n\n*These hairless primates spent a* ***lot*** *of time killing each other. We'd rather not see them unite and fight one of us.*\n\nWe were nevertheless received quite warmly by the Galactic Federation and became a rather premiere peacekeeping force. We didn't mind; we were able to get past our infighting some time ago, and this was a nice change of pace. We didn't have to fight anymore, but... a small, primal part of us was never able to give it up. Our ships were inevitably built for the *possibility* of combat. Something we did so much it was a part of us, no matter how peaceful we tried to be. 'Sleeping Giants' we were sometimes called; a nice reference to our own myths.\n\nBut, every now and then, someone wakes us up.\n\n....................\n\n\"Mothership Theta, come in,\"I said into the communicator. A screen in front of me flashed to life as my call was received; the head of security for the sector was on the other side. He... she... they were an interesting alien, that - far less humanlike than we expected in our media. They looked more like an amoeba.\n\n\"mOtHErSHI-SHiP Th-ThETa,\"the alien responded. I smacked the communicator a couple of times to fix the translation protocols. \"Hear you loud and clear,\"the alien continued; this time in perfect English.\n\n\"This is USS Fuck Around. We swung by the Khalio sector as you requested. The intel was on point; some ji'nee warships - *if you can call them that*,\"I added under my breath, \"were gathering near the Sigma 3X moon. All signs indicate they were planning a raid on the refineries.\"\n\n\"I see. And?\"\n\n\"They were persuaded not to,\"I replied in an almost bored tone.\n\n\"Excellent. Where did they go afterwards? We should probably keep an eye on them.\"\n\n\"Oh, uh...\"I said and scratched behind my neck. \"They're still orbiting the moon.\"\n\nA moment of uneasy silence followed as the alien pressed several buttons; I assumed to bring up the scans of the area.\n\n\"USS Fuck Around, please repeat. We have no signatures of any ships in that area.\"\n\n\"Yeah... I think you'll need extra magnification on those scans.\"\n\n\"What for?\"\n\n\"To see the bodies floating in space,\"I said and inspected my fingernails.\n\nThere was a perceivable blurb of unknown noise coming from the alien. Not something that could be translated. Not something that *needed* to be translated.\n\n\"...oh,\"the alien finally said.\n\n\"I can provide logs that clearly show they shot first.\"\n\n\"That... won't be necessary, captain. Your reputation is reliable enough.\"\n\n\"As you wish. Do you have another assignment for us?\"\n\n\"Not at the moment, captain. But - may I ask a question? A personal one, not in an official capacity,\"the alien said carefully.\n\n\"Sure!\"I said and sat up straight in my chair. It was a nice change of pace from the cold, detached exchanges or orders.\n\n\"Why is your ship called 'Fuck Around'? I believe that is a slur in your tongue, is it not?\"the alien said and slightly tilted its... upper half.\n\n\"Ah,\"I chuckled. \"Short for 'Fuck Around, Find Out'. An Earth saying of sorts. One the ji'nee ships were *clearly* not familiar with. It means that if you fuck around - meaning to behave improperly in a risky manner - you will find out.\"\n\n\"Find out what, captain?\"\n\n\"Why you don't fuck around.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: \"I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week.\"One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boris crossed his arms and gave me a confused expression.\n\n\"You want me to do WHAT?\"\n\nI repeated myself, speaking slowly and with confidence.\n\n\"...You see, it has been rumored that it could not be done. That is was impossible to begin with. This man... he is immovable. Thousands, no, millions have petitioned this man for this thing. But imagine the ramifications... fortunes won and lost on the stock market. Mass chaos. It'd break the internet and stop the economy in its tracks for WEEKS! If you do this, you will be remembered in SONG!\"\n\n\"And all I have to do is... ensure this comes to production?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And this man... Military? Government?\"\n\n\"Neither. Civilian. Though he has his hands in the counter-terrorism business.\"\n\n\"This does not seem difficult.\"\n\n\"I have his number. If you can convince him to do it over a single call, I shall pay you five hundred million Euros.\"\n\nBoris smiled, reaching for my phone, \"And so it shall be done.\"\n\nHe takes it, dials the number. His arrogant smirk lasts for a few moments. Then it turns bemused as his first offer gets turned down. By the time he starts making his threats, his face is red with anger. He gets hung up on shortly after. He hands back the phone, fuming.\n\n\"Now, now it is a matter of PRIDE!\"He whips out his own phone and makes a handful of calls in a cold fury. He snaps his phone closed in triumph, \"We shall see at the end of the day who the greater man is. Ha! Nobody remains my enemy for long!\"\n\nI smile and sip on my bourbon.\n\nThree days later, Gabe Newell, founder of Valve, holds a press conference before a crowd of hundreds of gaming reporters. He's somewhat more gaunt than last reported, with stage makeup that barely hid mild bruising on his face and arms. It looked like he'd barely slept. He weakly holds up his hands and proclaims in a shaky voice: \n\n\"Half-Life 3 CONFIRMED!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call \"Retribution\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The \"battle\"for Ashar was over in approximately 10 standard minutes. The Spurge, who we thought were allies, used our own security codes to disable Ashar's predictive defense system. The colony, along with its 100 million inhabitants, didn't stand a chance against the attack that followed. The Spurge quietly wiped the colony with neutron bombs, and now have control of the Tavarsk system. They quickly informed us of the battle, their plans to maintain control of the system, and gave us advice - like we are some children to be lectured - be careful who you trust. \n\nUnfortunately for them, we did not reciprocate their \"helpful advice\". We did not mention that, unlike them, humans have been waging war for as long as we have existed. Of course our history is no secret, hardly anything *can* be a secret with the technology around, but only the few Spurge that have worked closely with us truly understand the mistake they have made. Only they know what we will to do protect the ones we love, and avenge the ones we lost.\n\nWe've suffered and survived countless empires, four world wars, and even a solar civil war. Not only that, but we glorify our greatest warriors and generals - from Sun Tzu to George Patton. Ghengis Kahn to Alexander the Great. Ragnar Lothbrok to Edward \"Blackbeard\"Teach. Even our myths and legends revolve around violent warriors: Achilles, Aragorn, Rocky Balboa, James Bond, the Avengers, the list goes on.\n\nAs I stand here now, commanding a fleet of over 20,000 star ships, I can feel my connection to my forefathers. I share their apprehension and excitement at what will happen next. Napoleon guides me as I maneuver our ships to begin the orbital bombardment of their outer systems. I channel Hannibal as our fighters lie in the shadow of their moons to obliterate any resistance they send. I hear Caesar in my head while I give the pre-battle speech, convincing my soldiers that these barbarians need to be put down. And most closely, I share the burden of total annihilation with Dwight Eisenhower, as thousands of Planet Busting railguns take aim and fire towards every known Spurge planet. \n\nThe loss of Ashar was sad. The loss of the Spurge will be tragic. However, I fear that the introduction of total warfare to space is even worse. Other races will take notice. There will be no more pretense of \"quick and painless\"war. No more innocence after violence. It may be unforgivable, but that is not my job to figure out. For now, my job is to watch the fireworks." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In the post-apocalypse, you have a radio station, and regularly talked with a person at another radio station who you believe was the only other survivor. One day, that person stopped responding. Years later, your radio crackles to life and you hear: “Sorry for not responding, but I’m back.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Alex, are --u still th--\"\n\nThe crackle of static stabs at the silence, the blade tip running down my back. My body tenses, fingers white as they press against the book's pages. But I'm perfectly hushed. Waiting to see if it comes again.\n\n\"-- sorry that ---- -- but --- --\"\n\nI throw the book to the floor and scramble out of my chair, almost slipping on the cold steel, racing towards the radio set, as if it might finally die after all these years, if I don't reach it instantly.\n\nThe voice the other end. Casey. Where's she been? How many years have I been waiting, praying to God that she wasn't dead. That they didn't find her and... \n\nMy finger finds the button instinctively. Muscle memory. I grasp the mic between both hands. \"Casey?! Is that you? Are you okay?\"My chest heaves like I've just done an hour on the bike. \n\nNothing. No reply.\n\n\"Casey?\"My voice is pleading. Desperate. The loneliness of being stuck in a rusting tin fifty feet beneath the fucking ground, alone for the better part of a decade, channels itself into a trebling of my arms, a rattling of the mic. \"Please. Please, please, please!\"\n\nNot even the buzz of static. Nothing is being transmitted.\n\nA breath escapes me, my shoulders hunch. \n\nCasey, all that time ago -- and just for just a few weeks -- had become my skylight to gaze out through this loneliness. A view of the stars and the sun and all the things I'd left behind when I'd sealed myself into this tiny room -- after the men in hazmat suits had hurried me down. A room stacked with cans of food, a bed, a manual exercise bike, but mostly, misery.\n\nI'd gotten sick at work. That had been my last day outside of here. Lots of people were getting sick that day. Vomiting. I was rushed into an ambulance before everything went dark.\n\nOnce I'd regained consciousness the hazmats had taken me away. To here.\n\nThey'd talked to me over the radio, at least for a while. A month or so. Updating me on what had happened, and how our battle with Mother Nature had been lost. Until... Until they were one by one hunted down, or changed. \n\nLeaving me here, alone. \n\nFor the longest time, I thought I was one of the unlucky ones. A survivor. Then, her voice had shattered the darkness.\n\nFor those few weeks with Casey, back when I had been at my very lowest ebb, we both lost ourselves in the companionship. In stories of times before we'd been locked in our cages. Before they'd tried to solve climate change with more fucking gasses, before everything below the clouds had gone to shit. \n\nWe talked of mundane stuff. Of families and Christmases, gardening and wines, of all the stuff we'd never have again.\n\nWe talked each other to sleep. And we talked when we woke. And although it wasn't much -- a voice -- in a life of nothing, just that small something was enough to make you want to cling onto living. It was a reason.\n\nThen, one morning, my reason was gone.\n\n\"Alex, -- shouldn't be spe--- but ------\"\n\n\"Casey! I can't hear you properly. You're cutting out.\"I twist and turn the nobs as the static turns into a whistle. Then, finally, it clears.\"\n\n\"--- was just an experiment, Alex. I should have told you. But they ---\"\n\n\"What? What was an experiment, Casey? The Cloud Killer?\"\n\n\"--- ----- was no Cloud Killer. You're the ---------\"\n\nI shake my head and grin stupidly. \"Casey, the Cloud Killer did this. To all of us.\"\n\n\"Listen, Alex. They made me call you, three years ago -- -- --- suicidal. You wouldn't have ---- much longer. They --- --- you to have a reason to go on.\"\n\nA cold sweat works its way up onto my forehead. A thin pool of wet. I swallow back her joke. \"Casey, that's not what happened.\"\n\n\"Listen! ---- parents are still alive. Everyone is. Alex, I nee--- to tell you, the guilt was consuming me, but... you still can't open the door. Shit, I've got to go, I ---- them. They're on their way. But you can't leave, or they will kill you. Both of us. I'm so ------ Alex.\"\n\nThe radio dies again. \n\nSilence.\n\n\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n \n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wake up.\"\n\nHeat radiated against one side of my face. Weird. Did I leave the electric blanket on again?\n\n\"Wake up, Dr. Beckman.\"\n\nI opened my eyes. Blurred shapes resolved themselves so poorly into glowing red and moving sepia shadows that I just closed my eyes again. I hated dreams like this; they inevitably made me late for work as I repeatedly failed to actually wake up.\n\nIcy water sluiced over my head. I rocketed upright with a shriek, scrubbing at my face. My bare feet stood on an unfamiliar stone floor. I froze.\n\n\"That's right. Up you get.\"\n\nSuddenly, I knew that voice. \"Fuck me.\"\n\n\"That language is unnecessary, Dr. Beckman.\"Maximilian MacMalus--Mad Max--sat comfortably on a rolling stool near the cot on which I had lain, now dripping with water some henchman had tossed at me. My pajamas were soaked, but I was not cold; they even steamed a little on the side facing the window that overlooked a cauldron of magma, incalescent in hues of red and orange. I stepped closer to the window, without touching the transparent material--not glass, couldn't be glass at that temperature exposure--that separated us from the active caldera. It would have burned my fingers off.\n\n\"I suppose you're wondering why I've brought you here.\"\n\n\"Generally? No. Specifically? Yes.\"I turned away from the window and sat down on the cot with as much dignity as I could muster. It squelched. \"You need my help.\"\n\nHe smiled and toyed with the head of his cane. I had no doubt it was some sort of sword, or blow-dart, or cattle prod, or something that released poisonous gas. The real surprise would be if it was just a dumb stick, its only threat that of ordinary blunt force trauma. \"I do, Dr. Beckman. Mad Max finds himself in need of a mad scientist.\"\n\n\"In that case, get fucked,\"I replied amiably. \"I'm an engineer.\"\n\nHe cocked his head to the side. \"Is there a difference?\"\n\n\"The fact that you're even asking me that tells me how badly you need my help. Fortunately for you, you do in fact need an engineer, not a scientist. Unless you're planning on initiating a mad study with mad variables and a mad control group, rather than building some sort of doomsday device as I suspect.\"\n\nHis smile grew wider. \"How perspicacious of you.\"He gestured at his henchman, who rolled forward a bar cart. \"I'm not drinking whatever the hell you're offering,\"I said at once.\n\n\"I think you'll find you quite like it, my dear.\"\n\n\"Oh god dammit--it's the antidote to something else you've already administered, isn't it?\"I held out a hand. \"I'll take a double.\"\n\nHe laughed and gestured for the henchman to start pouring. \"You're not what I expected, Dr. Beckman.\"\n\n\"The filthy fucking mouth?\"I took a sip. \"Oh this is good. What is it?\"\n\nHe didn't answer. \"I took the liberty of outfitting your suite with a wardrobe and sundries.\"He didn't leer, but the leer was implicit.\n\n\"Better be jeans and sneakers.\"I took a larger swig. \"I only wear a suit and heels for air force design reviews. And if I find a single fucking sequined low-back cocktail dress or some shit in there, I'll shove it up your ass.\"I drained the drink and slammed it down on the bar cart. \"What's your schedule?\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"You project schedule. Whatever the fuck this thing is--you need it by when?\"\n\nThis was the first time he seemed genuinely taken aback. \"Five years.\"\n\nI nodded. \"Well I'll be damned, that's probably reasonable. And this thing--we going underground? Underwater? Space?\"\n\n\"The dark side of the moon.\"\n\n\"Total misnomer--but OK, *far* side of the moon it is.\"\n\n\"I must say, Dr. Beckman, you're taking to this with more enthusiasm than I would have expected.\"\n\n\"Are you going to make me fill out a time card?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Will I be reporting to a safety advisory panel?\"\n\n\"You will not.\"\n\n\"What is my budget?\"\n\nHe smiled again. \"Unlimited.\"\n\nI smiled back. \"That's what I thought. Where can I get a towel?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are the result of a high school girl being given 3 wishes. She wished for the perfect boyfriend, so you were magically created. Now she’s trying to erase you because the boy next door loved her all along. She’s literally trying to kill you because “You never existed in the first place!”……" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You never existed in the first place!\"Rachel cried out as she pulled a butcher knife from the drawer.\n\n\"Neither did you!\"I said running around the kitchen island. \"You didn't exist until you did! That's the same thing with me. So what if a genie made me instead of a mom and a dad.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry Jacob,\"she said, hoisting the butcher knife, \"I really am. I never should've made that stupid wish. I have to get rid of you.\"\n\nShe threw the knife. It whirred past my head, and embedded in cabinet a cabinet door. As she reached down to grab another, I turned around and ran up the stairs. I opened the door to the bathroom and looked behind me. She was holding another knife, her hair was wild, and her eyes were filled with...with...some may call it anger, but I called it passion. Those fierce beautiful blue eyes.\n\n\"No,\"I shouted out loud as I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. Now was not the time to still be in love with her, but I couldn't help it. I was literally made for her.\n\n\"Jacob,\"she said from the other side of the door. \"Jacob, open the door please. I'm sorry about before. Open the door and I'll make it worth your while.\"\n\nMy first memory was Rachel. She was standing in the dusty old pawn shop near the genie as I burst into existence. I was immediately flooded with love for her. She was funny and smart, awkward and charming, she could switch from cute to sexy at the drop of a hat. And now it seemed like she could change from crazy to sexy at the drop of the same hat.\n\nIn spite of myself, or rather because I was myself. I opened the door expecting to find the woman of my dreams on the other side. She was there, but she was holding another knife. Fortunately for me, I was created with a well toned body and keen athleticism; I dodged out of the way as she swiped a knife through the opening of the door.\n\nI took a step back, and she shoved open the door.\n\n\"Look Rachel, my love. I know this isn't how you expected the night to go. Me either, \"I smirked. \"I know how you are feeling right now, but let me promise you something right now. Ricky, or Mickey, or whoever the hell that other guy is, he will never love you like I do.\"\n\n\"But he'll be real. Not just some imagined creation that a genie made to order. You're perfect!\"She screamed, \"it's horrible!\"\n\n\"Rachel, babe, come on, you're so kind and you're so smart. This doesn't make any sense.\"\n\n\"See? See you're doing it again.\"She said brandishing the knife and coming closer. \"You're being perfect. You should be calling the cops. You should be calling me batshit crazy, but instead you're trying to make me feel better. Do you know how that makes me feel?\"\n\n\"Um...better?\"\n\n\"Like shit!\"She said swinging the knife; I dodged out of the way, my back now against the wall. \"I feel like I could never deserve you. I know I could never deserve you. You were literally made to be perfect, and the rest of the world is only human. You can't exist. You shouldn't exist.\"She raised the knife up.\n\nI threw up my hands and cried out, \"but I do exist. I do! I'm real!\"I closed my eyes expecting to feel the knife any moment, but it never came.\n\nI opened my eyes. She lowered the knife.\n\n\"I've had a crush on Mickey since the first grade. He shared a bag of Cheez-its with me. I've loved him through middle school when wouldn't even look at me. I've loved him even when he loved someone else. And I still love him now.\"She put the knife down on the sink, and looked up at me. The fire in her eyes now replaced with a dull ache. \"When I asked the genie to make the perfect boyfriend for me, I wanted him to make Mickey. I wanted one for myself. One that could love me. But instead I got you.\"She buried her face in her hands and began to cry.\n\n\"Hey,\"I said taking a step closer to her. \"Hey, hey, it's okay.\"I put my arms around her as she sobbed into my chest. \n\n\"And now you're here, and you're perfect. But I still just want to be with him. What the hell is wrong with me?\"\n\n\"Rachel, come on nothing is wrong with you. You're perfect.\"\n\n\"No, you're perfect, that's the problem,\"she said into my perfectly sculpted chest.\n\nAs I understood it most men had to work out to achieve my physique. My muscles were toned without ever lifting a single dumbbell. I was just made that way. In a bank account under my name was fifteen thousand dollars, no matter how much I withdrew. I appeared eighteen years old, but was really on three months. My first memory was Rachel standing in a dusty pawn shop wearing jeans and a red hoodie. There was no past beyond that moment and no ambition for the future expect to be with her. To make her happy.\n\nHer tears soaked into my t-shirt. Clearly things had gone wrong.\n\n\"You asked the genie to make you the perfect boyfriend, right?\"I asked\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\"Well,\"I said, \"what do you think the perfect boyfriend would do in this situation?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"The woman I love is sobbing in the bathroom because she isn't happy. As your perfect boyfriend I want to see you happy, even if that means I have to let you be with some one imperfect. Someone that isn't quite as smart, someone that may break your heart one day, someone that, let's face it, will probably peak in high school.\"\n\n\"Jacob, I-\"\n\n\"It's okay,\"I said. I think we both understood what was going to happen next, after all I never existed in the first place. I was created to be the perfect boyfriend, so what happens when I stopped being a boyfriend? I smiled at her, kissed her on the forehead, and said \"I'm too good for you any way. Rachel. I'm breaking up with you.\"\n\nA moment later Rachel was alone in the bathroom." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You died and were sent to hell, but instead of getting escorted down to a specific level of hell, you're escorted straight to the Devil himself who looks mildly horrified while holding the file of your life in his hands." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You don't look surprised to be here.\"\n\nYou stare at your feet, offering no reply. What else is there left to say, at this point?\n\n\"You know what most people get wrong about the afterlife?\"The devil asks as he closes your file. \"They think they don't have any choice in the matter. That there's some kind of great cosmic judge who ultimately decides where you go when you die. But that isn't really so. The truth is... Well... Everyone goes where they *expect* to go.\"\n\nThe words shock you to your core as the implications slowly become clear to you. You look up at the devil. Surprisingly, he appears somewhat concerned.\n\n\"You're here because you think you deserve this. You really, *genuinely* believe you're a bad person. Why is that?\"The devil picks up your file again. \"I've handled some truly nasty cases in my time, and I've prided myself on giving them the punishments they think they deserve. But *you*? Come on... I mean, look at your file! You're not a bad person. Not really.\"\n\nThe devil sighs. It's a strange sight- you could swear he looks tired, and maybe even a bit sympathetic. He picks up the phone sitting on his desk and dials a number.\n\n\"Got another one, Pete. I'm sending them back up.\"He paused while the person on the other end spoke. \"No, no, it's nothing like that. I just think...\"He paused again. \"... I just think they're depressed. And that maybe they need another chance. I'm marking them for a do-over.\"As he speaks, the devil marks your file with a rubber stamp. It reads \"NOT YOUR TIME YET.\"\n\nYou begin to feel light, suddenly. Before you know it, you're floating- ascending toward something you can't see. As you rise, the devil calls out to you.\n\n\"Go easy on yourself this time, huh? If I see you back here again, I'm keeping you!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It happened the second night at my new apartment. I was in the laundry room, loading my washed clothes into the dryer, when I heard the strange yelp from behind me. I gave it no mind, since the faint childhood memory of my first and only dog told me it was just a big ol' doggy yawn. I made a mental note to check my lease regarding its pet policy as I finished loading the last armful into the dryer, then turned around to see who the good boy was.\n\nIt wasn't no good boy.\n\nIt was, well, a gosh dang werewolf is the only real way to describe it. It walked upright, its clothes were split open from the body's sheer bulk, with fur apparently coating its entire body from what I could tell of all the exposed area, and the big freakin' wolf head where you'd expect a regular person's head moved in such a way that you could never mistake it for a mask, especially watching it yawn again. It was tiredly poking at the little vending machine that distributed cheap packets of laundry soap, clothes basket tucked under one burly, fur-covered arm. \n\n\"Uh, hey,\"I said, giving a little wave. Perhaps not the smartest move to draw its attention, but it didn't seem to be in any feral, man-eating state, and on the off chance this was some elaborate hidden camera hoax, I didn't want to flail around like a jackass and get laughed at on national TV.\n\n\"Yo,\"the thing grumbled, giving a little nod of acknowledgement. \n\n\"I don't mean to pry,\"I said. \"But you've got, uh...\"I gestured toward him. \"A...thing going on?\"\n\nThe werewolf looked down at his torn clothing and general werewolfishness. \"Aw, damnit!\"it swore. \"Third time this year I lose track of the full moon! What IS it with this damned year?\"\n\n\"I heard that,\"I commiserated. \"But, like...this is real, right? And you don't go all...grr?\"\n\nThe werewolf sighed. \"Yes, this is real, and no, we don't go all 'grr'.\"You've never lived until you've seen a werewolf do sarcastic air quotes at you. \"Just because a bad apple here or there uses their condition to go all serial killer on people, everyone thinks we're all like that,\"he ranted, shaking his head in disgust. After a moment, he looked up at me with a low level of alarm. \"You won't tell anybody about this, will you?\"\n\n\"No, no!\"I said, holding my hands up. \"Wouldn't dream of it. Not really any of my business anyway.\"\n\nHis shoulders sagged in relief. \"Good. Last time somebody tried to blow my cover, I just told everybody that I was a furry, and that he originally met me at a yiff party.\"That brought out a great guffaw of laughter from me. \"I even have a tacky wolf suit in my closet if I have to prove it, too,\"he confided, drawing out even more cackles from me. \n\nOnce I recovered, I held out my hand. \"Brett, 2A.\"\n\nHe shook it. \"Steve, 3C.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Overnight, 99.9% of humans are rendered unable to tell lies. You, being part of the .1%, have avoided the ruthless persecution that liars faced in the wake of this event... so far." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone's a liar. Well, used to be anyways. Now theres only a few of us left with this curse. Most of us were caught pretty soon: the habitual liars, the fabricators, or just the fools who couldn't keep their mouths shut. I was never a big liar, so after the little bumps early on it wasn't a problem. I had to get used to all the little lies we say every day. I learned the \"How are you doing?\"and \"You busy?\"of everyday life can be a disaster if you aren't paying attention. But eventually, I got the hang of just keeping it simple. You can always tell the truth in a simple frame of mind, its how the truers get by with just a \"Could be better\".\n\nBut for me, I had another trick. I only bent the truth in my favor when I REALLY needed to. When I'm the last candidate for the job and I can look them straight in the eyes and say \"I'm the best man for this\". You see, the real trick to lying now is that's my trump card. \n\nExcept today I messed up. I should have paid better attention. Hell, theres a million things I should have done. But you see, its the smallest lies we tell ourselves, those are the real lies. You can't change those, no matter what stupid tricks you use. And I'm gonna have to live with this.\n\nThe world sure changed with all the truers running around. I wouldn't say things got better, but people sure did, but I could never figure it out. See, what I never noticed before is that I can still lie to myself. That's the most dangerous thing to do, and they can't anymore. When they say something, it is or will be. \n\nToday, all the pieces fell into place. I get it now. And I definitely should NOT have told my wife I'd clean the house. Its always the damn little things.\n\nEdit: First WP post, critique / advice welcome. And thanks for the fun prompt!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You can make a lie become truth, but only one lie at a time, once it is a lie again everyone involved will know immediately. You’re on your deathbed, holding one lie as truth for decades. You know hell will break loose once you die and the lie becomes a lie, and everybody will know." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I understood very little about how the world worked. My wife called me naïve, said I found it easier to always see the good in everything. In everyone. \nShe called me optimally optimistic.\n\nI always told her everyone was good inside. That was the gods’ honest truth.\nEveryone was good.\n\nIn our entire life together, through forty long years, the world grew peaceful. The wars of our youth ceased. Petty feuds and skirmishes ended. Crime slowed to a halt.\nPeople cheered each other in the street, complimented each other regularly. Doors were held open and children laughed with abandon.\nThe rich gave their wealth to the poor. Politicians told the truth and worked together to solve problems, not create them. \n\nPeople worried about the world. Would it last? They’d ask. \nThis golden age could not last forever. \nWe must have been balancing on the edge of a knife. If history was any indication, we would soon fall. \n\n“What if the world crumbles when we die?” My wife asked one night, curled up in bed. “What if jr grows old in a world like the past?”\n“You can’t think that way,” I said. “There’s plenty of good out there, in all of us. No one wants to lose that. We’re all just trying to keep our lives peaceful.” \n\nShe believed me, and she slept like a lamb. She always believed me.\n\nEver since that night, in the dark edge of the park. The dim lights flickering above the pavement as she jogged. The shadows growing larger until her feet brought her to where I waited, watching for her.\nI told her she was beautiful. \nIt was the truth. She was stunning.\nI told her I wanted her. \nShe backed away. \nI stopped her.\nDon’t go anywhere, I told her. \nDon’t scream.\nShe trembled, and she kicked. \nAnd she shuddered. \nAnd when I was done I told her: I’m not a bad guy. \nI promise. Im good. \nThere aren’t any bad guys out there, not on this night. Not ever. \n\nAnd somehow, she believed me. \n\nShe relaxed into me. \nAnd the world followed.\nEvery night I lied to her, and I held that lie so tight it bled into the rest of the humanity\nWe’re all good, always. \nI know it won’t last. It’ll end when I die. \nIf I die first, this dream I’ve created will unravel, and she’ll know me. What I did. \nAnd our world will turn to dust.\n\nPerhaps I am the only truly bad person. \nBut I won’t let her learn the truth. As she dies, I’ll look her in the eyes and convince us both that I’m a good man." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a fresh junior researcher at NASA. While out for drinks with your new boss, you jokingly ask her why NASA hasn't explored the ocean with its resources. She turns pale and leans in close, then whispers, \"We have. Why do you think we want to leave the planet so badly?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why do you think we want to leave the planet so badly?\"\n\nAt first I was sure she was having a laugh. It was a reasonable assumption, you know? I had only just been hired into NASA and I guess I figured maybe this was, like, their idea of hazing. Freak out the newbie, right? But my certainty in such a simple explanation wavered when the next day she pulled me away from my workstation and told me to go home and pack an overnight bag, and that she'd have me picked up at 7 the next morning. What?\n\nAnyways, I'll skip over the rest of the day, as it mostly consisted of me being confused and trying not to overthink the situation (news bulletin: I did). SO, seven AM. Black Lexus with a stranger in a suit and sunglasses waiting in front of my apartment, nothing ominous about that. Still no explanation, a rather unhelpful trend that continued upon meeting my boss at Reagan airport, through the tense (but first class, awyeah) flight to Seattle, and for the duration of the drive to wherever we were going after we were picked up by another immaculate black sedan driven by another stiff-jawed chatty Cathy with an earpiece. Ze plot thickens, yet not so much that I have any idea what exactly it's thickening into. I hope it's not blood sausage.\n\nAfter a good 45 minutes of weaving traffic, we pulled up in front of a fairly modern looking installation next to Lake Washington. The signage in front stated that we were at 'PMEL', which I shortly thereafter learned was a NOAA facility. I was given about thirty seconds of explanation before they sat me down in an office and started feeding me paperwork, which translated to a solid twenty minutes and the kind of acute hand cramps that only come from signing your name too many times. And just like that, I was given clearance well beyond anything I could have conceived possible just two days earlier. But why? What was going on?\n\nSomeone's aide retrieved me and led me to a small conference room where my boss was waiting. Not alone, mind you - I was then introduced to an odd mix of NOAA administration, two senior researchers, and unsettlingly, one US Navy Admiral. And that is when my ignorance as to what was going on was quickly dispelled. No time was wasted.\n\nThis meeting wasn't being held for me. My boss had buckled under the stress of what she knew and had spoken out of turn at the bar, but - luckily or unluckily, I'm still not sure - her indiscretion meant my sudden inclusion in this circle, which held the knowledge that we needed to flee our home. We needed to flee Earth, because of what was found under the waves. NASA would be overseeing a now desperate search for a new home for our race - not because of the slow wasting of the planet that doomsayers had proclaimed would result of exploitation and global warming, not because of an unstoppable celestial event we saw coming... no, this was so much worse.\n\nNOAA had heard it first. They thought it was a joke, but the sound grew louder, stronger, until the possibility of it being anthropogenic was no longer plausible. They reached out to NASA and the navy, and the site of origin was mapped with sonar, satellite imaging in visible and infrared, and then, finally, a sub had been sent down to investigate what was calling out from the bottom of the Pacific. The sub did not come back.\n\nThe images they showed me chilled my blood. A great mass sprawling across the seafloor, shown in time lapse to be writhing, infrared telling us it was far, far colder than the deep sea it hid beneath. But the part that truly scared me was the audio - no longer the peculiar whisper NOAA first recorded, but a horrible chanting. Like a thousand wailing voices and a thousand nails on chalkboards... and if you listened closely, you could hear the fervour in their abyssal refrain building ever so slightly with each verse.\n\n​\n\nB̵͐̔ͨ̚͏͔̯̬̭̤̻̘̝̠̬̤Ȁ̷̿̒̓̑ͫ̾́͏̘̟̖̟A̓̄́̐̎͐͊ͣͦ͏̫̬̩͍̤̺͚̝͈̝̭͉̺ͅǺ̸͊́́͊҉̜͉̯̝̝̹͙̕A̛͖̩̗̟̯͙̘͎̱̺̙̹̝̱͚͙ͬ̄ͬͦ͊̓̋͆̆ͦ̉̇̂̂̄ͯ̀͜͡A̴̢̜̪̻̥͚̮̤̟̫͚̞̳̱͖̓̎͗̏͛ͭͣ̓̐ͦ̒Ȃ̵̵̴̵̱͕͙̫͇̤̻̫̥̠͇̖̤ͭ̎̇̂̄̔͗ͪͮ̎ͩͧ͗̚Aͬ͌̒̄ͫ͂͐ͤ̊ͩͣͦ͒͋ͮͭ̐̚̚҉̸̸̖̭̪͖͢͜A̩̱̠͉̳̮̦̞̠̞̜̘̓̔͑ͧ͗̑ͪ͂͛̌̓ͪͩ̈ͧͨ̀̀̚̚͞B̷̶̡͍̟̱͕̄ͨ͋͋ͬͭ̚͟͡Y̡̛̬̞͕̯̙̳̞̹̗͚̣̞͖̻̱̳̣̪̦̓͑͑ͤ́ͪ͒͐́̑͒̓̀͠͝ ̸̧̠͈̩̞̫̻̙ͨ̌ͧ͂̀̎̎͛̈ͣ̐̎͌̉̄ͫͅS̋ͬ͗̍̈́ͤͨ̑ͩ̑̈́̍͑̅̽͑̚҉͏̮͙̝̬̤̮̬̱͕̜H̽͂̐̌ͤ̑̈͘҉̢̬̮͕̜̮̺͟Ą̴͈̣͎̪̭̜̙̻̱̩̜̤̜̑͌̂ͦ̃̓̓̓͊ͨͨ̌̾̾ͣͦ̚R̸͇̯̜̻̓̈́͗́̋ͧ̄̀͒̇́ͨ͡͝͝͠ͅK̏̄͒ͫ͏̛̻̥̹̗̙͎̭̳̾͒̽̐̓ͣ͞҉̢͚͉͞ͅḊ͈̱̙͚̮̏ͦ̿͋͐̚̚̕Ǫ̸̱̘̗̖̹͓̯̟̺͉ͧ̈́̇ͯ̿̄͛̿̋̐̿ͅOͦͮ̔̏ͭ̅͌̇̂̒̃̆̓̕҉͏̧̖̤̝̞͚̬̣̩͕̫̳̞̞͙̬͘ ̛͓̤̟͙͋́̂ͩ̍͋̔̌̀̚͜͜͝Ḏ̷̨̙̘̱͚̖̼̲̱̙̹̞̠̪̀̂̊̔̑ͥͪ͂ͫ̔́͞O̴͖̩̤̻͔̣̞̾̇͐͒ͨͭ̆ͦͮ́͊̕ͅƠ̷̢̛̇̾ͩ̎̌͗̀҉̭̥̘͓̗̼͍̞̠̙̠̥̻̼̘͎̥̥ͅ ̸͎͕̠͚̼̱̻̯͔̬͕͇̫̭͍̝̩̳̣̪̦̗̭̮̹̪̪̳͔̜͚͌̌͒̂̄͗̈̓̄ͭ͑͗̃͊ͯ̐͆̒̓̓͛̄̄ͣͯͤ͑͛̎͒̃͐̂̕͜͢͞D̷̔ͥͤ̿ͤ̈́̚҉̢̦͎̣̞͙͓̤̦̤̗̩̠̪̖̗̩̗͠͞ͅǪ͍̦͍̣̑̈ͣ̾̄ͤͫͤͨͭ̒̄́͢͝ͅO̢̫͔̣̝͚̰͚̣̼̝͙̞ͨͮ͋͛͂͐̉̒͑̑̍̈́̃͜ ̸͈̫̼̜̭͎̬̥͓͓͚̮͕͍̬̫̑̐ͯͨ̒̎̅̆̔̍̅̐̃̉ͧ͜D̡̛̙̳̬͇̖͕̙̭ͩ͒̃͑̉̅́́O̷̧̡̤̲̼̹̮̩͖̣ͯ̀̈̅̓ͯ̓̓̾͒ͤ̃̚͞͡ͅƠ̧̳̹̯̞̩̹̲͔̙͙̗̻̤͈̼͔̳͖̯̫̙̝̮͇͕̜͎̠̣͔̯̝͆ͨ̂ͧͦ̐͂ͣ̂ͫ̈̾͐ͮ̓̄̌̎̍̓ͤ̃̎̈̇̚͜͜ͅD̶̨͉͇͖̥̪͖̙̤̯͚͑̌̎̓̒̉͌̄̊̉ͥͫ̌̚̕͘͜Ȯ̶̴̷̫̰̝̪ͨͣ̐ͤͤ͌̋̀͂̈́̄ͭ͛̀ͯ̚͘ͅO̵̵̘̲̥̩ͬ̀̍͌ͯ͒͛̽̀̕ ̴̌̈́̐̍̑̾ͦ͊ͣ̎͆̇̎ͦ͐̍́̀͢͏̺̟̞͖̦͙D̵̶̨͓̳̳̜͍̞̘́ͦ̌ͦ͌ͫͤͦ̏ͨ͠͡O̶̢̩̩̹̹̜̯̹͓̭̹͂ͤ̈́̐ͮ͗͂ͣͣͣͥ̌͛̎͐͋ͭͫͮ̕͠͝ͅO͑ͦ̌̎̊́ͣ͑̉͐̓͘͟͏͍̣̘͙̝̭̳̦̫̩̩̜͚͎͎͝\n\n      \n \n \n \n***\n \nOh hey, first time gilt! Thanks, kind strangers! Who knew this communal hatred of Baby Shark ran so deep?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You and your significant other are running for your lives from a slasher killer. Suddenly your partner ducks into a door and locks it behind them leaving you behind. You slump against the door preparing for the worst. The killer walks up and says \"Wow what a jerk. You ok?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ten seconds of rain, thick and cold fell down hard wetting the forest floor below as my feet carried me behind David. They move as fast as i can make them but even with the adrenaline coursing through me i feel myself slowing. The rain hadn't been forecast for our weekend at the cabin and we hadn't prepared for it. My breathing is ragged and sharp, my tank top and pants weighed down by the deluge of water. \"David\"i scream in alarm, as i see he's now further ahead of as we clear the tree line and can see the cabin moving closer now in the distance. He doesn't hear me, he doesn't slow. My chest aches now from the exertion and cold air in my lungs. But i force myself forward, knowing that fucking nut with hatchet can't be far behind. I don't know what we'd done to set him off and i don't care. David has reached the cabin now, and i make up the distance between us as i see him frantically fiddle with the two keys the land lady had left us. I'm 10 steps behind. He pushes the door open and moves past the threshold to turn back to me, wide fear and sweat and tears on his pale face. A new fear grips me as i watch him 3 steps away and like a knife in my chest, it's like i realise what's about to happen before my eyes do. He slams the heavy wooden door shut. I'm at the door to hear the lock move, a clanging of iron that seals my fate. \n\n\"David\"my voice is hoarse and hysterical as i scream at the door. My brain refusing for the first second to do anything but believe that this had been some mistake, that he had thought me long gone and was seeing only to his own survival. I'd probably do the same. But then the moment passes, and i know again he's in there, he'd seen me before he locked the door. I bang my arms heavy and aching on the wooden doors screaming for him to let me in, that i'm here. \"David open the fucking door, Please David\"I'm crying now, begging for my life to the man who'd wanted to marry me. I feel the heat rush in my face, the fear, the betrayal, it hurts to breathe. I turn my body to lean against the door, crumpling like paper to the floor. Tears running down no different then the rain and i begin to laugh. I don't know why. Which is a lie. We humans often laugh in the face of pain. So i'll laugh at the death that's coming. Not that it's a choice.\n\n​\n\n**\"Wow what a jerk. You ok?\"** I think it a hallucination at first, this figure looking down at me drenched in rain. My hysterical mind refusing to bother processing the stranger. The man in black, throws the hatchet onto the grass beside him as i look up at him, beginning to pull back from the abyss of complete mental shutdown, but still the fear claws at me. He moves to crouch low in front of me, looking me square in the face, pain what seems like the slightest flicker of amusement touches his face. I lean down away from him, wanting him to just get it over with. Seconds pass as stares down at me. I push forward in my mind. \"Just kill me already\"I shout at him, lower then i had intended, the flight from the campground having taken all the energy i'd had. That flicker again. He speaks low and clear as the rain has slowed, like one might talk to a frightened child. **\"I'm not here for you\".**" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your job description: 1) Sit in an empty room with a red button for 8 hours a day. 2) NEVER press the red button, no matter what happens. 3) Do not talk to anyone about the job. After many uneventful years, your phone rings and a stern, slightly panicked voice says: „Press the button. NOW!!“" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The phone on my desk rang. Naturally, I answered.\n\n\"Hello?\"\n\n\"Press the button!\"snapped a stern voice.\n\nI glanced down at the red button built into the top of my desk. \n\n\"May I ask who is calling?\"I inquired. Not that it mattered -- it could be the President of the United States, I still wasnt pressing that button. \n\nMy job description was pretty clear, after all.\n\n*1. You will be assigned to an empty room with a desk and a chair. In the middle of the desk, there will be a large red button.\n2. No matter what happens, never press the red button.\n3.Do not talk to anyone about your job.*\n\nAnd I was well paid to do my job -- to do, essentially, nothing. Electronic devices weren't allowed past security, but anything else I wanted to bring in to pass the time while I \"worked\"was fine; books, magazines, model kits, whatever I liked.\n\nI'd been there just over seven years, and they'd never tested me on it before. I'd never given them reason to doubt me. But today was the day, I supposed.\n\n\"There's no time! I'm with the Agency! You have to press the button!\"\n\nThe Agency? I'd always wondered if this was some kind of secret CIA experiment. Weird, that they'd just come right out and say it after all this time, though. Of course, that didn't matter, either. If they had wanted me to press the button, they should have told me there was some circumstance under which I might have to. Nowhere in rule two did the word \"unless\"appear.\n\n\"Now!\"the voice shouted, in mixed anger and desperation.\n\nIt occurred to me that if I talked to whomever was testing me long enough, they might trick me into breaking rule three, somehow. So I simply hung up.\n\nA few minutes later, two men in suits entered the room. One of them was my boss. Without a word, he handed me a piece of paper.\n\nIt was a termination notice. I was appalled at first...until I noticed the line about severance. And the one about continuing pension and health care benefits. The termination was more like a promotion; I'd get to go from doing essentially nothing, to literally doing nothing at all, and I'd still get paid. It was hard to complain about.\n\nBut still, since I was fired anyway, I had to know.\n\n\"What does it do?\"I asked.\n\n\"I can't give you all the details, but...it opens a door.\"my boss said.\n\n\"So...I was just making sure a door didn't open?'\n\n\"More like...\"he said, pausing to think. \"You were actively *not* opening it. That's all I can say.\"\n\nI nodded. I had no idea what that meant, but I guess I never really expected a straight answer. \n\nI picked up my coat and stood up from my chair. The guy with my boss took my place by the button.\n\n\"One thing I don't get.\"I said, as he began escorting me out. \"Why let me go now? I never talked about my job -- and I for damn sure never pressed that button. \"\n\n\"No.\"my boss agreed. \"But your ability to continue doing your job has been compromised -- it happens sometimes, nothing to be ashamed of. In any case, your problem wasn't rule two, or rule three. *Rule one,* Mr. Stanley.\"\n\nI furrowed my brow. \"But that's just a description of the room, isn't it?\"\n\nHe nodded, as we approached security. \n\n\"You will be assigned to an empty room with a desk and a chair. In the middle of the desk, there will be a large red button,\"he quoted.\n\n\"I don't get it,\"I admitted.\n\n\"An empty room, Mr. Stanley, but for the objects listed.\"\n\nI was still confused, as we reached security, and I handed over my employee badge to the guard. My former boss walked me past the checkpoint to the exit door. \n\n\"I...still don't understand.\"I admitted, as my ex- employer shook my hand. \n\n\"A desk, a chair, and a button.\"\n\nI blinked.\n\nWhen he spoke again, his words sent a chill down my spine. \"The room you worked in does not now, nor has it ever, contained a telephone.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Valhalla is filled with the strongest warriors the world has ever known. Vikings, Spartans, Mongols, Romans, Samurai, Spetznaz, JSOC Operators. And in that corner over there? That's Ted, from accounting." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One of the peculiarities about Valhalla was that time had no meaning. \nWarriors did not arrive in Valhalla chronologically, they arrived based on how glorious their battle prowess and their death had been. \nHögdar the Huge had just arrived in Valhalla, after mortally maiming twenty Englishmen and being shot through the heart by an arrow. \nThe hall was just as vast as legend had foretold; the rafters disappearing in darkness and hazed by the thick smoke from the firepits that lined the hall. \nHe quickly found some of his battle brothers from previous skirmishes and roared in greeting, immediately swapping tales of his deeds leading up to his death. \nThe hall was not at all full, he noted; less than two thousand warriors of various races and genders filled the benches, eating, drinking and fighting. \n\"I am pleased that I arrived early,\"he shouted to his companions, \"who would want to be last into Valhalla? The shame would be unbearable!\"\nHis friends roared with laughter and thrust a horn of mead into his hand. \nAs Högdar drank, his good eye roved over the assorted warriors. In one corner sat a group of strange men in green uniforms, patterned like a forest canopy. They leaned on unnatural looking weapons and sported gaudy, meaningless tattoos. \n\"Marines,\"said Halfdan, \"from the future. Great warriors - their leader was amongst the first to arrive in Valhalla.\"\nHögdar raised a scarred eyebrow and re-appraised the soldiers. Appearances could be deceiving. \n\"Odin was first here, of course,\"continued Halfdan, \"as he is the greatest warrior of all.\"\nReaching for another horn, Högdar casually asked, \n\"Who was second?\"\nA sudden hush descended on the vast hall and Högdar felt unease creep up his spine like a spider made of frost. \nAll eyes had turned to a secluded nook, far from the smoke, noise and heat, where a small man sat, clothed in black trousers and a neat white shirt and tie. His leather shoes were polished brightly and a pair of spectacles perched below a receding hairline and a brow full of worry lines. \n\"I was,\"said Ted, from accounting. \nHögdar rose from the bench and drew his sword - still bloody with the ichor of his fallen foes. \n\"WHAT JEST IS THIS?\"he bellowed. \n\"Shh! Högdar, my friend, sit *down!*\"crooned Halfdan, \"leave the man be.\"\nBut the strong alcohol had begun to kick in and Högdar's blood was still hot from battle. \n\"I WILL NOT! It is an insult to Odin, to my ancestors and to me that this *worm* of a man sits amongst the greatest warriors of all time!\"\nA Mongolian horse archer in leather and fur armour stood, his steely, dead eyes boring into the agitated Viking, \n\"Northman. You sit. Shut mouth.\"\n\"Freya's tits I will!\"Högdar shot back, brandishing his weapon, foam spraying from his lips. \n\"You insult Ted.\"the stocky archer said flatly. \n\"Aye, that I do! And what are you going to do about it, you slit-eyed horse-lover?\"\nHögdar didn't even see Ted move. \nAll he was aware of was that suddenly he couldn't feel the rest of his body and the ground was rapidly approaching. \nHe stared up into the thin, pinched features and blue stubble of Ted's annoyed face. \nThe small man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and retrieved something from Högdar's neck. \nTed wiped off his titanium Parker pen with a bloody handkerchief and regarded the paralysed Viking. \n\"Didn't anyone ever tell you that the pen is mightier than the sword?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You have the ability to double jump. Scientists are still trying to figure it out." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“So, I just go like this,” said Johnny, raising his right leg. \n The group of lab-coated scientists nodded slowly, notepads at the ready. \n “and then just do like this.” finished Johnny as he effortlessly jumped off a platform that wasn’t there. \nTo Johnny, double jumping came as naturally as breathing. \nA pencil snapped in half, a scientist stormed out of the room while muttering something inaudible. \n A scientist with curly brown hair stepped forward, “That’s great, Johnny,” he said with a smile, tapping his notepad with a pencil, “Take a break, we’ll discuss the data amongst ourselves.” \nJohnny gave the man a thumbs-up, “Coolbeans.” \nThe scientist watched him go, “Coolbeans, indeed.” he said with a raised eyebrow before turning to his colleagues. \nHe sighed, “So, anyone any wiser?” \n They collectively shook their heads. \n One scientist perked up, she tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, “William, I think I saw the air below his right leg contort, like he was pressing it together to use as a foothold.” \n All the other scientists slowly turned to stare at her, awaiting further explanation. \n “Wow,” said William, taken aback, “Really? You got all that?” \n She nodded, then the nodding happened in increasingly diagonal sways, until she was no longer nodding but shaking her head, “No, not really. But we’ve been at this for 10 hours, I just want it to be over. So I really need that explanation to suffice.” \n On the other side of the pristine white room, Johnny was double-jumping to his heart’s content. \nThe scientists watched him defy the laws of nature with tired eyes. \n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "[Harry Potter] You are a non-famous muggle biologist that keeps discovering magical creatures, and right before you announce your discoveries, get your memory erased by the ministry of magic. Then your daughter gets her letter from Hogwarts, and you learn you're famous in the magical world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Professor Theodore Waxburn had worked in Oxford's biology program for fifteen years but wasn't quite able to show he had been *doing* much of anything. He remembered working. He had years and years of scribbled notes in his file folders that could prove it. But his major papers seemed to come in spurts; he could only hunt down four publications in his fifteen years of research. *Four!*\n\nInexplicable. Inconceivable. Surely he had written more than four papers, surely something had simply slipped his mind, slipped through the cracks.\n\nAt the moment, Theodore Waxburn was tearing his home office apart, trying to find evidence to bring to his departmental meeting to show he was an active and useful member of the team. He muttered dark curses under his breath and began thumbing through his filing cabinets, only to find half the pages blank or blacked out.\n\n\"Jesus Christ in a bloody handbasket,\"Theodore muttered to himself.\n\n\"Daddy?\"\n\nTheodore whipped around to see his red-cheeked daughter Sophie and hoped she had not heard that. \"Yes, darling?\"\n\n\"Is everything quite alright?\"\n\n\"Don't worry, it's a work... problem.\"He tried to palm the frustration out of his eyes, went over to his daughter, and hunkered down in front of her. He wondered what time it was, if he'd forgotten to start cooking dinner again. \"What is it, my little pumpkin?\"\n\n\"I got a letter.\"Sophie held it out to him, shyly.\n\nTheodore plucked the envelope out of her fingers. It was a fine thick vellum and bore the words\n\n>*Ms. S. Waxburn*\n>\n>*The second floor*\n\nand then their address in precise green handwriting. It reminded Theodore of his father's old fountain pen. He tore into the envelope, found no knives or funny powder, and so offered it to Sophie.\n\n\"Did you and one of your little friends decide to be pen pals?\"he asked, distractedly, turning back to his ruined note collection. He tried to remember when he did that, or in god's name *why* he would ever do that. \n\n\"No.\"\n\nFor a moment, the room was quiet as Sophie read and Theodore rummaged.\n\n\"Daddy?\"\n\n\"Yes, darling?\"\n\n\"This one is for you.\"\n\nTheodore took the piece of paper Sophie offered him without quite looking at it. She flounced out of the room and was gone several minutes before Theodore paused his searching to look at the paper.\n\nIn the same exacting hand, the letter read,\n\n>*Dear Mr. Theodore Waxburn,*\n\n>*You do not remember it, but you have dedicated most of your career to the discovery and observation of magical creatures. Now that Sophie has been accepted into Hogwarts I feel the freedom to disclose to you the truth of your life.*\n\n>*Your memories, notes, and pertinent publications have been destroyed for the safekeeping of our wizarding society, from its oldest to its youngest members. We have found in the past that we cannot trust the non-magical world to maintain the integrity and agency of our magical beings, human or otherwise. In their greed to understand, muggles tend to destroy, change, and consume. (Please do not take this observation personally.)*\n\n>*I apologize for the professional inconvenience imposed upon you by the demands of our society. You must understand that for the safety of all our citizens we must maintain absolute secrecy and conceal the magic world from humans in its totality.*\n\n>*If it is of any consolation, your findings have been recorded in the* Waxburn's Guide to Magical Creatures: A Muggle Reader. *Your work has allowed more wizards to realize that the only thing separating wizards from muggles is not intellect or ability, but merely the knowledge of the small magic hiding all around us. Please find a copy enclosed (though do keep it secret--I'm committing a not-so-minor crime sharing it with you).*\n\nTheodore read it over and over again, scrambling for a reasonable explanation. Occam's Razor. This was a joke. This was a project from Sophie's school. This was a gift in one of her books or something.\n\nTheodore Waxburn poked his head into the kitchen where his daughter was putting on a kettle for some tea. \"Sophie, darling,\"he said, \"what's this?\"\n\n\"It's your letter. I got one too.\"Sophie offered him her letter, grinning delightedly. \"I get to be a real witch!\"\n\n\"There's no such thing as a real witch,\"Theodore chided her, skimming her letter, paling. The same handwriting. Same paper. *We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.*\n\n\"The owl has a package for you, outside.\"\n\n\"The *owl?*\"\n\n\"Yes, the one who brought the letters,\"Sophie said, like it should be rather self-explanatory. \"It's *your* package. It can't give it to anyone but you.\"\n\nTheodore yanked open the door to the back garden to find a huge barn owl sitting on his bird feeder with a paper-covered parcel resting beneath its talons. He crept over to it, slowly, trying not to think about those talons on his head or arms or face.\n\n\"Hi, birdy,\"he said, lamely. \"You're rather very big, aren't you.\"\n\nThe owl fixed him with a bright-eyed, eviscerating look, as if mocking him for not knowing how to speak to it, and then spread its enormous wings and took to the sky.\n\nThe packaging on the book had the same clear, crisp green handwriting, smudged only a little by the bird's feet. Theodore unwrapped it with shaking hands and stared at the ebony cover for several long, loving seconds. \n\nDespite the impossibility of it all, there it was: *Waxburn's Guide to Magical Creatures: A Muggle Reader.* A book, a real one, with his name on it. Theodore grinned like a child at Christmas. Perhaps these fifteen years had not been such a waste after all.\n\nAfter all, he *had* always wanted to publish a book. \n***\nIf you liked this, check out my subreddit! /r/shoringupfragments\n\n~~ETA: I'm thinking about writing a prequel series about Theodore's forgotten research. If you like stories about an eccentric British man scouring extreme climates for creatures that may or may not be real, I'm going to write that thing! It will be in my subreddit soon(ish)!~~\n\n7/19/17 edit: If you would like to hear more of Theodore's story, [I just posted the first chapter!](https://www.reddit.com/r/shoringupfragments/comments/6o9if3/waxburns_guide_to_magical_creatures_ch_1/)\n\nP.s. Thank you for your time and kind words everyone. I'm honestly floored." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You, an atheist, have died. All the gods that have ever been line up to offer you their version of heaven if only you believe in _them_. Turns out souls are currency and yours is up for grabs." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You know that feeling of being absolutely, and without a shadow of a doubt, wrong? It’s soul crushing for some, but uplifting for others. All my life I had laughed at the silliness of the religious people because, let’s be honest here, what they were suggesting was often *silly*.\n\nI mean, Earth being a few millennia old? When you die you get seventy-something virgins (where did all those virgins come from)? Was our world a giant tree, or flat, or shaped like a cigar? Why was the Pearly Gates not made in another material? Why did Moses spend forty years in that desert? Why did you need six arms if you were a goddess? See what I’m saying?\n\nAnyway, I was wrong, and here I was about to be judged for my crimes and spend the rest of my life in… well, I was curious how they’d decide which Hell I’d go to.\n\n“She lived in New York City, that means she belongs to me,” Yahweh said and hovered in front of me, his white beard flapping in some unseen breeze.\n\nI stared at the naked body of the floating god. The Christian Hell was one of the worst. I found myself inching backward. I had committed most of the sins and would definitely have a rough time down there.\n\n“Need I remind you that NYC is on an ancient burial ground of my people – that means she’s mine,” Gitche Manitou whispered softly. \n\nThe gaseous form of the Native American deity swirled around my legs. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad – was there even a Hell in that religion? I was just about to accept when a massive man with a raven on his shoulder stepped forth, his one eye ogling his opponents.\n\n“Look at her – those blonde locks and blue eyes,” Odin rumbled, “She’s clearly the descendant of a Viking!”\n\nThe man took a step forward and put his massive hand on my shoulder. I felt myself quivering. Then he smiled and winked at me.\n\n“I want you at my table in Valhalla,” he said. “Choose me, and I’ll let you sit with Freya and the Valkyries.”\n\nChoose? Did I have a choice in the matter? Gaping, I stared at the crowd of gods before me. Were they all here to compete for my immortal soul?\n\n“Of course,” said a man in a toga, with a lightning bolt crackling in his hand. “Have you ever been to Greece, Little Girl? Join me at Mt. Olympus, and I’ll see to all your needs.”\n\n“And, in return, she’ll have to fill all your needs, I bet?” said a man with blue skin and four arms. “I’m sure she’d *love* to go home with a repeated sex offender or an old nudist fart!”\n\nBoth Yahweh and Zeus scowled at Shiva as he floated over to me and patted me with his bottom right hand. “Come with me, and I’ll show my world. My religion is one of the oldest, and you know why? Because it works! I leave no soul disappointed.”\n\n“What he’s not telling you, is that his heaven is basically empty… he’ll send you right back to Earth in the form of a snail or insect – he’ll recycle you until you no longer understand what’s up or down – that’s why he has no complaints because only a select few actually reach the final stage!” \n\nIt was the man with the falcon head that spoke. Graciously he sauntered up to me, spinning an ankh on his index finger.\n\n“My pyramids still stand,” Ra continued. “And will continue to do so, long after the churches, temples, and mosques of these fools are gone. I don’t settle for anything less than greatness… Come with me, and I’ll share my eternal wisdom… I’ll show you the true light of the sun!”\n\nThat did sound nice; I had to admit. I had always been fascinated with science in life. Perhaps with access to his wisdom, I could answer many of the questions I had?\n\n“Wisdom, hah!” said a man on a bamboo mat, his golden skin glittering as he laughed. “What wisdom can someone with a giant fidget spinner really provide?”\n\nBuddha remained cross-legged on his meditation mat but looked at me intensely. “I’ve meditated for thousands of years, and my insights are unparalleled. If it’s wisdom you’re after, please join me at my temple – a temple that, for the record, isn’t made out of dusty Saharan sand, but from the lively walls of your mind.”\n\nI sighed as a Mayan god approached me, and a long line of deities snaked behind him, all waiting for their turn to try and convince me. The choice seemed like an impossible one to make. \n\n“Guys, I need to think,” I said and sat down under a tree.\n\nI looked at all the odd figures watching me expectantly. I’d never thought dying would be so stressful. What if I picked the wrong one?\n\nA bored-looking man with long dark hair was leaning against the tree. I didn’t remember him approaching me.\n\n“Why didn’t you offer me anything to choose your heaven?” I asked. \n\n“Who? Me?” he said and took a sip from a jar. “I don’t really care; I’m just filling in for Jupiter.”\n\n“I desperately need a drink right now.”\n\nHe shrugged and handed me the jar. I had expected to taste the nectar of heaven, but instead, cheap box-wine rolled down my throat.\n\n“So, what do you have to offer me?” I asked after another gulp.\n\n“Nothing, really,” he said. “I usually just chill out, you know… drink wine, eat grapes… nothing interesting.”\n\nI smiled. After living a stressful life, all I wanted to do was relax.\n\n“I think I’ll choose your heaven,” I said after a drawn out pause.\n\nThe man shrugged. “You’ll have to get your own jar, though.”\n\n*****\nFor more stories check out r/Lilwa_Dexel\n\nThank you for the gold!\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The universe has ended and nothing is left. Nothing except all the damn immortals created by the many Writing Prompts all standing around wondering what to do." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I must say that when an author writes a story, his or her world is created off in the vast universe of possibilities. In an infinite universe, there really is no such thing as fiction. As luck would have it, certain individuals became the only remembrance of that universe. The universe came to an end in all matter. There was no longer darkness, there was no longer light. There were only six individuals that circled around each other very confused wondering,\n\n‘If everything is now gone. Why aren’t we?’\n\nOne of them scratched their brow before yelling, “What the hell? Where is everything?”\n\nThere was just empty blankness like the sheet of paper that I chose to write on. I was about to give an answer before someone interrupted by asking, “Are we immortal?” \n\n“Yes.” I laughed while trying to keep up with their dialogue. \n\nThey all looked around at one another trying to understand who my voice belonged to. \n\n“This is literally a nightmare.” A woman cried. “Please tell me that this isn’t our new reality now!”\n\nI cringed a little. She seemed like she was about to pop off the hinges. \n\n“What do we do?”\n\n“How do I know?”\n\n“Oh my goodness! All of you shut up while I try to figure something out!”\n\nThey each kept snapping at each other. It was hard for me to keep up. My words are the only thing that binds this new universe together. That and if I wasn’t writing about these individuals, nobody would ever give a shit.\n\nOne kept going on about never being able to eat again. One had too much pride to even speak with the others. One kept awkwardly staring at the only female present before yelling at everyone else. One was just too lazy to care about what was happening around him – he just wanted to lie down. Then the last one, don’t even get me started with the last one. All he wanted to do was see what everyone had in their pockets without them noticing. \n\nAre these really the only individuals left besides myself? I am going to go mad along with them.\n\n“Quiet, all of you!” I ordered.\n\nThey all jumped to look up into nothingness – except for the lazy one – he just lay there without any care in the non-universe.\n\nObviously we need to fix this. I tried to write as fast as I could while they waited.\n\n“Why don’t we just create a new universe?” I asked.\n\nThey all looked around in silence.\n\n“How are we supposed to do that, *annoying voice in the sky man*?” The woman shrugged.\n\nI mean, there’s no need for name calling. I’m just the only immortal author left. It is up to me to write the new universe into existence.\n\n“Well, we are all immortal. With us, there is life. We have light and darkness inside each of us. We can put the universe back together.” I answered, spilling a little bit of ink on the page I wrote.\n\nThe ink splattered over one of their faces while the lazy one started to laugh hysterically towards the scene.\n\n“Sorry.” I wrote. I waited for a second before the woman asked,\n\n“So, let’s assume that no one understands what you just said. How do we put the universe back together?”\n\n“Easy.” I responded. “Each of us picks up a quill and starts writing!”\n\n“Yea, well that’s going to be hard. There are no quills! There’s nothing!” One of them spat up towards me.\n\n“Okay. Okay.” I gently mumbled before writing six different quills into their existence.\n\nThey each had a quill in front of them.\n\n“If you can write anything into existence, why can’t you just write us the new universe?”\n\n“Well I can’t do it alone!” I shook my head. “That’s an infinite amount of writing. I am going to need all of your help.”\n\nThe lazy one picked up the quill only to roll his eyes before dropping it back down. The one who wasn’t speaking to anyone started writing himself a servant. The woman picked up the quill and started to color in the first bit of darkness. \n\n“Come on, all of you start writing something!” I excitingly pointed.\n\nOne of them looked up at me and requested, “Can you just write me out of existence? Writing is boring.”\n\n“Oh, come on.” I pointed towards his quill – but he couldn’t see that. “Writing is not boring, it is powerful! You have a chance to create a galaxy, a star, a new world, people, feelings – literally anything! With all of you, we can start to write our own universe back to life again! We have to do this – we are all that’s left of our old one!”\n\nHe started to move his quill. Instead of writing, he started drawing. I nearly jumped out of my seat. “Yes!” I screamed. “Art inspires writing!”\n\nHe started to draw stars which shone brightly next to the woman’s dark abyss of ink. The one who wanted food started to draw food in front of him. He started writing the description of their taste. He was so excited, he started humming a tune.\n\n“Yes! Music inspires writing!” I was so ecstatic. We were going to pull this off. I started to write a blank box sitting in front of the group. They all looked at it. Each one of them started moving their quills – yes, even the lazy one was moving his. Lines started to cross one another, tunes filled the air. Before you knew it, even my own eyes were shocked. Lines connected to the empty box before a thunderous sound filled all around them. Galaxies danced in freedom. Stars smiled at each other in their twinkle. Planets turned towards another looking at their new nature.\n\nI fell back with my paper. “We did it.” I smiled.\n\nI couldn’t believe that the sloth even chimed in. I knew the woman was more concerned in her lust that getting her to start was a miracle. The man who was too prideful to move his own quill wrote himself a servant to do it for him – but hey, it got done. The wrathful yelling of the other man dulled when he used his anger to help draw with his quill. I knew that once Gluttony drew food in front of him, he’d start humming in excitement. The music helped inspire the writing of the others. Greed stopped stealing and just wrote what he was searching for. \n\nI couldn’t believe the six wrote back the universe. It is silly to think these individuals were created by individuals like myself from the old universe of writing prompts. Some would say these people were nothing but a group of sins. I couldn’t agree more – they were a little annoying. It made them special however. It took away from them being immortal and I realized they were human after all. \n\nI smiled. I am honored to have been the writer but, sadly, I envy them all. This universe will be for them – not me.\n\n***\n\nTo read more of my stories, visit [r/13thOlympian] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/)\n\n*Thanks for the Reddit Gold! - First time ever! I am glad that everyone is enjoying the story!*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"A watched pot never boils\", as the old saying goes. Throughout all of history there has always been at least one set of eyes on the ocean. Today, for a split second, everyone looking at the ocean looked away at the exact same time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His eyes were weary.\n\nThe rain beat down on the ruins of a once-majestic castle. It seemed to be hundreds, perhaps thousands of years old. It stood at the top of a cliff, overlooking the ocean. Once in a while, a rock would fall from the crumbling towers, to splash in the water far below. \n\nHe sat atop the highest tower, alone. Watching.\n\nHe was the last of the Order, now. Gerard had not arrived to serve his watch, and twenty hours had passed since. The both of them had been close to eighty years of age, so it was not unexpected. They had known it was coming for twenty years, really. Since Michael passed away, the two remaining members of the Order had been forced to keep watch in shifts, neither of them able to leave to spread the cause. Not that it mattered. The Order was viewed as a cult by most of the world. Their teachings were so strange, so alien, that very few were inclined to take them seriously. Their last disciple, forty years ago, had left after less than a week.\n\nBut the fact remained that the Order was the key to the survival of the world. In ages past, during the first Creation War, the multitudes of demons had been first defeated and sealed in a prison of light. The prison did not hold, and evil was let loose upon the world. This time, the Authority sealed them in a prison of fire. But they absorbed the fire, rebelling once again, growing smarter and stronger. The Third Creation War had been hard-fought, and Good had nearly lost. But this time, the demons were sealed in a prison of rock and water, to fetter their movements and quench their fire. And finally, the threat was contained. However, the demons were powerful; given time, their flames could overcome the water that was critical to their imprisonment. And so the Authority made Man, to watch over the demons and ensure that they would never escape. \n\nOnce, the Order had been the pinnacle of mankind. They were the bearers of its purpose, the reason for mankind's existence. But over time this purpose had been forgotten, the Order shunned.\n\nHe was the last of them all.\n\nAnd his eyes were weary.\n\nHe had not slept in thirty-two hours. The rain helped. The cold kept him alert, and each drop was a reminder of his duty.\n\n*I am the watcher on the walls.*\n\nHe knew he could not keep this up forever. He was nearing the limits of his endurance, and even if he did not sleep for the rest of his life, he would eventually die of starvation, or old age. \n\nHe thought of the people he was protecting. All around the world, people were continuing with their daily routine, unaware of the great terror that would soon befall them. Somewhere out there, children were playing. Somewhere, lovers held each other under the shade of a tree, whispering to each other. Everywhere, people were living. \n\n*I am the shield that guards the realms of men.*\n\nMankind was doomed. But he was determined to hold out for as long as he could. Even for just an hour. Even for a minute. Humanity had forsaken him. There would be no stories told. Yet, he would give everything he had, just to buy them another minute of blissful ignorance.\n\nHis eyes began to close. He knew it was happening, but try as he might, he could not get them to open again. His mind felt... looser. Unfocused. \n\nHis vision grew darker. He could see it happening. He could feel it. He hated it. But his mind was splintering from his body. He could almost feel them pulling apart, the loose threads of his consciousness stretching...\n\n...thinning...\n\n...breaking.\n\nHis head slumped forward. His eyes were closed.\n\nFor a moment, nothing happened.\n\nThere was a deep rumbling from below. The ground shook. People stopped what they were doing and glanced at each other, confused and fearful.\n\nAnd the oceans began to boil." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Every time in your life you've been in mortal danger, a small cat has appeared that casually yet miraculously leads you to safety. Now, as your plane plummets from the sky, spiraling towards the ground, the cat pops out of the overhead compartment." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Prrow?\"Whiskers meowed thoughtfully, asking me what was going on.\n\nI was hyperventilating into my overhead oxygen mask as the woman next to me screamed into hers. The captain had stopped relaying what was happening after he announced that multiple engines had given up on the plane. He was desperately trying to level the plane as we descended at faster speeds, approaching a nosedive.\n\n\"Mmmmrow?\"Whiskers nodded, hopping out the top on the overhead compartment, my backpack falling after her. She looked back at me and then gestured forward with her head. She walked toward the bathroom. \n\n\"I... Whiskers I can't! If I take off the oxygen mask I might--\"\n\n\"AAAHHHHHHHHHH,\"the woman screamed next to me, pointing to the window. The ground was now visible and approaching us recklessly. \n\nWhiskers looked at me, whipped her tail, and walked to the bathroom door, waiting patiently in front of it. \n\nMy body shook viciously from the adrenaline and fear. My head whipped to look out the window, and then back to Whiskers. \n\n\"Gah, fine!\"I screamed, tearing off my mask and running down the aisle. I passed by many more panicking passengers. Some hunched over praying, others screaming at the top of their lungs, and some quietly awaiting for the inevitable. They stared straight ahead, like they could see death approaching. I was just about to make it to the bathroom when a flight attendant pretty much collapsed in front of me, slamming his face into the door to get in my way.\n\n\"You need to get back to your seat, *now!*\"he ordered, putting his arms up as if to carry me there himself.\n\n\"You don't understand! Whiskers is here which means I have to follow the cat for safety!\"I stammered, pointing at her in front of the bathroom. The steward didn't even turn his head. \n\n\"I know it's scary, but you have to go back. It's the safest place to be right now and you are..\"his voice trailed as he stared out the window behind me. We were level with mountains and still descending at a steep angle. We probably had seconds to spare. \n\nHe mechanically turned and sat in his seat, putting his seat belt on. He looked at me regretfully, ashamed that he didn't try harder to save my life, but valuing his own in the face of my apparent negligence of safety and common sense. \n\n\"Maow!!\"Whiskers called to me. \n\nI smashed the door open and closed the door behind me. I stood in the cramped space, not knowing what to do as Whiskers jumped up to the counter next to me. She tapped a paw on the sink. I went to pet her and she scratched at me, hissing. She pawed the sink again.\n\n\"I'm--\"I gasped involuntarily, trying to get a grasp of myself, \"I'm supposed to turn it on?\"\n\nShe looked at me expectantly. I obeyed the order, and watched her dip a paw in the running water. Then she licked the droplets from her paw. My heart dropped. This wasn't meant for anything, she was just thirsty.\n\n*So, this is how I die.*\n\nThe plane smashed into something outside and tore a huge hole in the walls of the bathroom. My eyes started pouring tears in fear as I was sucked out the opening and thrown out the plane. I screamed the whole way down, but didn't die on impact. It hurt for sure, but I was in the middle of water. It took me about ten seconds to understand which way was up, and I swam as fast as I could. \n\nI was in a lake, near the shore. From what I could tell from the destroyed terrain, the plane hit a rock jutting out the mountain next to the lake, and I was the only one to be sucked out into the lake. Whiskers was miraculously on the shore, watching me with her deep, intelligent eyes. I couldn't see any other bodies around me. I think the hole I came through was only as big as the bathroom was. \n\nSuddenly, I heard a colossal explosion from behind me. I spun around in the water to see shrapnel from the plane flying in all directions around it. The whole thing had exploded on landing. I looked for another few seconds in pure shock before pulling myself to shore. Whiskers stood just out of arms reach, leaving me unable to pet her.\n\n\"Th... Thanks,\"I said, feeling stupid talking to her. \n\nShe turned around, uninterested and disappeared up the mountain. I wouldn't see her until my next traumatic experience.\n\n____________________________________________________________\n\nFor more *cat*astrophic tales, come on down to /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're possessed by a demon. You quickly realize he's never done this before." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The cramp in his calf knotted up again in white hot pain. “God damn it!!! Will you STOP doing that?”\n\nA menacing and undoubtedly demonic voice replied back from within Fred's head. “Feel my wrath, human! I will impose my will on you as I see fit! Your shell is now my domain!” \n\nThe calf pulsed as the cramping intensified. Fred grabbed the edge of the sink and stared into his own bloodshot eyes. “Look. If all you can do is give me fucking leg cramps, you're either an asshole or you don't know what you're doing!” Silence hung in the air. “That's it! You don't know what you're doing! Do you?” \n\nA voice roared in his head “SILENCE HUMAN! I WILL NOT.....” \n\nFred grimaced and quickly cut him off. “I will. Because all you can do is give me a charlie horse. I opened myself up to you. I performed the ritual correctly. I expected to be possessed by a demon who would guide me to greatness! What do I get? An idiot!” \n\nThe voice sullenly grumbled “I'm not an idiot.” as the cramping in his calf eased. “I'm doing the best I can.” Fred eyed his own reflection as his face drew into a contemptuous sneer. His own sneer. Not the demon's. “And now I know that demons can pout.” \n\n“I'm not pouting!” the demon replied in a tone that was definitely pouting. “Do you think it's easy to just pop right in to someone and hit the ground running? For all the times I've done this I....” \n\nFred cut him off again. “How many?” The demon went silent. “HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU DONE THIS, DEMON?”\n\nThe demon sheepishly replied “Well. There's this time.” \n\n“And?” Fred queried. \n\nThe demon coughed. “Just this time.” \n\nFred shook his head and sat down on the toilet. The cold porcelain pressed into his back. He looked at his naked body and studied the sigils he'd painted on himself for the earlier ritual. “Fine, demon. We're soul bonded, so I'm stuck with you. You and I are going to work together. I am going to teach you how to properly possess a human being. We are going to achieve greatness together. Do you understand me?” Silence hung in the air. “I SAID.... DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, DEMON?” \n\nA quiet, “Yes.” echoed within his head. \n\n“Now, demon, tell me your name.” “My name is Philbert.” the demon replied in a still-pouty tone. Fred rested his head in his hands. This was going to be a long and trying lifetime.\n\nEdit: Line breaks!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Andy grew up and enlisted in the military, continuing to carry his favorite toys Buzz and Woody along with him on deployment as sentimental reminders. Now, injured and pinned down under heavy fire his childhood pals agree they cannot remain idle any longer with Andy's life in jeopardy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Around the time that Bonnie outgrew the toys, I had my own kids. And what better toys to give them than those which I had played with my whole life? The whole gang was still pretty much intact, but their leader had to be Mr Potato Head or Slinky or Hamm by now.\n\nWoody and Buzz were about the size of a standard M4 magazine. Maybe a little bigger. Regardless, my vest had space for them, and there they stayed. In the military academy, they stayed hidden in my duffel bag. When I put them at my bedside on the first day, a particularly nasty drill instructor had said \"If you get to have toys, I want every single cadet in this building to have toys by the end of the week.\"Standardisation, regimentation, part and parcel of the military. When I commissioned and shipped out, I could hear the sergeants and enlisted men behind my back, sniggering about that young butterbar who kept toys in his vest. Still, the stress of battle and my own capabilities kept such jibes to a minimum.\n\nWhich brings us now to this point, where I'm pinned down behind a wall taking cover against what sounds like five AKMs and an RPG. There's no way our small patrol can take out this one; the only thing left for us to do is a tactical retreat. But more importantly, there's a bullet in my gut. I'm just thankful that it didn't hurt Woody and Buzz, but it hurts, and I definitely can no longer stand up and shoot straight. The only thing I can do is to wait for the medics. My men are slowly being evacuated, one by one, while continuously being shot at.\n\nAs I lay dying, I hear the familiar tearing of Velcro. My ears perk up, well trained by the times the drill instructors used to tear open our vests to steal the combat essentials inside. But this time, there is nobody by my side and something is wiggling out of the vest...\n\nIf I weren't dying now, I wouldn't have believed that Woody and Buzz were crawling out of the vest. I was never religious, so I don't think this counts as an act of God or something similar.\n\nI can only lie there as they make their advance. \n\nSee, I'd always known there was something up with my toys. They could move and talk, but preferred not to show it in front of me. Kids are more observant than you think, and the toys sometimes overlook crucial details when they move around. But I knew that if I told anyone, they'd call me crazy. I guess it helped a little in the Academy too; on the nights when I was really too tired to polish my dress shoes, the next morning they'd pass the inspections. And now, I get to see it for real.\n\nWoody and Buzz are lugging along my toggle rope that's way too large for them, laying it out on the floor from building to building. Tying it taut at the insurgents' ankle level, a few feet behind them, they then run back to me. Woody gives me a wink, and pulls out my last grenade. Safety ring twist, safety ring pull, safety pin out. Grenade prepared and ready to throw. I immediately take it, and with my last remaining ounce of strength, throw it in the general direction of the gunfire. Any fighter knows that familiar green pineapple. They run, but trip over the toggle rope. \n\nThe momentary lapse in firing is all that the medics need. Immediately, they rush to my position, load me onto the stretcher and make a quick exit before the bullets start flying again.\n\nWhile the stretcher bearers aren't looking, Woody and Buzz climb back into the vest once more. I feel a familiar tapping sensation. Morse Code! The last fragments of my shattered mental reality work hard to decode the tapping before blacking out.\n\n*Always there for you, partner.*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It finally happened. The day Santa dreaded. He has to deliver presents to the first kid to be born on mars." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shit.\"\n\nThe elves around the room watched the large screen with expressions marred in both awe and horror. It could not be overstated how tremendous a moment in history this was; the first human to be born off-world, on Mars no less. They'd hoped that the Luna colony would have had that honor, it would have been much less of an issue to tolerate than Mars; but the facts were the facts.\n\nThere was a child on Mars, and only two days until Christmas.\n\nSlowly, they all rotated in their chairs to await the instructions of the man sitting at the end, thoughtfully stroking his ragged white beard. If those humans were warriors for enduring the rush and stress of the holiday season, then he was a goddamn veteran. Thousands of years under his belt as the deliverer of gifts and bringer of cheer had hardened him into the guardian he was today.\n\nHe looked to his left at the equally wizened Mrs. Claus, who locked gazes with him. Her eyes were seas of emotions which he'd learned to read long ago. While they spoke of worry and fear for the journey ahead ... they also shone bright with faith in the only jolly soul around who could pull it off.\n\nWith a tired sigh, he pushed himself up from the chair and looked around at his council of helpers. \"Ever since humanity expanded into space colonization, we've known this day was coming. Sooner than we hoped, but that can't be avoided now.\"\n\n\"How do you propose we deliver the gift? Magic only goes so far, and time is not on our side!\"cried one of their tinny voices.\n\n\"We'll have to leave early. We can swing around Mars' orbit along a selected revolution path which takes us over the colony. When we're over the drop-point, I'll have to send it via orbital care-package. Might be a bit bumpy of a ride, but it should get there,\"muttered the old man, thinking more to himself than giving an explanation for the audience as a whole. \"After that, we can use the remainder of our orbit to sling-shot back towards earth. If we ignore a few of our re-entry protocols, we can shave off a few minutes. That'll get us more time to cover the eastern continents.\"\n\nThe elves around the table listened intently, only nodding in agreement and setting off to make emergency preparations once he'd finished speaking. He watched them with steel in his eyes, and a fierce determination that swore not to let even one child, no matter the distance, go without a present on Christmas.\n\n\"Someone tell Rudolph to get his nose ready. Space is awfully fuckin' dark.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Humans have always been feared throughout the universe for surviving in the harshest environments, drinking and eating highly poisonous drinks and foods as well as taming and even domesticating dangerous beasts. One applies for a position at your company." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "N'Tur thought back to the fateful day when he came across the profile of Dave. He had been terrified. No way could he hire a human. They were crazy. But it had been an inspired choice. Dave was now one of his best employees.\n\nThe fact that he still scared the shit out of N'tur was a different matter.\n\nThe screen on his desk lit up and the grotesque face of Dave showed up. He pressed a button and let him in.\n\nDave casually strolled in and took a seat. \"Boss.\"\n\n\"Dave. I have your next assignment.\"\n\n\"Cool. Hit me.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry? I would never hit you.\"\n\n\"Oh... No... I meant what is it?\"\n\nN'tur moved around uncomfortably in his chair. It was odd, of course. The chair was specially made for him, based on his measurements. All of the chairs were, nowadays. He handed a small spherical disc to Dave. \"Here.\"\n\nDave clicked a button and a holographic image showed up showing the target, along with the location they were last seen. \"Wait a second, that's...\"\n\n\"Yes. None of my agents are willing to take this mission. Too dangerous. And because it's so dangerous, the quill amount on this is triple the usual.\"\n\n\"But how... I thought... you know.\"\n\n\"As did I. Will you do it?\"\n\n\"You betcha.\"\n\nN'tur gave him an uncomfortable smile. It was weird. How could this guy be happy to go on such a mission? It was almost as if he enjoyed this craziness.\n\nDave took the disc and was heading out when he stopped and turned around. \"Oh, before I forget. Did they work out the tea?\"\n\n\"Ah yes. Marvin has been working hard on it. I'll have him send the latest sample. Check if he has been able to get it close to the real thing. At the molecular level atleast, its the same thing.\"\n\n\"I dunno about the molecule thing or whatever. I'll check the taste. I'd kill for a good cup of tea.\"\n\nN'tur sat up straight. Kill for a cup of tea. This guy was really insane. \"No. Please. I'm trying my best. We worked out the whiski thing, didn't we? We'll get this too.\"\n\nDave gave him a confused glance. \"Sure boss. No worry, no hurry. That's what my pops used to say. I'll go check this out and keep you updated.\"\n\nAs good as Dave was for his business, N'tur breathed a sigh of relief when he exited his office. \n\n***********\n\nDave got out of his spaceship and entered the bar, turning a few heads. He was too lost in his thoughts to notice anything though. He kept going back to the image of his target. How was it possible? \n\nHe went to the bartender and sat on a stool.\n\nThe bartender, after getting over his initial shock, came over to him. \"What can I get you to drink?\"\n\n\"Can I get just get some water? H2O.\"\n\n\"OK. Anything to dilute it with?\"\n\n\"Nah, I'm good.\"\n\n\"Are you sure, man?\"\n\n\"Yes I am. It's just water, dude.\"\n\nThe bartender stared at him for a minute but finally got him some water. Dave drank it in one big gulp and handed the glass back.\n\nThe bartender's eyes widened. \"More?\"\n\n\"Yeah. And bring a bigger glass. This tiny one barely wets my throat.\"\n\n\"I'm legally obligated to tell you that having that amount of H2O is....\"\n\n\"... is toxic and can lead to severe intoxication or worse. Yeah, I know. I'll take it anyways.\"\n\nThe bartender got him some water in a massive glass.\n\nDave took a sip and took out the disk. He brought up his target's image. \"Hey bud, you ever see this person here?\"\n\n\"I did. It was a couple of days ago. You know I had never see one before and now...\"\n\n\"I know. Was there someone with them?\"\n\n\"A beast. I can't really describe it. Small. 4 legs. Furry. Big teeth.\"\n\n\"How big?\"\n\nThe bartender pointed to a bottle. \"About that tall.\"\n\nDave nodded. \"Any idea where I can find them?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't know.\"\n\n\"That camera. Can you show me the footage?\"\n\n\"That... I don't know if I can.\"\n\nDave pulled out a few notes of the currency and handed it to the bartender. \"Oh come on. We're all friends here.\"\n\n\"All? Is there someone else. And this is too much quills. Your bill is for less.\"\n\nDave gave him a smile and raised his eyebrows. \"Keep it. I won't tell anyone.\"\n\nThe bartender was counting the money. \"Why would I keep it. Your drink is only...\"At that instance he looked up and saw Dave wiggling his eyebrows. This freaked him out so much that he just put the money in his pocket and led Dave to the security room.\n\nThey went over the footage and Dave saw his target refer to a map.\n\n\"Can you like enhance that? Like in CSI.\"\n\n\"What does the Center of Scientific Inquisitors have to do with it?\"\n\n\"Like make it bigger.\"\n\n\"Oh! I can do that.\"\n\nDave had what he needed. He gave the bartender the finger guns. \"Thanks bro. You're a life saver.\"\n\nThe bartender was shocked and scared. The guy had just tried to shoot him with his hands and also thanked him for saving his life. He didn't ever want to see a human ever again. They were fucking crazy.\n\n************\n\nDave reached the junkyard and looked around. Piles of metal everywhere. A good place to hide.\n\n\"Hello. Anybody here?\"\n\nHe kept walking along the path, old rusting spaceships piled everywhere around him. He heard a sound that made him pause. He closed his eyes, trying to focus. There it was again. \n\nHe followed the sound to the source.\n\n\"Hey!\"\n\nThe woman turned around, pointing her welding machine at him. \"Stay away or I'll kill you.\"\n\n\"Uh... Hey.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"I'm Dave. Who are you?\"\n\n\"Name's Tory. Where did you come from?\"\n\nHe got down to one knee and the cat came to him. It got close and when it saw that Dave's intention was to pet it, decided that was against its principles and turned back around and went to the woman.\n\n\"Mr Mittens doesn't like to be pet. Who are you?\"\n\nDave adjusted his cap and gave her a smile. \"I'm Dave, a recovery agent. I've been sent here to bring you in.\"\n\n\"Who paid you?\"\n\n\"I can't tell you that. But anyways, more importantly, I thought earth was destroyed. I checked. It wasn't there. I thought I was the only one.\"\n\n\"It was. But TekSystems, a big company back on earth was able to save a bunch of us. We were glad at first but then they showed their true intentions. In exchange for saving our life, they have us work the mines non stop. We go planet to planet, stripping it of all usable resources. I managed to escape in a cargo ship. I'm building a spaceship so I can go back and save my people.\"\n\n\"That's weird. I think TekSystems is the name of the company that hired me too.\"\n\n\"Well, then Dave. What will it be? Do I need to cut you up? Or will you help?\"\n\n\"Well...\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Everyone is born with a disability and an ability. A test is done at birth to determine these, if they aren't already apparent. You, well, you were born with crippled legs and have the power of super speed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "See, what most people don't realise about super speed is that it doesn't just affect your legs. Your entire body moves fast. People never tend to get that because you see guys like Ravel Alton sprinting at three hundred kilometres an hour down the speedway. I mean, it's more impressive *visually* than what I can do... but I like to think that my abilities are still pretty good.\n\n\"Checkmate,\"I smile, knocking over the white king with my own rook. Valentin, my opponent, stares at me in shock. By the look on his face, my guess is that his ability was mind-reading. It's a good way to become a chess champion, I'll give him that. \n\nBut he can't keep up with me.\n\nSee, from the femtosecond his finger touched the first piece, I started running through the possible moves in my head. All of them. \n\nDo you know how many possible positions there are after each player moves three times? More than 9 million. That goes up to 288 billion after four moves each. But when you can't move without a wheelchair, and when you have a brain that can scan and memorise information faster than anything else on the planet... and when you also have a lot of time on your hands... you can memorise everything. Every perfect game. \n\nNot to mention, of course... Valentin might be able to read minds. But he can't process information as fast as I can. Which leaves him unable to comprehend the million, million, million thoughts I have every nanosecond.\n\nI can't run. But that doesn't mean I'm not *fast*." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Last sentence: \"And the man with the mustache smiled.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Living life as a turtle meant I could live a long time. I'd have plenty of time to accomplish all of my goals. Throughout my life I had gathered riches, built castles, and attained more power than any other turtle before me. That was all great, but what I wanted more than anything was a wife; someone to spend time with and care about. \n\nIt was over twenty years ago when I found the woman of my dreams. However, she never loved me back. I tried desperately for years to get her to enjoy her time with me. I took her on all sorts of special dates- underwater, in space, in one of my many homes. \n\nBut every time I've tried to take her out, some god awful plumber shows up, occasionally bringing his good-for-nothing friends, and spoils my time. I haven't quite figured him out after all this time, but I think he's jealous of me. \n\nFor example, last week I took the girl of my dreams for a go-kart ride up to my castle since she loves the view up there. Next thing I knew, the plumber found me and was trying to smash my head in with his feet! He stole my woman from me, and left me to die. My shell was cracked, my love was taken away again, and the man with the mustache smiled." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "There are multi-Gods for the multi-verse, and it turns out ours is kind of like the 'cool mom who lets you drink at her house,' though other Gods look at our free will and generally silent deity as bad Godding on His part." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The gods of all the universes gathered to present God A1, the god of the first universe, the fruit of their labor. The Meeting of the Gods used to be a chance to share and discuss, but lately, a new radicalized god had been taking center stage, God C137.\n\nHe presented God A1 a thin bottle of green glass with dew clung to its neck. He called it *craft beer*. When the liquid touched God A1's lips, his eyes widened and he held the bottle to his eyes so he could read the label.\n\n\"You're telling me that there are many more variations to this?\"God A1 asked, handling the bottle like it was precious stone.\n\nGod C137 beamed. \"Yes,\"he said, \"And more are made everyday.\"\n\n\"Marvelous. Truly Marvelous.\"\n\nOnce again, God C137 would steal the show.\n\n\"And how did you do it? How did create such a drink?\"A1 asked.\n\n\"I didn't.\"Normally, an answer like that would've resounded in hushed gasps of air. But everyone was used to God C137's eccentric views by now.\n\n\"Your humans came up with this on their own,\"A1 said, chuckling. \"Of course they did.\"\n\n---\n\nGod B23 and C56 sat at the tables furthest from the stage. It was by choice. Their place used to be right next to A1 Himself, but once C137 joined the table, their worlds ceased becoming the best managed world's of Multiverse C and simply became a point of comparison for C137.\n\n\"He's so damn smug,\"B23 said as he grudgingly drank more of this *craft beer*.\n\n\"Shameless even!\"C56 said and reached for her third beer.\n\n\"I say that he just lucked out with his humans. He got a brighter bunch than the rest of us and now he doesn't even have to do anything for them to make whatever the hell this is.\"\n\nC56 nodded through every word. \"If I had his batch of humans, I'd set them straight. There wouldn't be any question about whether gods exists or not. Believe in me or I rain thunder down upon your house.\"\n\nB23 returned her the nods. C56 had the most stringent followers of all the universes. Her priests were the pastors of her world and her followers their sheep. As it should be. Through her world, she became known as the Pastor God.\n\nHis own universe held more leeway. He had allowed other religions to exist only so he could crush them with his power. He believed in leadership by example. Through his world, he was dubbed the Iron God.\n\n\"I hear they fight wars in C137,\"the Pastor God said. \"Not just any wars, wars based on countries.\"\n\nThe Iron God had heard the word before, but had ignored it when C137 was again bragging about his world. Countries were apparently invisible lines that marked land that belonged to the humans. What a concept--humans owning their own land.\n\n\"Ridiculous,\"the Iron God scoffed. \"It's because they lack discipline. They need examples of holy retribution to show them who truly owns their land.\"\n\n\"They need a guiding light before they all kill each other.\"\n\nThe green glass bottle shattered inside the Iron God's hand and he quickly grabbed another. \"If I were given his batch of humans, I'd create wonders beyond this silly drink\"--he gulped down another mouthful--\"he's wasting his humans' talent.\"\n\nThe Pastor God took a bottle in each hand and stored another on her person for later. \"Think about all the great things we could create with humans of such talent. They just need the proper devotion to do it.\"\n\n\"Or the proper incentive.\"Once again, scenes of thunder and fire burned behind the Iron God's eyes.\n\nAdmittedly, he had tried this approach already. After the previous meeting, when C137 presented television to A1, he had gone to his humans and decreed that if they did not give him a gift worth presenting, he would unleash hell upon their world. But all they did was sacrifice more virgins.\n\nThe Pastor God and the Iron God watched C137 laughing at the table with A1. He was probably sprouting more nonsense about independence and nurturing proper dependency.\n\nThey gritted their teeth and drank more craft beer. The bastard just got a better batch of humans is all.\n\n---\n\n---\n\n/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "To your surprise, a SWAT team breaks down your door, rushes inside, and surrounds you. Only, their backs are to you, guns trained on the doors and windows. The closest one whispers, \"Here they come.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Black clad and armed, the team of men that had suddenly intruded on what was otherwise a quiet meal for one remained silent, awaiting further instruction from their captain. Red dots paced slowly across closed blinds and the back door which led to the kitchen where Dave was sat. \n\nHe had barely any time to chew what cheap noodles he had just shoveled into his mouth before this congregation of bullet proof vests and submachine guns had burst into his home. Their heavy footsteps had become little more than a tiptoe once they had securely entered Dave's property. \n\n\"Excu-\"Dave began before he was cut short by the SWAT member who had took position behind him, placing a gloved hand over his mouth. The man leaned in to whisper. \n\n\"Sir, I strongly advise you get under the table and await further instruction.\"He whispered, slowly taking his hand away from Dave's mouth. \n\nWith blind compliance, Dave proceeded to push his chair back and get on his knees to crawl under the table in front of him, a cheap dining table which had never been used for cover before, suprisingly. \n\nThe timing of the officer's instruction couldn't have been better as Dave's quiet Sunday dinner faced further interruption. His windows burst and his blinds danced wildly as they were riddled with identical holes from the gunfire outside. Shattered glass and splintered wood from the window frames began to litter Dave's kitchen floor, and that wasn't all. \n\nThe team of men in his home had little time to react, and within the first few seconds of chaos, Dave was joined on his floor by two of the officers, one of which was unfortunate enough to catch a bullet in the visor of his helmet, leaving a bullet hole where his left eye used to be, which was now vacant and filling his helmet with blood. The second appeared to have better luck as he was on the floor next to Dave clutching at his left arm, his mask obscuring a pained look on his face. \n\nThe rest of the team had immediately returned fire, with more uniform precision than the attackers who had simply redecorated Dave's kitchen with a series of burst fire. The identical intruders took up tactical positions around the kitchen, taking trained shots of their automatic weapons through the clearings in the torn blinds. The gunfire echoed throughout the kitchen, and Dave couldn't even form an opinion of the situation over the deafening and deadly exchange. \n\nThree members of the team remained as the shots ceased. A suspicious silence crept over the scene, and the man who Dave assumed to be captain made a series of hand gestures, the final of which was directed to the hall which led into the rear garden of his home. An officer approached the back of the kitchen wall which made the corner of the hallway leading to the back, reconfirming his grip on his rifle before he breached the corner. \n\nHis actions were cut short as one of the previously unseen assailants was waiting for the opportunity the SWAT team had kindly provided. The attacker closed the gap between him and the officer, sinking a large knife in his throat, right under the jawline. The officer fired in a panic, reinstating the previous soundtrack of violence that had only recently receded. The captain who gave the order raised his rifle and wasted no time in taking a single shot. The bullet entered above the assailants right eye and left a neat crimson hole, which left a trail of blood falling onto his brow. Dave, still under his kitchen table, observed that the exit wound must have been much larger judging by the poor Jackson Pollock imitation that had decorated his hall. \n\nThe officer who had tried to turn corner stumbled back into the kitchen, he had dropped his rifle to place both hands around his throat, and the heavy flow of blood made itself apparent by seeping through his fingers. The gurgling that had replaced his ability to speak ceased itself once he hit the kitchen floor, and the blood escaping from his throat pooled on the kitchen floor, its edges racing towards Dave, forcing him to scramble back into the door of one of his cupboards. \n\nThe captain and his remaining subordinate seemed surprisingly serene about the turn of events, and after a few moments of this sombre silence, a message, incoherent to Dave, blared from the radio positioned on the captain's left shoulder. \n\n\"Witness is secure, over.\"The captain returned, and walked over to a rather shaken Dave. \n\n\"Witness?\"Dave feebly asked, not even nearly prepared to understand the situation he had been forced into. \n\nAfter a while, another uniformed officer, not of the original five, entered the kitchen where the captain had now sat Dave back at his table. He looked intently at the bewildered resident before pulling his mask down, revealing a similarly confused expression. Turning to his captain, he explained his shock. \n\n\"Sir, that's not the witness.\"He explained, beads of sweat gathering on his brow. \n\n\"Well then who the fuck is it?!\"The captain roared, taking a step towards his officer, gripping his ballistics vest. The officers reply was short and timid. \n\n\"Sir... that's Dave.\"" } ]