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[ { "from": "human", "value": "A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I gazed out the window and witnessed ribbons of gold and red breaking the horizon. Morning dew still clung to branches and blades of grass like a baby to its mother. It was a slap in the face that something so simple and beautiful should exist on a day such as today. \n\n\"Am I going to go see mommy?\"Danny asked sheepishly. His brown eyes were filled with a swirl of emotions I couldn't begin to comprehend. But I could guess - fear, sadness, anger, guilt. \n\n\"No.\"I said firmly. I placed my bigger hand on his little one. \"Not today.\"\n\n\"I think... I think I would like to see her. I'm very tired.\"It was the truth, I knew. I could see it in his eyes, purple and sunken in his skull. He wanted to be with his mother. Hard as I tried, I was never enough for him. \n\n\"Dont you say that. You hear me?\"I matched his intensity with my own. I wished I could transfer my strength onto him. Maybe I would, after all. \n\n\"Will it hurt?\"Danny asked, and licked his lips. They were cracked and white. I handed him a glass of water \n\n\"No, son. They won't hurt you.\"\n\n\"Not me. You.\"There was love and admiration in his tiny, sunken eyes. For the first time, it occurred to me that he may not be strong enough for what was to come. \n\n\"Me? Nah. I'll be fine. And when it's all over, I'll see your mother again. Do you have anything you want me to tell her for you?\"\n\n\"Tell her I love her, and miss her terribly. But I know one day we'll all be together again. We'll all be a *family* again.\"tears brimmed his eyes, swelled, and rolled down his pale cheeks. \n\n\"Son,\"I said. \"I want you to do something for me. I want you to fight. No matter how tired you are, no matter how upset you feel, I want you to fight like hell and don't ever give up. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"Yes daddy.\"Danny whispered. \n\n\"And know that no matter what happens next, I'm always right here.\"I put my finger gently on his chest. \n\nHe nodded, and more tears rolled down his white cheeks. I hugged my son intensely, probably harder than I should have, and kissed his little forehead for the last time. \n\n\"Are you ready, Mr. Stevenson?\"Dr. Byrd asked. \n\n\"Yes. I'm ready.\"I said. I rose from beside Danny's bed and followed him down the hallway, casting one last glance at my weeping son. \n\nIt took weeks to find a doctor who would do it. We had weeks, but we didn't have months. I'm his father; it's my duty to protect him. I would do anything for him. \n\nMy son couldn't afford to wait on the donor list for a transplant that might never come. I would do anything for my son. Even give him my heart. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your father is forcing you to marry someone you have never met. The night before your wedding you tie your sheets together and make your escape through the window. Half way down you make eye contact with someone doing the exact same thing a few windows over." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tom was many things, but a cynic was not one of them. He was a romantic. A true romantic, old school.\n\nFrom a young age he'd been fascinated with love stories. Memorized Romeo and Juliet – the whole thing! – and would recite it for his family in front of the couch. Couldn't get enough of romantic comedy films. Love songs. Novels. Everything. If it had 'love' in the title, he'd read, listen, watch it.\n\nHe dreamed of one day finding his true soul mate and, together, crafting their own love story – dreamed of finding the Capulet to his Montague, the Rose to his Jack, the Ilsa to his Rick, the Isolde to his Tristan.\n\nSo when his father announced that he had arranged for Tom to marry the daughter of the Ericsons from work, \nTom knew right away he couldn't do it. He couldn't have an arranged marriage, not him of all people! He was destined to a great love story, to a meet-cute, to rivaling families, to forbidden kisses, stolen touches, the whole thing! Not an arranged marriage! \n\nIt was no use talking to his father, though. Tom tried every argument: he didn't love Jane Ericson. He didn't even \nknow Jane Ericson, had never seen her! He was too young to get married to anyone. He was too bitter. The Ericsons weren't rich enough. It was 2018 and it made no sense for an arranged marriage to even exist in your typical American family and the very premise of this story was straining the reader's credulity!\n\nNothing worked. Tom's father was determined to go through with the arranged marriage.\n\nAnd so the date was set. And so the night before Tom did what any romantic hero would do. He fashioned a \nmakeshift rope from his bed sheets and he climbed out the window, mentally preparing for a life on the run: he would become a drifter. Join the circus. Write a beatnik book. Sleep under bridges by hobo fires. And somewhere between night trains to Tennessee, between the chapters of his road novel, between the roars of the lions and the juggling balls of the circus… he would find his true love.\n\nIt wasn't until he was halfway down from the window that he looked to the side and saw the girl. On the apartment \nright next to his, climbing down a bed sheet rope exactly like the one he was dangling from.\n\n\"Hey, who are you!?\"Tom called out, but even as he asked and as the girl looked his way, he knew.\n\nHe knew who she was.\n\n*Oh my God* Tom thought. *This is it. This is Jane, and she is running away too! What a twist of fate, what a \nShakesperian extravaganza! The very girl I am running from is also running from me, and oh how ironic is the \nuniverse than in both our needs to run from one another we will find the true calling of Cupid! How beautifully poetic! How amazing that life, like the glimmer of the diamond, can shine in many different ways depending on the angle at which we look at it. True love can be found even in the most unlikely of --*\n\nTom never got to finish his line of thought, because he reached the ground at the same time as the lady -- whose real name was Dolores -- and was promptly stabbed to death by her and her three accomplices who, understandably, did not want to leave behind any witnesses to the burglary they had just committed on Tom's neighbor's apartment.\n\nTom died, but if you still want a happy ending, Jane Ericson ended up married to a wonderfully handsome man named Victor. They currently live in Newark with three children and a dog.\n\n___\n\n/r/psycho_alpaca =)\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Dear diary, I’ve been feeding this creature that fell from the sky for a few days. It strangely likes to drink water, the liquid we use to fuel cars. I noticed a patch on its suit today that read “NASA”. I’ll ask it tomorrow what that means. If that’s it’s name." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Three days after his fall, NASA still hadn't spoken to me. \n\nIt quickly became clear that this creature was unaccustomed to the ways of my people. We Quelbrigs have been here for millennia, and most neighboring planets are at the very least aware of us. But not NASA.\n\nI’d managed to piece together the sounds of its name from what little English I knew. Remnants of the ancient language were peppered across my planet, but I hadn’t studied it, or its origins, extensively. The creature appeared perturbed when I called it \"NASA,\"but it hadn't given me any alternatives, so there it was. \n\nI'd tried all of the traditional Quelbrig hospitality - a plate of pickled tentacles made with my grandmother's recipe, a performance of our national anthem by the neighborhood quartet. Still nothing.\n\nNASA began to draw crowds. I peered outside my PlexiDome each morning to find a sea of curious, gray Quelbrig heads trying to catch a glimpse of the creature. For the time being, I'd put NASA up in my guest-pod. It didn't seem to want to go outside anyway.\n\nI decided to pay a visit to the town historian, Sleeg. As soon as I mentioned NASA, he perked up.\n\n\"I was hoping you'd stop by, Meeko,\"he said, pulling a miniscreen out of a drawer. \"That creature you're currently housing is a 'human.'\"\n\n\"A what?\"I asked.\n\n\"A human. Relatively harmless - although, as a species, they have a history of infighting. At some point, many millennia ago, there was a mass exodus to other planets. This planet - ours - became inhospitable to them for a number of reasons. I wouldn't ask NASA about it; it was all rather traumatic. But perhaps you can ask him what led him back here...to the planet he once inhabited.\"\n\n\"How?\"I asked. \"He doesn't speak a lick of Quelbrigese.\"\n\n\"Have patience, young Meeko,\"Sleeg said with a grin.\n\nOver the next few days, I made some half-hearted attempts at grunting before I realized that pointing and gesturing would do the trick. I mimicked NASA's fall from the sky with my fingers, then tilted my head to indicate a question. NASA sighed, stood up, and walked to our refrigeration pod. He pointed at it, then pointed to himself. Ah. Cryogenic freezing, perhaps.\n\nNASA then made an explosion noise with his mouth and repeated the gesture of his fall to Earth.\n\nI shook my head in dismay. Whatever act of self-preservation the humans intended had clearly gone terribly wrong.\n\nI returned to Sleeg's hut every night to learn every shred of information I could. I learned about the technological skeletons humans had left behind, and how we'd built our society from them. I learned about their homes, their families, their mating. There wasn't as much as I'd have liked, due largely to the antiquity of the original recordings, but it was enough.\n\nI learned that our planet's air was safe for humans to breathe, so I allowed NASA to remove its helmet - sorry, *his* helmet. I let him step into our cleansing pod. He started to eat more of our food, albeit begrudgingly. He stepped outside and went for walks, paying no mind to the stares of my neighbors.\n\nOn the nineteenth day after NASA's fall, I turned out all the lights in the house and waited for him to come back from his walk. Then I turned them all on to reveal a small group of us, standing in the living room, who yelled \"SURPRISE!\"in broken English. \n\nNASA covered his mouth with his hands, but couldn't hide the smile bursting onto his face. He stepped over to look at the Quelbrig sweetcakes I'd prepared, which spelled out \"WELLCOM HOME\"in icing.\n\nHe took a bite of the sweetcake, and I saw him laugh for the first time.\n\nAs he smiled and greeted everyone, cheerily gesturing and nodding, I was fully convinced that NASA would acclimate to our ways. Perhaps I'd learn his name; perhaps he'd learn our language. Perhaps he'd move into his own pod and become one of us.\n\nBut for now, being here - with the scent of sweetcakes and the sound of multispecies laughter filling the room - was enough." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You have the ability to know a lie when you hear it, and to know the truth when lied to. Society appoints you to a high judiciary position, but there's nobody to check if YOU'RE lying when you decide justice. Which case do you remember most?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "######[](#dropcap)\n\nThe bitter stench of Lana's death still coats my throat. \n\nI can still see her smile, the dimple in her cheek every time I said something funny, the tiniest quirk upwards of her lips whenever she was trying not to laugh. \n\nGosh, I wish we could just help those people, she said once, her eyes glued to the television. I was cooking eggs at the time, and I plated them before turning to see what she was talking about. On the screen, the protestors raised their signs and asked for justice for their loved ones. And the president said that the shooting wasn't on his orders. That the person who had been responsible had been fired. \n\nTwo lies in quick succession. \n\nAt that time, she hadn't known about my ability. My mother had told me that having power was a dangerous thing, and to never tell anyone about my own. People will use you, she said. They will run you under a microscope and lock you up like a lab rat. \n\nThat message has stayed with me ever since.\n\nI never figured out how I knew people were lying. But, five years into our relationship, I finally told Lana my biggest secret. Instead of running away screaming, she thought it was the most amusing thing. She would say all sorts of tiny lies, like what shade of lipstick she was wearing that day--pink when it was really lilac--and force me to guess if she was lying. And every time after, she would laugh, her voice like the clear tinkle of wind chimes. \n\nAnd she would ask me when I planned on using my ability for good. To help the world in a way that no one else could. \n\nI always put it off. Later, I would tell her, then kiss her on the forehead as if I was placating a child. And I was placating her, because I had no intention of using it to do anything. My dream was to live a simple life with her, have some children of our own, and to live peacefully. That was all. \n\nAnd it should have been all. \n\nExcept I can still hear the ringing of the telephone that day that felt so ominous. I had looked at the unknown number for a while before deciding to pick up. \n\nHello? \n\nHi, Mr. Lancaster. Lana Smith listed you as her emergency contact, and we're calling you because she's currently in the hospital... \n\nI couldn't hear the rest over the buzzing in my head, the pen in my hand blurring as I wrote down the hospital's address. I couldn't even remember when I had gotten the pen and paper.\n\nThe hospital. I needed to get to the hospital. \n\nThe drive was short, almost shorter than I'd believed possible, just ten minutes from my apartment running through red lights to get there, but it was already too late. \n\nA man--a boy--was sitting there, his face in his hands. He walked up to me when he saw me, his face contorted into an expression of regret. \"I didn't mean to hit her. I'm sorry, dude,\"he said. He had sandy blonde hair and neon shorts. He looked just twenty. A frat boy. \n\nTwo lies. \n\nI wanted to hit him, to smack him then and there, but I held it in. I didn't have the effort to even consider why he had lied. To consider why he might have wanted to kill her on purpose. Maybe he was a scorned lover, maybe her attendance at the protests had pissed off his father. I didn't know, and I didn't care. I wanted him dead.\n\nHe went to court. His rich politician daddy got him off easy, and I watched in the back of the booth as he cried snake tears for a jury that took it all in like rats snorting sugar. \n\nFor the first time in my life, I felt an anger unlike anything I'd ever felt before. I saw red. I was going to kill that man. It was several moments later before I came to my senses, face pressed against the floor with the security officer's knee in my back. \n\nApparently I had tried to attack the boy. I didn't remember it. They let me go because \"they understood.\"\n\nAnd for the next ten years, I made it my life's mission to become *the* judge for all cases. So no one would ever have to go through what I went through again. I took down corrupt politicians. I solved murder cases at the drop of a hat. I was praised and glorified by the world. For ten years, it was just me in that courtroom, and a scribe to take down the decisions. No jury needed. Each case solved in half an hour or less.\n\nAnd yet I felt empty inside. Like something had gnawed away my heart, and all that was left was an empty shell.\n\nBut maybe God felt sorry for me, because ten years later, I am left staring at the boy who has turned into a man. The sandy blonde hair still remains. And the neon shorts still remain. \n\nHe sits in front of me today accused for being involved in a drug ring. \n\nHe only bought drugs, he says. He has no idea that he was involved and that he was a drug mule, despite carting over a thousand pounds of cocaine over the course of several years. \n\nThere's a glint in his eye as he tells the story, and I know what it is. Because he's telling the truth. So he knows he'll get off. The punishment would be severe--fifty years for the number of lives he's supposedly ruined--but he won't receive it. And so he smiles as he tells his story. \n\nThe bitter taste on my tongue grows stronger, and I remember Lana's pale face as she lies on the hospital bed, lifeless. I remember the way her mother falls to my feet, unable to breathe for her choking sobs. \n\nI remember her smile, begging me to use my ability to do good in the world. For her, she pleaded, her eyes wide and hands clasped together. Her bottom lip jutting forward into a pout. \n\nHe's guilty, I tell the scribe, expressionless. \n\nHe's my last case for the day, so I shrug off the black robes and set them down. \n\nAnd then I walk out of that courtroom and hand in my letter of resignation. \n\nFor ten years, I had vowed to myself, for Lana, to tell the truth in return for the people who brought me their truths. I had vowed to use this power for nothing but good. Today, I broke that vow. For her, and because of her. \n\nAnd I hope, wherever she is, that she'll forgive me for that.\n***** \n\nr/AlannaWu\n\nYou'll probably like my short series, The Immortal and the Time Traveller, if you liked this!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Canada has suddenly gone dark. No communication, no trade, no activity from within. Nothing for days. Alaska, now cut off from mainland US, is slowly ceasing in contact with the US federal government until a final correspondence is given: \"Leave us. Reinforce the border. Don't ever open it.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It technically started with the geese disappearing. It's not something anyone really paid a lot of attention to. People blamed climate change, and pesticides, and over-hunting. It was a perfectly logical explanation, and for dozens of other species, the correct one. Not this time, though.\n\nRegardless, it was quickly forgotten. A lot of people weren't that fond of geese anyway. Nobody thought back to it the day Canada went silent. The FAA was the first to notice it. Pretty hard not to when nearly a thousand planes drop off the radar at once. They quickly attempted to call Transport Canada, which is when they realized the phones were out. An assistant ran to the break room, hoping to pick up something on Canadian news on the TV, which is when it started to become clear that nothing was coming from Canada.\n\nIt was a good twenty-four hours before the various government agencies finally decided that something was wrong. They decided the best thing to do was to fly a plane over Canada and see what was going on. Given it's location relative to Canada, the first flight went out from Eielson Air Force Base. It never came back. Neither did the next dozen. The commanders in Alaska refused to send anyone else.\n\nWith all the confusion from all the various public, private, and government groups trying to figure out what to do about an entire country essentially ceasing to exist, it was some time before anyone realized that the refusal to send more planes was the last thing they had heard from Alaska in a week. Someone finally attempted to reach out, but there was no official response from anyone. Every branch of the military attempted to send something to Alaska, but the result was always the same, more silence.\n\nThe last message from Alaska was sent on a ham radio:\n\n\"To anyone who can hear this message, do not send help. If you are in the continental United States, do not send anything into Canada. Set up a fire line, dig up every gun you can. Do not let them get out of Canada if you can help it. If you are anywhere else in the world, be ready. It's the geese. We didn't know, nobody could've. It must've been the testing back in the 50's. They've become... something... more... nobody knows, because nobody has lived to come back... oh my God, I think they're coming!\". Gunfire could be heard in the background, along with people screaming, and some other sound, somewhat familiar, yet completely foreign, an impossibly loud squawking. The radio signal faded to static." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego.." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember every single one.\n\nEvery hero I’ve killed, and every devious plot I’ve pulled off as a result. \n\nSee, after a thousand miraculous escapes, heroes never actually believe that they’ll die. It makes it so much more satisfying. Because they know me, they know that no one has ever gotten away from me. So when they see me walking towards them, gun in hand, their reactions are simply...priceless. Have you ever seen a superhero cry? I have, and it’s delightful.\n\n“Sir, he’s breached the exterior door”\n\nI looked over at my lead henchman. Gruff, serious, experienced, Ron was exactly what I needed in an advisor. And as an added bonus, his men shot everything on sight.\n\n“Good,” I responded, a grin beginning to grow on my face. “Keep me updated.”\n\nThe Guard had been a thorn in my side for past few decades. The super-powered team had foiled many of my plans, but in the end, here I was, alive and uninjured. And as for them, all but one was dead by my hand. \n\nI’m not one for massive, flashy lairs, so here I sat in this small bunker, deep in the Appalachian mountains. My plans to descend the world into anarchy were ready, and airtight. The only blemish, of course, was the super soldier currently tearing his way through my bunker.\n\n“Sir, he’s made it to the bottom level. He’s about to breach the door to your office.”\n\n“Good.”\n\nFrom my desk drawer I pulled out one of my favorite toys, an antique Colt revolver. Loaded, of course, as always. I pointed it toward the heavy metal office door, steadying the barrel with my forearm. \n\nI glanced to my right, watching the security cameras that kept this pesky hero in view. His explosives had failed to fully dislodge the door, and in a heroic feat of strength, he was pulling it open, breaking the steel lock with his bare hands. \n\nWith the last of his strength, the hero finally managed to pry open the door, and leapt inside of the office. Instinctively, I looked toward the door a few feet in front of me, but of course, no one was there. The hero on my monitor was strong, but his lack of brains had led him instead to my identical bunker 3 states away.\n\nI watched as he entered the office, immediately greeted by a hail of bullets from the 20 soldiers I had planted in the room. There was no chance to dodge, no chance to run. When the guns stopped firing, the closest soldier walked over to the bloody mess on the ground.\n\n“He’s dead”, I heard over the radio.\n\nSure, it would have been nice to see the look in my final adversary’s eyes while the life slipped from his body. And there were so many things I would’ve loved to say to him.\n\nBut that’s not my style." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You discover a grand hall filled with legendary weapons like Mjonir and Excalibur. Each generation or so, warriors come to the hall to inherit a weapon that they are worthy enough to wield. Across the hall you see a forgotten weapon that's been collecting dust. You hear it call to you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A brief searing pain flashed through my entire body, and I woke up in the center of a grand hall. Everything was a blur, until I took off my glasses. Did I always wear glasses? Why would I have them? I didn't need them.\n\n*Who am I? How'd I get here?*\n\nI tried clearing my head. The lingering effects of the pain quickly subsided, and I stood. I was in the center of a grand hall. Marble floors lay before me, with intricate murals depicting great battles with monsters and man alike. The walls were adorned with weapons of every type; Each hung with care and easily accessible. The pillars reached hundreds of feet up, and the thousands of candles hung from chandeliers from the vaulted ceiling.\n\nI had no memory of anything, and I knew I should be afraid. Yet I felt only a steady calm. Picking a direction, I began walking. Perhaps I will run into someone. Perhaps I'll find my own way out.\n\nI passed a shield that had been brightly shined to a mirror finish. The mural on the wall depicted an athletic looking man using the shield to fight a monstrous woman with snakes for her hair. Looking into the mirror, I caught a reflection of myself. Skinny. Slicked black hair cut short, but without regard for any style. The marks on the bridge of my nose indicated a lifetime of wearing glasses. Pocket protector in my breast pocket. Two mechanical pencils and an eraser. A Timex watch adorning my thin wrists.\n\nSeeing my reflection, a memory surged forward. College. I was coming out of a classroom when a beautiful girl with long brown hair asked me for help on her calculus homework. I knew her. I don't know how I knew her, only that there was a painful familiarity.\n\nI kept moving. The next exhibit to catch my eye was a massive war-hammer. The murals surrounding that depicted a warrior fighting off hordes of blue crystalline giants. It was a beautiful weapon, and I instinctively reached out to touch it.\n\nMemory flashed before my eyes again. I was in the hospital now. That beautiful girl was crying. Not in pain, in joy. I was there with her, crying. We were holding a healthy infant girl. My daughter? A voice was screaming in my head now, but I couldn't make it out. There was something I needed to remember, but I couldn't dredge it forward.\n\nI forced myself to keep moving. I saw an exquisite broadsword, embedded in the wall. The murals depicted a beautiful and ethereal woman standing in the center of the lake, bequeathing the sword to a regal looking man. I reached out to grab the pommel, bracing myself for the memories to come.\n\nI saw myself, sitting at a desk, being visited by a sympathetic policeman. He was telling me that my daughter and wife had been killed. I staggered for a bit, as the memory of that loss hit me in full.\n\nI remembered their names. Alexandra. Ava. My wife. My daughter. I remembered everything about them. Our lives together. Watching Ava grow. Making love to my wife. Sweet sunsets spent together as a family at the dinner table. Long road-trips filled with obnoxious sing-alongs. Yet I could not remember my name.\n\nAnother weapon. This time, a spear. The murals showed an army of 300 facing against an impossibly large horde. I recalled feverishly working every night, often going days without eating or sleeping. I was driven. Diving into paperwork. Digging into stacks of records. Always searching. Again, my identity eluded me, lurking at the very cusp of consciousness.\n\nA sling and a heavy rock. The murals depicted a slender young boy facing against an absolute giant of a man. I remembered being in court. My relentless search yielded fruit, and I was giving testimony. The trial lasted for weeks, and in between court sessions, messages were delivered to me. They alternated between promises of great wealth and of painful deaths. I was driven, ignoring all entreaties and threats. And finally, I was vindicated. I nailed the ones responsible for the murder of my wife and child with tax evasion.\n\nI had reached the end of the hall. And there stood before me a simple abacus. A robust construction of wood and steel. And I knew this was mine. No murals surrounded it. I reached out to grab it, and the last of the pieces fell into place. I was beaten. Tortured. They kept me alive for weeks, as an example to others. And through it all, I never once gave my torturers the satisfaction of crying out for mercy.\n\nI remembered my name. I am Ted. I am an accountant." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/cvstw8/the_great_blinding_part_2/) is available!\n\n[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/cw5hjc/the_great_blinding_part_3/) is available!\n\n[Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/cx4djl/the_great_blinding_part_4/)\n\n*****\n\nI was maimed in the Great Blinding just like everybody else. One day the world was a colorful pastel full of life and movement and the next day we were blind. Not just some of us. Everybody was blind. Color became something that *was* instead of something that *is*. I could pick up an apple and not know if it was red or green or yellow or maybe it was just something made to feel like an apple. For a time I would talk about the delicate red feathers of a cardinal I could hear chirping outside my bedroom window. Soon it was just a cardinal, and finally it was just a bird. We lost color, and with the color left a little part of us. \n\nI felt the life trickle out of me the longer I was enveloped in darkness. Walks at the park were monotonous now, meaningless as the darkness there was as dark as the darkness anywhere else. I could feel the leaves; the little veins that coursed up from the stem and the ridges and edges of the bark of a tree. I could hear the splash of water when I tossed a rock into the pond but I could no longer see the ripples of the water or the ducks scurrying away. I knew there should be a meaning to all this, some entity encouraging me to learn to utilize my other senses or to appreciate the sounds of the world, but all I could think of was how beautiful it all used to be. \n\nIt has been two years since the Blinding. Two years of darkness. Two years of indoctrination. Verbal illumination, as they called it. We were told what we would see if we could see. We were told how it should look and what it should mean and why things were never quite the way we thought they were. It has been two years since the Blinding, and it has been two hours since I opened my eyes and things were different again.\n\nMy world was no longer black when I awoke, suddenly a long unfamiliar contrast between my eyes being open and my eyes being closed. It was offputting but relieving; terrifying but intriguing. There was color again. Not the beautiful oranges and reds and greens of autumn leaves, but at least there was more than just darkness. \n\nThe walls were grey and the world was foggy. Shapes turned to letters as I read the words scrawled on my bedroom walls. \"Don't tell them you can see,\"I deciphered, barely construing the different shades of grey that outlined the words. So I didn't. The paranoia overtook me as I hid my vision from whatever power had rendered me blind. I did my best to play it off, to not look at the little grey bird perched on my windowsill and to hide my excitement from my colleagues. I went about my day as I would a blind man, using my hands like feelers as I groped and grasped my way about.\n\nI tapped away at the keyboard on my desk, the lifeless machine reciting back to me my keystrokes and any information it considered relevant to my role. The firm had adopted seamlessly to the Blinding, installing backup measures as if they had been preparing them for years. I peaked. It was the same monotony it had always been.\n\nIn the bathroom I saw the words again, etched into the mirror they hadn't bothered to remove. Why would they, after all? We were all blind and mired in the misery of endless introspection. Mirror or no mirror, it made no difference. Everything was grey; the colors no more diverse than light grey and grey and dark grey. But there were those words again, \"Don't tell them you can see.\"I just stood there, looking at myself. My clothes were grey and my face was grey and my eyes that had once been the faintest shade of blue were grey and lifeless as the darkness we were supposed to be in.\n\nI shook my head. I fought back the sadness. I had assumed until now that color still was; if the darkness ever ended, the birds I heard would still be yellow and blue and red and the plants would still have green leaves and purple flowers. Instead they were all grey. I told myself that it was my vision, not that somebody had removed the colors themselves from our beautiful world. I found comfort in convincing myself that my vision was still impaired. The alternative was far worse.\n\nOutside the office, the street was grey and the sky was grey and the buildings that stretched towards that grey sky blended into the clouds just a slightly different shade of grey. But as I looked out, a flash of color caught my eye. A man stood in the shadows of a building, looking out at me from an alleyway as grey as everything else. His shirt was red and his pants were blue and even from this distance I could see the pink of his skin. It dawned on me that if he had color then the birds really were grey and my curiosity struggled to overcome the overwhelming sadness I felt. He stared, and when I finally met his eyes he waved me towards him and disappeared into the alley.\n\n*****\n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/cvstw8/the_great_blinding_part_2/)\n\n[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/cw5hjc/the_great_blinding_part_3/)\n\n[Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/cx4djl/the_great_blinding_part_4/)\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": "You've been captured by a serial killer. However, he doesn't realize he's the one in danger - your body count is much higher." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sit in the dimly lit room where he put me, and I laugh. Little does he know what he's facing. I don't even try to free myself from the chair - he's tied me there arms and legs with a strong nylon rope. It doesn't matter. My body count is higher than his is. He's in store for a shock. \n\n\nI hear footsteps. The door creaks open. There he is, a creepy looking fellow carrying an axe. I guess he intends to chop me to bits, but I just smile. My body count is higher. \n\n\n\"What are you smiling at,\"he growls, rubbing the axe blade with his finger and thumb as if the blade is a kitten he's petting. \n\n\n\"My body count is higher than yours,\"i reply. \n\n\n\"Is that so,\"he asks, holding out the axe, measuring the distance between us. He's getting ready for a good strike, By the looks of it, his plan is to start with a chop to my legs - don't kill me right away, make me suffer. He's that type of sicko who gets off on other people's suffering. \n\n\n\"Your body count don't matter. You're all tied up. Looks like your body count comes to an end.\"\n\n\nHe lifts the axe for the blow - right to the legs by the looks of it, so I was right. \n\n\nIn through the window crashes one body, through the door come another three. They're all me - I have lots of me's all in my control. They grab him, grab the axe, beat him to the ground. One unties me. \n\n\nI take the axe. Four other me's step aside. The killer tries to rise, but he's been beaten pretty bad. He can't get up. \n\n\nI raise the axe for the killing blow. \"I told you,\"we all say in unison, \"my body count is higher than yours.\"\n\n\n \n\n\n​" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're... You're Superguy!\"A teenage girl in the parking lot said, her friends giggled.\n\nJason gave them an embarrassed wave and kept walking. \"I'm just going out to get some groceries\"he mumbled.\n\nAlmost to the grocery store door, Jason sighed when he saw a police officer running up to him.\n\n\"Superguy, I'm glad I found you in time.\"the officer said.\n\nJason half heartedly reached out for the door, knowing that he would not get a chance to enter. Again.\n\"I really just want to get some groceries\"he said, already resigned to the inevitable response.\n\n\"There's no time for that,\"the officer said (Jason mouthed the words as the officer said them).\n\"A villian has taken over the bank on Fifth Street. She has hostages. We need your help.\"\n\n\"The police need *my* help? But I'm just a guy\"Jason said, going through the motions. He still had no idea why people thought he was a superhero.\n\n\"Don't be modest, sir.\"The officer said. \"The way you took down The Butcher last week was incredible. And The Viper just yesterday...\"\n\n\"But they just surrendered as soon as I got there.\"\n\n\"Exactly! After resisting the full police force, tear gas, snipers, they surrendered to you! You're amazing.\"\n\n\"I'm hungry.\"Jason said, his stomach grumbling.\n\n\"Come on,\"the officer said. \"I'll take you there on my car. It would be an honour.\"\n\nJason sighed and took one last mournful look at the grocery store. \"Alright,\"he said. \"Let's go.\"\n\n----\n\nJason arrived at the bank. The officers there opened the police tape and barracades for him. He thought he saw one or two of them bow to him. This was getting out of control.\n\n\"Good day, officers.\"he said.\n\n\"Superguy,\"their leader said. \"We're so glad you came. There's a-\"\n\nJason held up his hand. \"I know, I know. Villian. In the bank. Hostages.\"He said. Might as well play the part now that he was here.\n\nJason strode with mock confidence up to the bank doors and walked inside.\n\nThere, he saw a bewildered looking woman in jeans and a t shirt. She was surrounded by cowering bank employees and crying customers.\n\n\"But I just wanted to make a deposit,\"the bewildered woman was saying to the bank manager.\n\nThe bank manager, hiding under his desk, said. \"Please, take whatever you want, just don't hurt anyone.\"\n\nJason coughed. The woman turned and looked at him.\n\n\"Who are you?\"the woman said.\n\nJason stammered. This is usually the point where the bad guy surrenders.\n\n\"Um... I'm Superguy? Uh... Surrender now, before I, um, just surrender, ok?\"Jason said.\n\nThe woman stared at Jason. \"But I haven't done anything.\"She waved her arms around, motioning toward the cowering people. \"They all just started freaking out and crying, like---\"\n\n\"Superguy!\"One of the cowering people said. \"Thank goodness! We're saved.\"\n\nJason rolled his eyes. \"Alright, you're coming with me\"Jason said to the woman.\n\n\"But I---\"\n\n\"Just play along,\"Jason whispered.\n\nHe took the woman by the shoulder and lead her toward the back of the bank.\n\n\"There's a rear door exit back here,\"he whispered. \"You want to go grab a bite to eat?\"\n\nThe woman looked around. \"And maybe a drink...\"she said.\n\n\"Definitely.\"Jason said, smiling for the first time in weeks. \"Let's go.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "To extend your life, you've played Death in many games and beaten him. However, after your last game, you begin to see that Death has been losing to you on purpose." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The first time it happened, I was twenty-seven.\n\n\"Please,\"I begged as the black hooded figure descended on me - or rather, my body, trapped in a pool of its own blood - “I’m too young to die. *Please.*”\n\nThe hooded figure paused. If I could still breathe I would have held my breath, but as it happened all I did was gaze searchingly at the darkness where its (his? hers?) face should be.\n\n“Alright,” it said at last. “But only on the condition that you beat me at a game.”\n\n“What game?”\n\n“You can choose.”\n\nIn a sort of desperate disbelief I said the first thing that came to mind: “Rock paper scissors.”\n\nDeath nodded.\n\nWe played. Death’s gloved fingers curled up in a fist. I played paper.\n\n~\n\nI had thought that I was lucky to get that one chance at life again, but then it happened another time. I was on my deathbed with terminal leukaemia. When Death appeared I was perfectly happy to go with it - after all, I wasn’t going to be lucky enough to get another chance, was I?\n\n“You can play another game, you know.”\n\nI wasn’t going to pass the chance up. So we did.\n\nThe doctors would go on to call me a miracle.\n\n~ \n\nIt happened, again and again. Every time I felt the life seep out of me, Death would be there, and we would play a game. And I would win.\n\nThe first time I noticed something wrong, I was a hundred and three.\n\n“You’ve been losing to me on purpose.”\n\nDeath said and did nothing, but for some reason its silence compelled an elaboration. \n\n“Look at this!” I exclaimed, gesturing to the chessboard between us. “You just trapped your King in a corner, and now I can checkmate you in two moves. That was just bloody stupid - you had so many other options, and went with the worst one.”\n\nDeath continued its silent hunch over the board. I felt that it was judging me - but then, when was it not? \n\n“I was wondering when you would notice.” It said at last, its low, unaccented voice somehow seeming more disembodied than usual. “Would you like me to stop?”\n\nI blinked. “Stop? You mean stop losing on purpose?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\nI stared. My instinctive answer was ‘yes’ - but did I really want to lose my immortality? I still had so many more things I wanted to see and do. I wanted to write a book. I wanted to travel to the ends of the Earth. I wanted to live to see what the future had in store.\n\n“No,” I said.\n\nDeath was, as usual, expressionless, but I had the most extraordinary feeling that it was smiling. “Good,” it said. “And now you will go on the next stage of your journey.”\n\nIt stood, and motioned for me to so the same. For some reason I found myself unable to speak or protest. “You have received a taste of immortality, and you have agreed to take it further. I am tired; and as per Section IV, Clause 32 of the Grim Reaper Handbook, I am officially handing the title of “Death” over to you.”\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your family line suffers from a pirate curse: A demonic shark will manifest itself in nearby sources of water and harrow you and your ancestors. You live three-hundred miles from any body of water and this has made the shark get...creative." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Johnny was getting creative.\n\nFor clarification, Johnny was the name of the demon shark who sporadically appeared in my life and attempted to kill me. His actual name was Jœhņňý the Eradicator, but that was too difficult to pronounce. When I was three, he appeared in my kiddy pool. When I was fourteen, he appeared in my aquarium in place of my frog, Mr. Hoppers. I hadn't seen him in a while, and, living in Arizona, there wasn't much water he could pop up in.\n\nHe appeared again last night when I attempted to get a glass of water. Before I could take a swig, Johhny appeared out of the glass and flipped onto the floor, teeth gnashing violently.\n\nThen he started suffocating.\n\nReacting quickly, I filled my sink with water and tossed him in. After a while he finally calmed down and surfaced, glaring at me with fearsome red eyes.\n\n\"You make my job so difficult.\"\n\n\"How about a 'thank you' for saving your life?\"I asked. Johnny closed his eyes and shook his head. I smiled. \"You're looking smaller than ever.\"\n\n\"I takes me years to change my size. YEARS! Why can't you just live near a lake or something? Jesus.\"Johnny sighed. \"So anyway, how are the kids?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Finally medical technology has reached the point where humans can survive to be over 200 years old. It is at this moment that humanity discovers as a species we have a 200 year pupation period." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Any changes?\"\n\nDr. Arelkas shook her head in response. She didn't understand why Mr. Patel insisted on asking her such questions when he was perfectly capable of looking through the glass and seeing for himself the condition of his father. \n\nThe Chrysalis took over the entire bed of the room beyond the glass. It was golden in color, almost like the color of desert sand, yet it was smooth and rippled.\n\n\"How long has it been?\"\n\nDr. Arelkas bit back a sigh, \"Forty-eight days. There have been no changes for forty-eight days. I said I would keep you informed should anything change.\"\n\nMr. Patel ignored her impatience and put his hands on the glass, \"He's a stubborn old man, you know? He could stay in there for a year if he felt like it.\"\n\n\"There is nothing else you can tell us about him? He never worked at a nuclear reactor? Never experimented with moths or anything?\"\n\nMr. Patel shook his aged, bald head, \"That asshole? Never. Construction worker for seventy years, then he retired, then construction foreman for another forty years. Hated doctors, hated medication, hated fast food. He hates a lot of things. It's basically his hobby.\"\n\n\"Wonderful.\"Dr. Arelkas sarcasm with as thick as her glasses, \"So we'll have a grand time once he-\"\n\nDr. Arelkas felt the spit dry in her mouth as she saw the chrysalis crack. She punched an alarm on her phone and rushed out of the room to get into her biohazard gear. Mr. Patel jerked back from her mad dash. He shrugged, and turned back to the window.\n\nIt was only a minute or two before a whole flood of doctors and scientists crowded into the room. There wasn't a single pair of hands in the room that weren't covered in blue latex.\n\nThe chrysalis cracked open even further, then again, and again. Mr. Patel pressed his nose against the glass and let his eyes widen as the golden stuff fell off in jagged shards and a pair of wrinkled, ancient hands appeared.\n\n\"Get...the hell... out!\"\n\nMr. Patel smiled at the voice of his father. The bastard really was too ornery to die.\n\n\"Can't a man take a nap without some kind of interruption!\"The hands grabbed the sides of the thing and a torso soon appeared, \"I told Raj that I was NOT to be disturbed by... oh damnl! There's a lot of you bastards. Get the hell out! Shoo!\"\n\n\"Mr. Patel,\"Dr. Arelkas approached the chrysalis and dodged a half-hearted blow from the old man, \"You've been in that thing for forty-eight days now.\"\n\n\"Woulda been ninety if I'd been left in peace!\"The old man kicked his legs free of the shell, sending shards flying into the nearby scientists, \"Outa my way! I need to piss!\"\n\n\"Sir, you're exhibiting behavior unheard of-\"\n\n\"I'm pretty sure I've had to piss before. Now scoot!\"Patel swung his legs out of the chrysalis and hopped down onto the floor.\n\nSuddenly, there was a lot of space around him. He frowned, glared, and smacked a smaller doctor with one of his newly-formed wings.\n\n\"If'n you're not gonna move, I'll piss on this guy here.\"Patel shook a finger at the doctor he'd knocked over, \"Now git!\"\n\n\"But sir!\"Came at him in a couple variation, \"You have wings!\"\n\n\"Why do you think I have to piss so bad?\"The old man grumbled and shoved the two nearest people out of his way, \"Goddamn Redbull.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kh'loss, Grand Admiral of the Kh'hrani fleet, preened as he stood upon the bridge of the *Indominator,* gazing out through the viewport. Out in the void, although he couldn't see more than half of them, cruised the pride and honour of his race. Countless battles had it waged against lesser fleets, and unmarred it had won each and every one. Today, he could feel in his dorsal spines, would be another such day.\n\nSpace combat in the galaxy had moved on from such puerile matters as actually blowing up one another's ships. It was now all about who could muster the greatest amount of strength and display it most engagingly. The message was very much *I could blow you up, but I haven't, so surrender now before I change my mind.*\n\nAnd it worked. Especially for the Kh'hran. The victor in every such battle was free to demand punitive reparations from the loser, which usually included signing on as a vassal state, a tithe of resources from their world in perpetuity, and so forth. As such, it was a very profitable state of affairs for them to declare war upon any new race that managed to muster the technology to achieve FTL flight. Such races simply didn't have the resources or the fortitude to face a higher-tech enemy in battle, and surrendered at the first opportunity.\n\nThe latest newcomer race called themselves 'Terrans' or 'humans'. Kh'loss didn't care either way. He'd personally given the order for one of his battlecruisers to go to their homeworld and strafe a couple of their cities then transmit the declaration of war. It had worked; the Terrans were on the way.\n\nFor a newly emergent race, he was a little impressed at the size of the fleet they were bringing with them, though it held fewer than a quarter of the number of the ships in his armada. Did they even intend to put up a fight, or would this be a quick surrender after the first pass? He rather suspected the latter, given the lack of decoration on their vessels.\n\n\"All hands to battle stations.\"It really wasn't his place to give that order, but by the Great Egg, he loved to do it, so Captain Hk'ralli could go rattle his spines somewhere else. The crew of the *Indominator* quickly dashed to their places, though he could almost *feel* the smug complacency that permeated the ship nearly as thoroughly as it did his very being. They were good at their jobs. Good at winning. He was proud of them. \"Transmit orders: formation One-One.\"\n\nThe battlefleet formed up around the *Indominator* in the classic 'reaching claw' formation which had brought them victory in battle after battle. Opposite, the Terrans didn't seem to be seeking any particular dramatic formation. Kh'loss frowned. This wasn't going to be much of a victory if they weren't even going to *try*.\n\nStill, it wasn't his job to show the opposing admiral how to fight. He was there to show the Terrans that they were there to lose. Raising his fist, he brought it forward. \"Staggered attack, squadron by squadron! Go!\"\n\nThe order wasn't really necessary; but once again, he liked to give it. Raising their shields--which were tuned to respond to enemy attacks with great rainbow lightshows of energy--his ships darted forward. Their pulse weapons blasted out, splashing against the shields of the Terran ships--no lightshows there, which was very poor form--as the squadrons streamed past, keeping impeccable formation. It wasn't easy, and it always served to unnerve whatever uncivilised races he faced.\n\nAs the last of the attack squadrons looped around and slotted back into place in the reaching-claw formation, Kh'loss made a beckoning gesture. *Your move. Are you going to reply, or surrender now?*\n\nThe Terrans replied, but not in any civilised way. Splitting apart into several fluid elements, they darted forward, at far greater boost than any of the attack squadrons had used. Kh'loss scoffed; what race could stand such gravitational forces and still keep a clear head for an attack run?\n\nAs each element wove around one of the four spurs of the reaching-claw, it became clear that Terrans were one such race. And then something else became clear. The Terrans opened fire on the attack squadrons, but their shots didn't splash harmlessly off the Kh'hrani shields. Pulse weapons, kinetic-kill weapons and *actual nuclear bombs* smashed through the shields and destroyed the ships within.\n\nFrozen in shock, Kh'loss watched as the pride of Kh'hran was obliterated. Even those ships which raised their shields to hard max and tried to maneuver out of the way were hunted down and hammered to flaming scrap. His eyes wide, he saw the four elements merging to swarm toward *Indominator* and her attendant battlecruisers. He couldn't run, not against ships with that sort of acceleration. And with the damage they were dealing, not one of his ships would survive, even if they did take a few Terrans with them.\n\nThe battle was lost. If he wanted to live, there was only one thing he could do. \"Signal surrender!\"he screeched. \"If you value your lives, we must surrender now!\"\n\nAs the message went out and the Terran ships slowed, he tasted the bitterness of defeat. How had it even come to this? He was the most pre-eminent admiral in the Kh'hrani fleet, and the Kh'hran were the most adept players of the game of war in the galaxy.\n\nIt came down to one thing, he realised, far too late to be of any value.\n\nEveryone had assumed that the Terrans played by the same rules." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You lose a dare at an airport and are forced to ask an employee for a ticket to the farthest destination. To your surprise, they quietly nod and give you a single ticket with letters you don't recognize." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was like Japanese, except drawn by a man with tremors. Strange, complex characters that looked almost like they intended to paint a picture in and of themselves.\n\n\"I think your printer is broken, Miss.\"I turned the ticket, tapping at the gibberish. \"This is unreadable.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"Gate F. Walk through E and show the attendant your ticket.\"\n\nI narrowed my eyes. \"Okay, but... Whatever. What does it cost?\"\n\n\"Nothing monetary.\"\n\n\"Sorry, what?\"\n\n\"It costs no money.\"\n\n\"Okay, but...\"There was an oddity to the situation, yes, but what started as a dare quickly became curiousity. I mean, it was an airport, so it's not like they could kidnap me or something, right? \"Sure. Thank you.\"\n\nBack with the group, I showed them my ticket. They took turns gawking at it, flipping it different ways.\n\n\"What the fuck, man?\"Harold asked, passing it to James. \"This is a joke, right?\"\n\n\"If it is, the cashier is a really good actor. I mean, this is crazy, right? Like, what the hell is this weird ticket? This feels like a Twilight Zone episode.\"I took the ticket back.\n\n\"You better get going if you have any hope of boarding,\"James said, nodding. \"It apparently leaves in twenty minutes.\"\n\n\"Yeah, which is even weirder. It should already be boarding by now, so...\"\n\n\"Send snaps. Maybe it'll be some private jet filled with Playboy bunnies,\"Harold said, ribbing James.\n\n\"Only one way to find out.\"I grabbed my bag, waving goodbye and sprinting toward security. \n\nThey took a look at my ticket, then rushed me through TSA pre and escorted me through Gate E. The guards all shifted uncomfortably as I passed them, and the attendant at the supposed Gate F entrance looked no more comfortable.\n\n\"Go ahead, sir,\"the stocky man said, moving to let me pass. He shot a sideways glance at me without bothering to check my ID.\n\nI walked through the hallway, which was lit well but had no windows. At the end, there was a door. I hesitated to open it, one hand on the cold doorknob. *I mean, fuck it, right? What's the worst that could happen?*\n\nThrough the door, I stepped into what was, at best guess, a large warehouse. Sort of like a giant garage, filled with all kinds of technology I hadn't seen before, save for one single thing.\n\nA Tesla Roadster.\n\nA security officer opened the driver door and motioned me in. \"Your ride awaits you.\"\n\nI eyed him, throwing my bag into the passenger seat before settling in. It was comfortable and sleek, modern in all senses. The doors locked without my input, and no amount of pulling at the handles opened them. Suddenly, I was turned upward, my weight shifting back, with a loud whirring sound swirling all around.\n\n\"What the *fuck*? Hello? HELP ME!\"\n\nPounding on the dashboard and windows was fruitless. The only response I received was that of a digital announcer, crackling through an intercom. \n\n*\"Good luck on your voyage, Starman.\"*\n\n-------\n\n*/r/resonatingfury*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A 16-year-old schoolgirl is taken to a magical world. She slays a dragon, becomes queen, gets married, has kids, and dies 90 years later...only to wake up back at school, young and in her school uniform again, like nothing happened. She notices that her wedding ring is still on her finger." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's strange how so many years can shift a person's priorities.\n\nFor example, one might assume that suddenly being decades younger and in an unfamiliar location would evoke feelings of panic, confusion, or perhaps some mild irritation at realizing that the world was not following its usual rules. In Ama's case, though, the discovery that she had somehow reverted to her teenage self was eclipsed by a detail that seemed particularly out of place.\n\n\"Why does my ring still fit?\"she mused aloud.\n\nIn truth, she cared less about receiving an answer than she did about gauging the reactions of the people around her. If this turned out to be a deathbed hallucination – if the other uniform-clad students were just figments of her dying mind – then their responses would be as out of place as she currently felt. It was a test of reality, in a way; a means of assessing whether or not she could count on various constants to remain in place. Unfortunately, the disapproval and amusement that she saw on the inquisitive faces of her classmates offered very little in the way of answers, as she was certain that her unconscious brain could have conjured at least that much.\n\n\"Is there a problem, Ama?\"\n\nAma looked up, feeling a faint tickle of recognition in her head as she locked eyes with the only other adult in the room. The teacher's face was familiar... as was the room, her attire, and even some of the adolescents around her, now that she really looked at them. It might have been more accurate to think of them as \"the other adolescents,\"though, and to think of the instructor as being the sole mature individual in sight, as the first thing that Ama had become aware of was the fact that her body had seemingly been restored to an alluringly youthful state.\n\nThat was why she had noticed that her ring still fit, after all.\n\n\"It's nothing... sir,\"Ama replied at last. \"I apologize for the interruption.\"\n\nHalf-stifled laughter met her ears, and she was treated to a self-important smirk from the teacher. \"Oh, no,\"the man said, clearly feigning earnestness, \"you are here to learn, aren't you? So what was your question?\"\n\nOn the outside, Ama allowed herself to look meek and embarrassed. Internally, though, she was rolling her eyes: She had met countless people like this teacher over the years – smug, condescending cretins who were too assured of their own power to see just how foolish they looked – and she was frankly in no mood to deal with such petulant antics. Still, given that she had clearly fallen victim to an as-yet-unexplained (and exceptionally strange) phenomenon, she reasoned that the wiser choice was to keep from challenging any perceived expectations for the moment.\n\n\"I'm very sorry, sir,\"she said again, this time weaving a quaver of shame into her voice. \"I should have been paying attention.\"\n\n\"You're right,\"came the harsh response, \"you should have.\"Another smirk followed, along with more laughter, and the issue was apparently considered closed. Truth be told, Ama was feeling more satisfied than was probably becoming of a queen. The exchange – brief though it had been – had offered her the evidence that she had needed: The fact that she was still in complete control of her emotions suggested that she wasn't trapped in some sort of dream state. If she had wound up feeling humilated or intimidated, it would have been a sign that she was beholden to the rules laid out by her mind; the same rules that would have been constructing this reality around her.\n\nAs the teacher turned back to the blackboard at the front of the class, Ama realized that she should probably test another set of rules. The fact that her wedding band was somehow still resting comfortably in its place (despite her fingers no longer being bony and emaciated) wasn't nearly as interesting as the fact that the adornment was still present in the first place. Furthermore, if her ring was there, then so was the secret inscription that was pressed against her skin... but using *that* for a second experiment would be very stupid indeed.\n\nFortunately, Ama had other options literally at hand: There was already a sheet of paper on the desk before her, and a moment of visual exploration revealed a dropped pencil near her feet. She quickly retrieved it, then drew a simple, swooping shape beneath a block of notes (which she was vaguely amused to see were in her own handwriting). Appropriately, the glyph may very well have been the first one that she had ever learned, not long after having arrived in the realm that would later become her kingdom.\n\nShe touched a fingertip to the appropriate end of the arcane mark, focusing her will just enough to bring it to life.\n\nThe brief flash – carefully hidden beneath Ama's other hand – gave her the answer that she had hoped for.\n\nHigh school was going to be very interesting this time around." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "After one’s death, the ‘creative mode’ is unlocked. You replay life, except everything goes the way you want it to. Unlimited wealth, complete domination of the world, you name it. Unknowingly, that play-through is what is used to judge whether you belong to heaven, or hell." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wasn't really sure what happened.\n\nI remember yesterday. I'd grown old. I'd seen myself in the mirror. My skin hung a bit loose and I had lost most of my hair. I hadn't lost my mind though, that was still all there.\n\nI lived a solitary life. A quiet one. People confused me. They annoyed me. I guess I was 'that old guy that yells at people to stay off his lawn' kind of guy. I didn't care what people thought of me, I lost the ability to give a shit a long, long time ago.\n\nI watched TV. I walked around the neighborhood. I played with Snickers, my tabby cat. Old runt, very soft, very kind. I read some more books. It's nice when in your old age, things in your direct environment don't change too much, or too fast. These were things I could do, that I could enjoy.\n\nAnd then, out of nowhere, I was five years old again, and I was question why my hand looked so blurry when I waved it very quickly. My first memory. My mom called me over to stop standing there and waving like a dumbass, that I go help her gather the plates from the table.\n\nThis was wrong. Very wrong. Where was Snickers? My home? This is my home. My old home. And Mom. But Mom has been dead for thirty-nine years.\n\nWhat is this? I felt so strange. I did what I always did when something happened that I didn't understand. I kept quiet, observed and did what I was asked to. Assimilate so I don't stand out. So I waddled, with my surprisingly spry little legs, over to the table.\n\nA man sat there. A well dressed man. Blonde, a suit. He was very large, but I wasn't sure if he was just large or if my suddenly perspective shift from an old man to a small child was the cause of this. I did not know this man. I had never seen him before. He did not belong here. My tiny gut told me to get away from him and to call mom.\n\nThe man smiled when he saw me.\n\n\"You're dead, Isaac. Welcome to the afterlife.\"\n\nDead? I felt fine. What the fuck is this?\n\n\"I understand your confusion. You're right back at the start, eh? All the work you did, everything you've earned, everything you built, gone. But it isn't. Isaac, I'm the guy that judges people for their, as you know it, Final Judgement.\"\n\nOh my God. God is real. Heaven. Hell. All of that bullshit, it's real? Aww fuck. Shit. This must be Hell. I get to live my life as a child for way too fucking long. God damnit, I liked being an adult.\n\n\"Relax, Isaac. I'm not done yet. Here's a riddle, to help you understand what's happening. What is the true test of someone's character?\"\n\nI thought of Spiderman. With great power come great responsibility. Spiderman was a hero because he chose to be one. Superman could have ruled the planet, but he always chose to do the right thing. Because he believed in people. I always wished I shared his optimism about people. But I knew what the man was getting to.\n\n\"Power.\"I said.\n\n\"No points for half answers.\"\n\n\"Power and no responsibilities for the consequences.\"\n\n\"Good boy. You have that power now.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"The power to change the world. Do anything you want. You want to destroy terrorism? Go do it. You want to kill the people you hate? Go for it. Get that date with Betty Haroldson you always wanted? She won't say no if you make her say yes and make her think that she wanted to. The world has no limits for you now. You are now God here. No limits. Have fun.\"\n\nAnd the man faded away. Just like that. I tried it. Mom wasn't looking. I reached out with my mind and moved the plates from the table to the kitchen. Mom didn't see, she was too busy taking inventory in the kitchen.\n\nNo limits. Anything I wanted. I could be a conquerer. I could bring world peace. The world would be my canvas. I can feel it. I can feel the fibers in the bookshelf. I can feel my dad's drunken breath on my cheeks as he snores upstairs. I can feel the soap breaking apart bacteria in the kitchen sink. I can reach out and manipulate these things, and I'm only five years old.\n\nBut now is not the time for these things. Right now, there's only one thing I really want.\n\nI walk up to Mom and tug on her dress and asked:\n\n\"Mom, can I have a hug?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Too bad, Confoundus, looks like my will was again too strong for your feeble powers\"said Artillerella with satisfaction, before making a gun gesture with her index finger and thumb and pretending to blow smoke off it. \n\nIt was her signature move, and Confoundus would happily let himself take a thousand of her easily avoidable inferno bombs to the face just to see it one more time. \n\nAs he was led away in handcuffs, Confoundus tried to appear defeated and angry, Artillerella loved a bit of anger. He couldn't let her see how happy he really was, it'd break her heart. \n\nArtillerella had come around around at a hard time in Confoudus' life, a time when he found himself struggling for purpose, being a terrifying being that the entire world feared had really grown rather boring. He found himself watching \"*A Hero Emerges, the Hero Academy Inside Story*\"on TV more and more over the years, looking at the new blood, hoping against hope that finally there'd be someone to challenge him. But every time someone looked promising: Cyclonia, Septeroid, even that overhyped windbag Heatwave, they always ended up the same: cocky, drug-addled layabouts who just went for the easy, weak villains, posed for some newspaper photos and backed down the second any villain worth their salt made a challenge.\n\nThen came Artillerella. She wasn't particularly strong, her only power other than the standard flight, enhanced reflexes etc. was her ability to create meteor-like orbs between her hands and hurl them at her opponents. They exploded with an impressive flash, and looked dazzling to watch, but unfortunately they took a long time to charge, were easy to dodge and really weren't all that useful in actual combat.\n\nNevertheless she'd captivated Confoundus, she was brave. While Heatwave and his gang of celebrity hangers on partied in a nightclub, she challenged Arachniarch, a villain at least five times her strength, as he threatened to unleash his horde of spiders on an orphanage. \n\nOf course she lost the fight, but she'd fought valiantly, and Confoundus was disheartened to see Heatwave wipe the cocaine off his nose and fly in at the last moment to nab the glory, barely managing to defeat the significantly weakened Arachniarch. Artillerella wasn't even mentioned in the news article the next day.\n\nHe fell in love with her. Her coy smile, her little blowing-smoke-off-the-gun victory move, the way she fought with such passion in battle. She was everything he'd ever dreamed of. And so one day, the long-feared return of Confoundus came, it had been oh-so-satisfying to smack down the pompous upstarts that had risen to international fame as the so-called strongest heroes. He beat the best, then the second best, and before long all the remaining heroes cowered in fear. \n\nAll but one, Artillerella. \n\nOf course Confoundus could have snapped her mind in two in an instant with his psychic powers, but when he looked at that determined grimace framed by that wavy red hair, he just... couldn't bring himself to do it. \n\n\"NO, how can this BE?\"he'd said, theatrically.\n\n\"My powers\"Confoundus had continued, waving his arms like a madman\n\n\"Your will, it's too strong, my powers can't touch you...\"\n\nAnd that was when the inferno bomb hit him. Such sweet pain, the burning fury of such a sweet honest soul coalesced into a scorching, searing agony that only he could love. He wanted it again and again. \n\nAnd so he escaped from prison, and so she, again, \"defeated\"him. And again. And again and again and again.\n\nThis was capture number... nine? Confoundus was pretty sure. \n\n\"Best one yet\"he thought to himself \"she's honest to goodness putting up a fight now, might be one day I don't have to fake it anymore.\n\nHis daydream was shattered.\n\n\"Confoundus, you pathetic old shite\"a self-superior sounding British voice yelled from above him.\n\n\"I've never liked you if I'm honest, but lucky for you we're on the same team, so I'll help you out of this one.\"\n\nShimmer. A pompous villain who carried two daggers and had the ability to move with astounding speed, even for someone with powers.\n\n\"Shimmer!\"Artillerella's melodic yet firm voice called, as she flew over to protect the police officers escorting Confoundus away.\n\n\"Get out of here, or do you want a visit to the burn ward, too?\"\n\nShimmer laughed.\n\n\"The burn ward? Oh come on. Maybe I'd have let it slide if I hadn't just heard that *exact* line from Pyrogladiator yesterday. Every fire hero's been using that one, for decades. Seriously, you're a rookie, let Confoundus go and maybe I won't slash you up too badly.\"Shimmer said threateningly, holding one of his daggers up to the light.\n\n\"Don't know if you've noticed\"Artillerella said with a smile \n\n\"But my arrest profile doesn't exactly seem too 'rookie' to me. A few years ago even you would be running away from Confoundus, and now I've got him wrapped around my little finger.\"there was that coy smile Confoundus loved so much.\n\n\"Now do what you do best, Shimmer\"Artillerella said confidently \n\n\"And run on home\"\n\n\"OK that's it\"Shimmer said, turning to Confoundus.\n\n\"Seriously? You let *her* take you down? Have you heard these lines? Is it possible to kill yourself with psychic powers? Because if I were you I would have tried by now.\"\n\n\"Enough!\"Artillerella yelled, as a glowing sphere lit up between her hands. \n\nNobody even saw the next move, Shimmer flashed through the air around the orb and slashed at Artillerella with his dagger. \n\nArtillerella was by no means a weak hero, but Shimmer was probably the third or fourth most powerful villain in the world, even Confoundus himself wouldn't have found him to be an easy win.\n\nBlood spattered across the pavement and Artillerella fell from the sky. Confoundus felt tears form in his eyes as he heard her body thump against the ground, and half-heard some witty retort from Shimmer before he sped away. \n\n\"My love\"Confoundus said, his voice cracking.\n\n\"My love why did he do this... why?\"\n\nThe police had long since fled when Shimmer showed up, and so no-one was there to watch Confoundus weep as Artillerella's blood seeped out onto the pavement. \n\nEDIT: I'm very glad people liked this so much, I'll begin writing the continuation immediately after I finish this edit. I'm so happy to have a post of mine get this much attention on this sub, I don't have a subreddit or anything but my comment history is a few more of my writing prompts (I made this account to post on this sub) if anyone feels like reading them. \n\nEDIT 2: Part 2 is up, I replied to the original story with my continuation. Hope it lives up to expectations, I wrote as fast as I could while still trying to maintain quality." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Instead of heaven and hell, when you die, you find yourself in a room with a six year old girl who invites you to join her tea party. It dawns on you, you're her imaginary friend." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I never should have gotten in the car with Paul. I knew he'd been drinking a bit that night, but I thought that he'd be ok to get us home, it was just a few blocks from the bar. The last thing I remember was us screaming as he swerved off the road and tumbled down a hill, a sharp pain in my neck, then... Nothing.\n\nI woke up in a pastel pink room. A little girl was staring at me with wide eyes. \"Hi Mister! I've never seen you before, what's your name?\"\n\nI backed away slowly. \"Uh, I'm Mike. Listen, kid, I'm not sure how I got here. Where's your mom?\"\n\nShe smiled at me. \"Mama's downstairs. You're just in time for the tea party! Mr. Snowball and and Mrs. Grizzly are already here.\". She walked over to a little table, where a stuffed tiger and teddy bear were sitting in front of plastic plates. She sat down at the table and patted the empty seat next to her. \"You can sit over here.\"\n\nI walked over reluctantly. \"Ok, but... What is your name again?\"\n\nShe stuck out her hand. \"I'm Sara. Nice to meet you Mr Mike!\"\n\nI shook her hand gingerly. It was strangely warm. \"Hi Sara. Look, your mom might not like my being here. I should go talk to her. I don't even know how I got here.\"\n\nShe giggled. \"Mama never minds any of my friends. I think she's coming here now anyway. I'll introduce you!\"\n\nShe ran over to the doorway with my hand still in hers. A woman was walking into the room with a plate of muffins and a pitcher of milk. She looked strangely familiar.\n\n\"Mama, mama, meet my new best friend.\"\n\nThe woman smiled and set the tray on the table. \"Oh, a new best friend huh? What happened to Mr. Timmy?\"\n\n\"Mr. Timmy told me he had to go for a while, but made me promise to be a good girl for Mama and Daddy. This is Mr. Mike!\"\n\nThe woman looked up and stared right through me. I stood there, stunned. She looked just like my daughter. But my daughter was only a few years older than Sara... A sense of dread crept into my stomach.\n\n\"Mr. Mike, huh? Your grandpa was named Mike too. \"A tear trickled down her face. \"Well you tell Mr. Mike not to eat too many muffins, and to be nice to you, ok?\"\n\nI swallowed hard. \"Will do, Amanda,\"I whispered. She turned to go. \"Will do.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You have found out that you are stuck in a time loop, reliving the same week over and over. Instead of trying to find a way to escape the loop, you train yourself mentally and physically for hundreds of years until you've become the ultimate human. Then one day, the loop breaks..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the days became years, and the years became decades, I continued to study. It started in small things. I learned how to speak Mandarin Chinese in the early days. At the time I thought *this will be cool.* After becoming proficient with reading and writing I decided to move on to other languages. Korean, Japanese, then into the European languages like French and Italian. Eventually, I think after the first hundred years, I could speak all the languages of everyone in my city. \n\nThis helped me when I started into science. As some nationalities have different specialties in science it was such an amazing way to take it all in. From cellular biology to atomic energy production I couldn't get enough. Really though, it was a way to stay sane. As I continued to wake in my small condo every week with memories of my past clear in my mind it was all I could do to not completely break down. \n\nI can't even tell you how many times I've seen Groundhog day. I don't really laugh at it anymore, sometimes it just makes me break down in tears. There was a period of time I hunted around the city to see all the tragedies I could help stop. Like 'ol Bill catching that kid falling from the tree. Like the other part though, I found a lot more homeless men that would die no matter what I did. Not specifically homeless men, just that was the scene that I could relate to my experiences. A few times I was killed during my rescue attempts, and just like Bill I would wake up in my bed. \n\nI started to get into philosophy once I realized that I had more knowledge than the brain surgeons alive. Philosophy was the most fun I think. Reading about all the greats, understanding more and more the longer I spent discussing with so-called enlightened people. \n\nI would have loved to get into better shape. I was in okay shape, small belly sticking past my belt, but my arms were strong and I could run a couple of miles in a single go. Too bad the body didn't keep the tone I managed to get after a week of training. What I could do was study martial arts. Man I had fun with those local trainers. The first few years of introducing myself they were patient. The last couple of hundred they couldn't believe how much I knew walking in off the street. Even without top physical condition, when you know how to move it's pretty crazy what a human body is capable of. \n\nI did some travelling. Some areas of the world I'm still working out how to get there within my week. A lot of places I could manage to grab a flight and started to train with world class fighters. It actually took a lot of time to figure out how to get a few of them to even allow me to try. If I hadn't already improved beyond the trainers in the U.S., I likely would've never been able to get their attention. Some random white guy walks in off the street speaking their native tongue fluently got me in the door most places. However a few monks took a lot more study to get them to let me train within a day or two of meeting them. Shu Long was the hardest. He's a Wing Chun master, and I had to learn the name of every member of his family before he would even look at me. Threatening to tell his brother-in-law that Shu had taken his cousin's virginity finally got his attention.. It was totally worth it. \n\nStudying with the monks I learned how to open my third eye through meditation. That opened up a world that isn't written about much. I can actually focus my qi to heal injuries now. Not a broken bone or anything serious, but a pulled muscle, or something like poison ivy won't slow me down. \n\nI found all the short-term investments that would pay the most within a couple of days. Borrowed money on my first day and opened up a personal stock account, dump everything on that one marijuana company that blew up over 2 days, then cash out and have enough to do almost anything I wanted. Max I could get together was about $583,200 in the first half of my week. Pushing beyond that I'd only have a day or two to enjoy the money. \n\nI lost track of how many hundreds of years went by. One day I'm meditating on a mountain in absolute silence beyond the wind. I had about $340,000 left in my account. I was so deep into my meditation that I lost track of time. When I came to I started my walk down the mountain. I could see clouds forming in the distance. I looked back down at my feet when I almost tumbled down the rest of the way. I stopped in my tracks and my heart started beating very quickly. I had been alive long enough that I knew the weather for every day of my week in every country in the world. I *knew* that there wasn't supposed to be clouds until the first day of the week after mine. \n\nI started to run full speed down the side of the mountain. I had done it a few dozen times before, so I knew where to land and when to slow down. My mind started to race. *Is this it? Am I free?* As I got closer to the small town I had landed my small airplane, it looked like it was true. It wasn't the day that the small yellow plane had come in. That red car by the entry to the airfield was gone, and it had been there every single time I had visited. I rushed to the small building holding the local air field office. I kicked open the door and looked up at the television screen playing beside the lone air field manager. \n\n\"какой это день?\"(what day is it) I said to him. He looked up and lazily replied, \"вторник.\"I fell to my knees. My head was spinning. My week was from Tuesday, June 4th until Monday, June 10th. It was *mother fucking* Tuesday, June 11th. The guy stood up and walked cautiously over to see what was wrong. I jumped up \"вторник!!!!!\"He fell back and started cursing as he went back to his desk shaking his head. I had so many plans. So many ideas. Now it was time to put them into action. Obviously the first was to introduce fusion energy in the market. Then I had to start working out the logistics of building my advanced carbon cleaning filters world wide. Holy crap! I can start to get myself in good physical condition for the first time in probably a thousand years! Goodbye little belly. I won't miss you.\n\n*edit than." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When offered one wish, you jokingly said that you want to fire proof. You are disappointed to discover that fire still burns you. When you accidentally lit the company breakroom on fire, your boss just laughed it off and you began your new career as the person who can't be fired, ever." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On second thought, I should have been suspicious when the genie had laughed after granting my wish. Initially, it seemed like he was just happy, but I'll be damned if I appreciated his mirth when the flame burned the crap out of my index finger.\n\nI threw the match aside as the blister, clearly a nasty one to come, began to form instantly. That was when it all went to hell. See, some matches are a little more wind resistant than others. This one was on the higher end of the spectrum. I had expected it to go out in mid-air, given how many of the damn things blew out when I was just trying to light a smoke outdoors. But this one hung on. The little match that could.\n\nThe contents of the trash can went up first. Then the pizza box on the counter. Apparently grease is flammable. The rest of the break room followed suit in short order. The fire department later said that if it hadn't been for the sprinkler system, we'd have lost the whole darn building. That was a Monday.\n\nThat Tuesday, I walked into my boss's office, fully prepared to accept my termination. He just gave me a slap on the back and said, I swear this is true, \"Who among us *hasn't* started a major fire in the break room? Go on, you're fine.\"There were 53 employees in our office. I was pretty sure the answer to his question was \"The other 52 of you,\"but didn't want to talk myself out of a job, so I left. On the way back to my desk, it dawned on me. *Fire* proof. Huh.\n\nI have come to believe that after the discovery of any superpower comes the testing of its limits. But as I soon learned, this power had absolutely no limits whatsoever. No one minded when I came in late. No one minded when I came in late and dressed in flip flops. Indeed, no one minded when I came in *naked*. I really thought that one would do it. Eventually, no one minded when I stopped coming in altogether. The paychecks kept depositing.\n\nThen I had an idea.\n\nEight hundred and thirty two. That is the number of jobs I now have. 832. I may be the world's first multimillionaire employed as a receptionist. Or 7-11 janitor. Or bus driver. It doesn't matter; I don't ever actually show up to any of them. I apply for every job out there, but my only real \"job\"is faking my resume and showing up for interviews. It helps that hiring managers can often be bribed. When I'm hired, my work is done.\n\nAt this point, I could easily stop, but each job is literally a lifetime income, no matter how low that income may be. My average job pays only $24,714 per year, putting my gross annual income just north of $20 million. All in all, I consider the \"confusion\"surrounding my wish to be working out in my favor.\n\nWell, I did. Until those goddamn idiots at the other pump got into a gasoline fight. A spark, a whoosh, and my last thought as the fireball barrels through me is \"Fucking genies.\"\n\n​\n\n**Edit**: First Reddit gold! Thank you kind interneteer!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You instinctively know everyone's name the second you meet them. One day you thank someone at the supermarket for helping you, and they stare at you wide eyed. \"Nobody has called me by that name in centuries\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At first he thought it was a joke.\n\nPeople had said that to him before. It was one of the common ones, everyone had the same jokes and just kept passing them around. It was a game by now. Something to keep track if the back of his mind. \n\nBut she didn't crack a smile and ask him how'd he managed to guess. She didn't even start with the overwrought bug eyed stare they all adopted. Her face was stone, watching him with an intensity he'd only ever seen from his father when he'd had to scare off a bobcat. \n\nIn retrospect, he should have guessed there was something off with a name like Nuriel.\n\nBefore he could laugh it off or try to explain, she had him by the throat. They were deep in the store, where the freezers were, and she carried him one handed into one of the swinging employee-only doors. Slammed him against a wall in the back where the ceramic tiles turned to dark concrete and they stopped caring whether or not anyone felt relaxed. He certainly didn't.\n\n\"I am going to ask questions. You will answer them.\"Nuriel's eyes told him there would be no argument. They didn't fit her face. It looked like that of a thin twenty-something. Exactly what he thought she was when he asked for help finding the Windex. Now it stared him down with all the force of a hurricane and the expectations of a queen on the battlefield. Dramatic enough to start leaking into his train of thought.\n\nOr perhaps it was her nails against his windpipe. He nodded quickly and she relaxed, letting him suck down lungfuls of air. \n\n\"Good.\"The woman kept him pinned to the wall with one hand. Staring into her eyes as they slowly shifted to goals. That she could sense lies didn't need to be said, it was obvious. Or safer to assume so. \"Your name. Since you already know mine.\"\n\n\"Victor. Victor Malkin.\"\n\nHe could see her teeth move. Wondered if they could rip out his throat like he was so sure her nails could. \n\n\"A common name. Mortal.\"She spoke the last word quickly, as though it would stain her tongue. \"Yet you know mine so quickly. We were not introduced, we did not converse. We have never met before this, I have never heard of you before this. And yet, you speak my true name to me without prompting. How.\"\n\n\"If I knew, I'd tell you,\"he said, trying his hardest to be earnest. Her disappointed frown suggested she believed him. \"It's just a trick I can do. Since I was a kid. Just...look at a person and it's like seeing it sewn onto their shirt. It's there and I know it.\"\n\nSilence followed. A long, agonizing silence where the woman searched his face for lies, nails tapping meaningfully against his throat. Suddenly, she drew in a breath.\n\n\"You...can sense names,\"she said, softly. A whisper even, one that he barely made out. All at once, her demeanor changed, staring at him with fascination rather than suspicion. A bit of wonder. Hope, if he was being generous to himself.\n\nGently, she let him back down onto his feet. He rubbed the place where her hand had been, certain it would bruise. Nuriel stepped back and began to pace. Moving across the concrete with a grace more befitting of marble. There was little he could do but watch until she was done. He didn't think much of his chances to slip past her.\n\nIt was a good while before she froze, deep in thought. Worried thought. Long enough for him to wonder why none of the staff had come into this hallway. He'd buy she was doing something. Had to be.\n\n\"I need to test this,\"Nuriel said softly. Then the world went a bit fuzzy. Lighter. Like stepping out into the sunlight and into cool water all at once. His throat stopped hurting. Something danced between her fingers, small and bright. Didn't do anything, it was just there. Held out in front of her.\n\nThen her arm snapped out and grabbed something lurking in the corner. A tiny, brown, squealing thing that was all wings and sharp teeth before she got it by the back of the neck and held it up to him.\n\n\"What is this creature's name,\"she asked. The little beast hissed at him, malice dripping from every line of its face. Scrunched like a pug and bat-like, eyes pure black and rolling in its sockets. Its arms were fused to the wings, little claws on the end tugging uselessly at Nuriel's arm, unable to even mark the fabric. A long, whip-tail covered in barbs almost caught him in the chest, the little thing screaming in impotence.\n\nAnd yet, even buried so far behind a shrieking animal, he could see it.\n\n\"Razeth,\"he muttered, glancing at the woman. She smiled, a wide cruel thing as the creature stilled. Stared at him transfixed, as if he had just burst into a sweet lullaby.\n\nIt was all he could do not to scream curses when she let the thing go, but it merely drifted to the floor. Wobbled over and curled up at his feet. A strange, clicking noise came from its throat. Like a cat. From hell. As if cats needed to be any more demonic.\n\nOh.\n\n\"That's...\"\n\n\"A demon, yes.\"Nuriel muttered, turning and staring at the door. The light disappeared and he could see a bit of something drifting around her legs. He didn't need to guess what. \"Drawn here by a mote of creation, sent to investigate why it would appear. Tamed now...\"\n\nOh. OH!\n\nHe'd heard of that. Seen it in videogames, books, an anime here and there. A series about a serpent with wings and a sad English boy. The power of true names. He'd never thought it was real. Never thought demons were real either. And if they were, then...\n\n\"You're an angel?\"\n\nThe woman turned. She didn't change. Not one part of her changed. But suddenly, a mid-twenties girl in a dark hoodie seemed like the most powerful thing he had ever seen.\n\n\"I am Nuriel of the Hailstorm, Fire of the Lord. You, Victor Malkin, are welcomed to the eternal conflict.\"\n\n---\n\nhttps://old.reddit.com/r/FiresofFordregha/" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You been a bullied outcast your entire life despite your pure heart and kindness. One day a horrible prank for you goes wrong, leaving you to die. Before your final breath, Death appears in white robes, and offers you a golden scythe with a name engraved on it: Karma." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You look at Death, standing tall in robes so blindingly white they hurt your eyes, and look back at the golden scythe. It's easy to imagine how you'd use it. The way every harsh word and selfish action would rebound back upon those who deserved it.\n\nBut...\n\nYou look at Death and shake your head with a small little smile. \"It's okay. I don't want to harm anyone. They're the ones that were hurting most.\"\n\nDeath smiles. Well, not really. You're not sure if there's actually anything under those robes. Their presence seems pleased though.\n\nYou feel a hand (or maybe just a breeze) on your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes.\n\n*Such a good, gentle child.*\n\nThe words aren't spoken but you hear them anyway. They scythe in Death's hands fades from beautiful, shining gold until it's just a plain and worn old thing, the wooden staff smoothed by years of handling. The white robes deepen to a black that wraps around your mind like a comforting embrace.\n\nYou feel the smile again and Death presses the scythe into your hands, surprising you with its warmth.\n\n*Good, gentle child. You'll do.*\n\nThe cloak falls over your shoulders and Death is gone." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Compared to the rest of the galaxy humanity is by far the friendliest. To many star systems they are considered \"the good neighbor,\"and are known for their helpfulness. One day an oblivious system declares war on humanity, only to find half of the galaxy responding to humanity's plea for aid." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Da!'kzor looked up as the human emissary to the eternal court entered. \nThe pink, bipedal alien prostrated itself longer and deeper than was strictly necessary; but Da!'kzor had long learnt his kind did so out of respect to his race's traditions and not as a form of veiled insult. \"These humans are so much friendlier than those obnoxious Alpha Centaurianeese\", he thaught to himself.\n\n\"Rise Human\", his speaker said. \n\"His majesty, the Emperor Da!'kzor, the eternal light, the defender of the Pascor Belt, the flame of...\"the speaker droned on for quite some time listing all of Da!'kzor's titles, so he stopped listening for a few minutes \"... the forger of chains and progenitor of all will receive you now.\"\n\nNow the emissary presented the traditional gifts of his people: A bottle of that dark and sweet liquid his thirty first wife liked so much and a box of sticky round... things with a hole in the middle. \n\n\n\"Honored Emissary I hope you have not come to speak to me about this Democracy thing again. Your people seem to fare quite well with it; but I doubt it would work in the eternal court. Just imagine, the nobles having a say in the government\"Da!'kzor suppressed a disgusted shudder.\n\n\"No you eternal highness\", the human said. \"I am here for a matter of grave importance\"\n\n\"Oh, is it about the Water again? If I remember correctly we gave you back all we borrowed from your oceans; and a bit more as compensation for your troubles\"Da!'kzor said with an apologetic voice not-befiting his station. He found it difficult to keep the proper decorum around humans. They were always so... willing to help you just had to be nice to them. \n\n\"About that,...\"the diplomat said with a frown, but then obviously pulled himself together. \"Today I am here for another matter entirely. I am here to request the eternal empire's help\"\n\nNow THIS was interesting. Da!'kzor leaned forwards in his throne, one of his tentacles ceasing to caress his favorite concubines eyes. The humans were always willing to help, but had never before, not ever since first contact hundreds of years ago, requested any kind of aid.\n\nHesitantly the human diplomat continued. \"We do not wish to bother the Eternal Empire with politics of earth; however the Felurians have seen fit to declare war upon us. I was sent here to ask, kindly, for the eternal empire to come to our aid in our time of need.\"\n\nA few Days later...\n\nEarth was a magnificent sight Da!'kzor mused as he studied it from the Earth's Flagship's Observation deck. If the humans weren't such nice fellows he might have conquered it himself. \n\nFinally Earth's Generals entered. The looked like a hard bunch of specimen, old and scarred and with the cold look of warriors in their eyes. Of them Da!'kzor approved. However he did not approve of the assembled high command of a hundred other species entering the large room, more a stadium than a room really, entering with them. \n\n\"What are they doing here?\"he snarled, encompassing the assembled military genius of just about all space faring races in the universe with a waving of his central eye socket. \n\n\"You highness,\"a general interjected. \"The eternal Empire is not the only government in the universe to have pledged to help humanity in this hour of need\"\n\nFrom the crowd a snickering could be heard. Doubtlessly that would be Rattak the high Admiral of the Alpha Centaurianeese deep-space navy. His nemesis, his Arch-enemy. The thorn in his side, the bramble in his shoe on his way to universe-domination. He drew himself up to his full height to end er once and for al, but then thought better of it. This was no time for petty quarrels over who controlled what quadrant of the galaxy. The humans needed him, and her to stop the might of the Felurians, and he would stand by their side in their hour of need.\n\n\nThe war was over in fewer days, than it had taken to assemble the great fleet of the grand coalition. Soon the red and white flag of earth flew over the King's palace on Feluria, the government had been reformed and the Felurian people now paid tribute to the earthlings they had so dismissively sought to vanquish.\n\n\"Truly a great day\", General Xi Liauging from Beijing, Earth thought. The maple leaf insignia on his uniform caught the light of the burning capital. \"Soon my beloved Canada will hold sway, from one end of the galaxy to another\"\n\n\n---\n\n---\n\n*Holy Canada, what happened here? I think this one Writing promt got more than 10 times as many up votes than all my previous posts together! You guys really love Canada don't you?*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It is modern day America, but everyone speaks in Shakespearean English. You are a gamer raging out during an online multiplayer match." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Be damned! Hast thou no honour? \n\nThou campest by thy shadows,\n\nA slumbering combatant of cowardice!\n\nSpeak! I charge thee speak! For thy family's honour!\"\n\n*I strafed right, flanking the back of the home on Nuketown before heading towards the road. I was sprinting;*\n\n\"Horatio charges! A white knight in flight,\n\nnay, a human spirit, armour clad in fright!\n\n*I opened fire on mine enemy, no doubt seeding him multiple shots to his hulking torso. He returned fire, a fatal blow. Twas but a scratch to me!*\n\n\"Twas not possible! I had thy's fate sealed in scope,\n\nFor he was just a man, like me, \n\nWith buttoned joys, victory his hope,\n\nPoorly go'er into this game, poorly yee shall be.\"\n\n*I changed arms to thy shotgun, seeking the spirit of close-quartered, honourable battle.*\n\n\"Have ye no man ready for a duel? - \n\n*A campest sniper head-shotted me cleanly from the second floor.*\n\n\"Nay! It is clear, scoundrels yonder, I'm thy fool!\"\n\n*I respawned abruptly, inside the dining quarters, approaching a poor fellow from behind and meleeing him dishonourably on the nape of his neck. A second lurked further in front, near the front door, crouched. I weighed up my options to shoot, or melee....*\n\n\"To press B, or not to B, *that* is the question!\n\n*I approached, ready to unload a mighty blow on thy's soon to be carcass.*\n\n*Bang! I was knifed from behind!*\n\n\"Thy dagger's edge hast pierced my armour,\n\nand with this, thy's will, for this is a world of scoundrels!\n\n*I threw down my arms in rage, quitting my chambers for the dining area. Twas a terrible night for thee.*\n\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Humanity has begun to explore the stars, but continually finds we are the most developed species, most alien species are still evolving. Suddenly, a message is transmitted to all human ships simultaneously, “WARDENS, DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR DUTY?” The signal itself is not of human origin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ambiguity is a dangerous thing.\n\nTake the question \"Did you put him to sleep?\"- are you getting your kid to bed, or euthanizing a pet? Kind of a big difference there. It's a great trick for figuring out if you're talking to a dumb AI. I read an Old Earth book about this once - about how some aliens contact us, but we figure out they aren't really conscious because they don't pick up on ambiguities like that.\n\nBooks like that were a lot less popular before The Signal.\n\nWhen you get down to it, The Signal was pretty damn ambiguous. *\"Wardens, do you not understand your duty?\"* All our star systems, all our worlds, all our ships in space - whoever sent it bothered to set up a transmission hitting everyone everywhere simultaneously, even in Hyperjump, and they couldn't ask a better question?\n\nThe simple answer is \"Yes\", of course, but the bigger answer is \"Why?\"- as in, \"Why are you asking us this?\"\n\n\"What are we doing wrong?\"\n\nThe Signal's problem is the word 'Warden'. Warden of what? Prison - are we keeping some eldritch horror at bay? Fire - watching for any outbreaks or disasters among the Other Species? Street Warden? Forest Warden? Warden of the Mint? Don't get me wrong, I like the idea that we're destined to be the Galaxy's bankers. Bankers have it cushy. But the other species weren't exactly ready to be taking out loans, y'know?\n\nSo we guessed as best we could. Called all their planets off-limits to settlement or harvesting. Stepped in if things got ugly. Stopped a few wars, bled off a couple supervolcanoes, nudged a big asteroid, healed a pandemic... We got kind of used to being their Wardens. Somewhere halfway between the love of a parent and the desire of a lover. But we still weren't sure. \n\nNot until we watched Them come out of Otherspace. Sixteen thousand ships, slipping into existence from a whole different reality.\n\nNot until we saw a world burn as They systematically slaughtered every single sentient being on it. No nukes, no asteroids, no fusion lances or pulse-howitzers. Hand-to-hand, or something like it. Still not a war, but a game.\n\nWe weren't sure until They broad cast The Signal again. \"We eagerly await the next Hunt, Wardens.\"\n\nOnly then were we sure.\n\n*Game Wardens.*\n\nWe were the galaxy's game wardens. Looking after whatever other 'lesser beings' were around. Put the predators in charge of the prey, keep them in line just enough to grow - then cull them.\n\nFor fun.\n\nLike shooting lions in a raised in a cage.\n\nDid they look at our history? See us drive ourselves to bloody conflict over and over, only to step back and reemerge stronger? Thought we'd embrace the role? I don't know - They still don't talk much. But I do know this:\n\nThey made a mistake. Another option that should have been blindingly obvious if they'd ever looked at our history: Because while They hadn't bothered clarifying Their question, we had chosen for them. We had become protectors, watchers - fond of our 'children' and proud of what accomplishments they wrought. We'd chosen to believe we were guardians, selected for the holy cause of bringing others into the fullness of their destiny.\n\nNot this next Hunt, maybe not even the one after that. But we're figuring Them out. Poking our way into Otherspace. Understanding Their nature. And some day, they're going to find out what the other meaning of Warden is.\n\nLike I said, ambiguity is a dangerous thing." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're a highly dangerous criminal who has been given 200 years in prison. It's been 200 years and you're still alive. The justice system did not foresee this." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My old bones don’t feel so old. My teeth are still my own. My hair never turned grey.\n\nMy son visited me once. He must have died almost a century and a half ago.\n\nHe came because he just wanted to see me one last time before he moved on. He told me I looked great. He said he was glad I was in prison, since he felt like it allowed him to treat me like a human. I must have been in my mid 40s then. He was mid way through college.\n\nHe cried a little while he was talking to me. He said he had always felt so ashamed all throughout school. He was 6 when I was imprisoned. And he saw me when they arrested me. The images never left his mind and the teasing didn’t stop until college when he finally got to leave all of his childhood behind. He wanted to see me though.\n\n“I missed you,” he said.\n\nI asked him if I could give him a hug. He said no and we kept talking for a while.\n\nThat memory got me through years, probably a decade or two. It was one of the few things that made me feel human. I hadn’t felt human since I went off to prison in the first place. Losing my family was everything to me.\n\nI was about seventy when the doctors started coming. Everyone just thought I must have taken really good care of myself up until then. But the testing lasted forever. I still haven’t found out who actually initiated the studies into my physiology. Maybe the government, I don't know who I have to blame.\n\nEventually the experiments got really bad. For the first fifteen or twenty years they were just monitoring me and drawing blood and taking other samples. Once I was approaching 90 they started testing me.\n\nI had no one to talk to when they injected me with viruses and I was sick for a week, thinking I was laying on my deathbed. I didn’t have anyone on my side when they took off my fingertip to see how it would regrow. It took months before it returned to normal.\n\nBut that was only the beginning. They eventually tested things in a more extreme way. They had thoroughly found that my body would fully recover from anything normal. They fed me just rice for months to see how my body would respond to nutrient deficits.\n\nThey started getting more eager with the snipping and took off my finger past the bone. I wasn’t excited when the bone grew back, but they moved past the doctors at that point and had scientists come in who specialized in the regenerative properties of axolotls.\n\nThey were ecstatic, they’d never successfully regrown human limbs even with advanced stem cell therapy. They were shown the finger trick again.\n\nOne of them was a cute girl scientist. I knew they didn’t think of me as a human once they were told what I did, but she saw my eyes more than anyone else ever had. I think she at least felt sorry for what they were doing to another human.\n\nI thought we might be friends so I told her not to hold back for my sake, she should do what her passion demands of her.\n\nShe ended up sending me a letter when she became old, secretly delivered by hand. She said she felt horrible for what she did and begged me to forgive her. She never visited though.\n\nIt was when I had about seventy or eighty years left on my sentence that the experiments started to bear fruit for the worse. They discovered how to perform a treatment to give others the same immortal cells I had. Now it wasn’t that each cell I had was immortal. It was just that the years never damaged my DNA. Nor did UV rays affect me. There was nothing that would wear down my resilient body.\n\nAt this point I hadn’t seen other prisoners in maybe 60 years. They kept me isolated in a secret facility so I wouldn’t talk. And once they unlocked my immortality, the experiments slowed down. They had effectively exhausted my resources and couldn’t learn anything else from my poor tired body.\n\nThere is one thing that immortality has little positive effect on, as far as immortality goes. That is the brain. And that they used to their advantage. They kept me weak and fed me very little for the last 60 years of my sentence. I wasn’t in the system anymore as far as I could tell so I didn’t know why they wouldn’t just kill me. I knew I wasn’t human anymore. I didn’t care. I’d tried to kill myself enough times but I could never finish the job. I was too afraid for the more efficient methods, and the other things I tried didn’t work.\n\nMy mind went on and on. And then on my 230th birthday, good news came.\n\nI was barely a shell of a man, but a small investigation started when my sentence ended and there was no record of my death. There were no doctors or scientists still alive from when the experimenting had started, so there was no way to know for sure what happened. I knew they had to have pronounced me dead at some point so no one would come poking around.\n\nBut I got out. They found me in my cell, the most docile of my species. The most reformed violent man in history.\n\nBut Dr. Stevens, the kindest of the ones who carried out my sentence, I know it was you. So I thank you.\n\nNow I return to a world of immortals, of which I am the first. But we aren’t all the same. The poor still die. The armies of other nations still have amputees. There are still those who die of sickness, who die malnourished.\n\nMy life was spent to create this world, my suffering bore the fruit that lead to this place. I guess I’ll go. The first immortal man. The oldest person alive. I’ll use what little fame I now have, and I’ll do what I can to even the playing field. My gifts were stolen without cost. So too should they be given freely." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Years ago you found a baby dragon that had been abandoned. You carefully helped mend its wounds and taught it to hunt and survive on its own. Now, years later, the dragon has returned to you with some of its young. It wants you to raise its weakest hatchling." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If you were a lonely old woman like me you’d have taken in that whelp too.\n\n Three years ago Razora nearly bit off my finger when I first fed her that old cellar mouse. Hiding her in the haystacks was easy until she nearly burnt down the barn with a mere sneeze. By the time she was the size of a shed, the village had left me to live in the needle-rocked mountains just south where the rivers kiss the sea. \n\nAnd when Razora left, I wanted to fly with her, grasp neatly onto her scales and fly someplace new. She took my collar by the teeth and carried me back to the village. The mayor held his straw hat tight to his scalp from the gusts as Razora took off.\n\nFive years since that day I worked quietly in the cellars of the pub carrying barrels and tending to the ales and wines until Razora’s return. \n\nA commotion draws me outside. Skyward fingers and muffled profanities. A dragon lands just outside our small village with a pack of whelps that follow. I raise my fingers and ran them along her toughed hide. When I bent my knuckles, they hurt from age and work. She has aged far more gracefully than I.\n\nShe twists her neck twice and a whelp flops off into my open arms. Razora had carried it from far, I could tell, as the twigs that clung between its claws held the smell of pine.\n\nDragons cannot speak, but the way they stare at you, you get the feeling of what they say. “Raise her,” she asks of me, before taking flight back to the northern skies. \n\nI take the whelp into my arms and return to the needle-rocked mountains. But this whelp is far sicklier. When she sneezes, no fire comes from her throat. When she flaps her wings, they are weak. Her cries are needy. I feed her trapped rabbits and the brown toads with unlively hops. I’m far too old now to catch snatch anything else before it notices my intent.\n\nOn the first day the whelp tries to fly I name her Plod. She hovers weakly in the air, jowls sucking in for air as she wheezes out gusts of ashen smoke before tumbling to the dirt. I pick away the blades of grass from her hide and rub her along the head. \n\nThe next weeks are the same. She throws her wings into abrupt patterns and struggles to stay higher than my shoulders before terrible tumbles. She twists her foot at the end of the week and can’t even bother to make an effort, she merely sulks in a small little space where the rocks are tight around her body. She sticks her nose in the earth and looks at me with envy.\n\nWhen I run my fingers along her foot one cold, dewy morning, Plod doesn’t snap at me. I suspect her ankle is healed and I take her to the high rocks. She looks at me with terrified eyes as I ease her towards the edge. She stands there with wide wings and inhales deeply before throwing herself off.\n\nThe air carries her many yards before she flaps her wings once and spins with chaotic weight. Her shoulder slams into a rock, and then she falls further and further.\n\nBy the time I have hopped down the rocks and towards her, she has run towards the ocean. She sits there staring seaward before she presses her nose to me. I understand her clearly. \"Go away,\"Plod says with her eyes. \n\nBut I do not leave her, I hold her neck in my arms with what little strength I still have these days. She leans into me and we curl together and stay there for hours listening to each other breathe.\n\nSeveral months pass where Plod refuses to fly. She’s the size of a barn now and terrifies the children whenever they come out to see the old lady and her pet dragon. If anything, Plod is very good at making sure I’m mostly left alone. \n\nAnd those months turn to years. It’s hard for me to find my own food. The village refuses to help me. Sulking and hungry, Plod finds me a deer. I start a fire and eat well for a few weeks, at least. But she brings me food less and less. There’s days where I cannot leave the little mountain enclosure due to my old bones and Plod is nowhere to be heard. The hunger leaves me pondering of who will find me when I’m dead first: the children, a trader, or Plod?\n\nA shadow sweeps over me on a day where the flowers bloom under the cheery sun. I feel something take me by the shoulders. Tight claws dig into my skin. The air is fresh and the wind is powerful. I’m flying.\n\nPlod carries me over the village and the pink-bloomed trees turn to a mere spattering between the northern pines. As the chilled air starts to lock my joints hear the cries of dragons, many of them.\n\nRazora, feeble as I, is curled around a fire she lit with her own breath. Plod lets me down in front of it and curls in front of me. The rest of the dragons, nameless ones, come closer and accept me into their pack.\n\nPlod holds me tight and I hold her wing with a smile. It’s warm here, I like it. It’s a quiet little spot to retire.\n\nAnd Razora comes closer and closer, the last of the dragons to curl up and keep me cozy. Her scales are calloused and crumbling near the edges. Her age shows as mine. I look into her eyes and she knows what I’m asking. Her answer is clear. “It’s because you are a good mother. And from what I can tell, an even better grandmother,” Razora tells me.\n\nAt least an old woman like me doesn’t always have to be lonely. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You obtain a device that tells you exactly what choices to make in order to lead the \"happiest\"life possible. Some of these choices get hard to make." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "> Now say that you won't just kill **them**. You'll also kill **their families**.\n\nI stared at the words on the terminal in disbelief. My hands hovered over the keyboard. I wanted to reply, but... holy shit. How do you respond to an order like that??\n\n\"I can't do that!\"I typed back. The keys clacked as I wrote it; the keyboard was very old. The computer and all the hardware was an old Tandy Color Computer back from 1981. You'd think I would have upgraded by now, but my Oracle preferred to stay in here. And who am I to question its orders? In nearly forty years, it really hadn't ever steered me wrong. So we stayed with this one. Everyone thought I was weird for keeping it in my office, but I just explained it away as nostalgia.\n\n> You won't **actually** have to kill their families. You just have to threaten them.\n\n*Oh, well that's so much better*, I thought. *Just threaten to murder innocent women and children. No big deal*.\n\n\"You know what,\"I wrote back, practically pounding on the ancient beige keyboard, \"That's it. That's it, Oracle. I'm done with this whole thing. I quit.\"My hands shook as I wrote it, and my heart was hammering against my ribs. I'd wanted to do it for so long, but I just never could work up the courage to let go. \n\nOracle had guided me through life since I first got the computer in the 80s. Some kid at Radio Shack told me it would give me good life advice and sold it to me on a floppy disk for two dollars, and I've never been one to pass up a good deal. I figured that at worst, it was just some piece of junk that wouldn't really do anything. This was before viruses and malware were really a thing. So I popped in the disk, and it told me that I should start brushing my teeth twice a day instead of just once. \n\nEvery day, it was a new piece of advice. Just little things to begin with, like changing up my hairstyle or whatever, but it eventually gained my trust and started meddling more and more with my life. It gave me business advice, stock tips, real estate intelligence, and relationship advice that was always sound. Years later, I've got more money than I ever thought I could make, and I've got a beautiful family. A gorgeous wife, five wonderful children, a great job that I really enjoy... I've got everything. Fame and fortune, with none of the drug problems and mental breakdowns that usually seem to go along with those two. And yet the Oracle kept pushing. It told me that my life could always get better. That it knew exactly what to do. And so I listened. I followed along blindly, and it's led down a dark path to this. \n\nOracle has made me do terrible things. I've destroyed people's careers, I've humiliated people, said horrible, nasty things that I really didn't mean... but this? Threatening to *kill* someone's family? \n\n> If you leave now, it will all be wasted.\n\nThe words flashed on Oracle's screen in dull green. There should be a name for that greenish color from before computer monitors could actually display real colors. I'd call it \"80's green.\"\n\n> Everything that you've built will crumble. You know that I am right. And you can make the **world** a better place if you just follow my orders. I've never let you down before. \n\nI should have just left right then and there. I could have stood up from the chair and walked out of the room and never looked at Oracle again. Just spent the rest of my life lounging on a sunny beach in Florida or something. But I didn't. I hesitated.\n\nThat night, I got up on stage and took the mic in front of thousands of cheering fans. \"And we're not just going to hunt down those terrorist bastards in ISIS,\"I shouted. \"We're gonna go after their families, too!\"My stomach churned just uttering the words: I was suggesting a *war crime* like it was a good thing! But of course, the crowds ate it up. Hell, they'd applaud for anything I did nowadays. I could probably shoot someone on 5th avenue and they'd cheer. Once the thunderous wave of clapping died down, I spoke into the mic again. \"Thank you, Iowa! Let's make America great again!\"\n\n----\n\nI hope you enjoyed it! If so, subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell for tons more!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a forgotten god just days from fading into the void, when all of a sudden you hear a whisper the first prayer you’ve had in years. With this in mind you stumble out of your death bed and investigate this." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "How does a god die? The answer is that all gods die the same way. Alone. Cold. Forgotten. Does not matter how high they raised the temples to you, does not matter how many years they sang your praises. When you are cast down, it is only a matter of time before the people cease to pray. Then they cease to curse you. Then they cease to remember you entirely. Doesn't matter if you were the wispy god of a single tribe, or the god who stood at the head of a mighty pantheon spanning countless kingdoms and aeons.\n\nSome hold on for long enough to be rediscovered. They keep the stories alive somehow, and sleep until they can be remembered in a better age, and worshipped once more. It is dangerous to attempt, only rarely do you return the same as when you were being forgotten. I know that wise Odin did this, but much has been forgotten, and the ways may never truly be recovered, but genuine yet warped worship is still better than none at all.\n\nI have left behind nothing. There is no stories about me. No mortal descendants carrying my blood any longer. Even my name has passed out of memory, and that is the last thing that can keep a god alive. A name. As long as you have a name, you can return. You can influence mortals, you can attempt a second coming, reorigination, a new theology, a new identity, but still better than dissolving into raw firmament. But without a name, you are dust.\n\nAnd I am fading. Once I was a great god. The greatest. My name was praised in thousands of cities. It was on the tongue of millions of faithful worshippers. Temples, monuments, and statues were raised to my glory, to my truth. Armies shouted my name and my blessings as they crushed the heretic and the pagan. People would sacrifice their most beloved objects to me, in hope of living forever in my Eternal Heavenly Estates, forever enjoying the Gardens of Harmony, forever remaining young, happy, and free. But there was a catastrophe. A great volcano erupted, causing a year with no summer. The nomadic tribes, hard-pressed by this, invaded the realms of my faithful, and though my worshippers were brave and true, they were not warriors, and they weren't as desperate as the nomads invading them were.\n\nMy temples were burned. My cities were razed. My people were scattered to the four winds. Nothing remained. Soon my teachings and laws were forgotten. Then the legends. Until I was nothing but a name. And even that was forgotten. When a god dies, their followers, the worshippers who come to their afterlives die as well. A final death. It is the deal, between men and god. We maintain the everafter, allowing reincarnations or eternal bliss. They worship us and keep us alive.\n\nNow the grand palaces are ruined. The gardens are desolate and barren. The light has gone out of every room. Nothing remains. All is ended, and the once bright souls of my worshippers have flickered out of existence. I cared for them, loved them, and kept them from dissolving into the abyssal void. Had I the strength, I would have wept. But even that is beyond me.\n\nYet something is keeping me here. Days away from fading into the eternal void, I linger still. As I prepare to cease, to my surprise I hear something. It is faint. So very faint. A mere whisper. But after centuries of silent decay, it is like shouting to me. My eyes, closed and empty for decades, open again. It is not my imagination. It is a prayer. Repeated over and over again. A genuine prayer by someone who needs their god. Last time I heard this, Zeus still stood astride the position as the head-god of the Roman Empire. It has been ages. The faith of the carpenter, and the followers of the holy word have swept over the world since then. I need to do this. If nothing else, in this age where the gods do nothing for their worshippers, I can do some good before passing. Perhaps, if I, a bringer of light and hope, can save this last person, it will not have been entirely a waste, these past centuries of decay. I could willingly have let the void claim me years ago. But I held on. For my old worshippers. For the hope of a new beginning.\n\nI follow the voice, tired and broken as I am, to its source. A single scared woman. A girl, barely more than a child, caged in the dark by some malefactor. A single woman praying for hope, light, and a future. She doesn't know it, but she has repeated the traditional prayer to me, the prayer they once prayed every day in my temples. How she did it, I do not know. It is a million to one chance, but she has prayed with the exact words. ''*Hopebringer. Keep me in the light, keep me safe. Take me away from the darkness and the evil that dwells within. You are the light that shines in the darkness, and the light cannot be defeated.*'' The ages where men could with ease hear the gods is long past, the age of oracles and prophets is gone. But what is gone, can return.\n\nAnd if the time of miracles of mighty gods has come once more. Then her prayer will be answered. As her tormentor enters, he is not alone with her. I am there. His pig-like eyes widen as he beholds me. He squeals like a pig when he sees my blade drawn from its scabbard. And as the girl sees me, her faith soars. With such true faith, I begin to light, and as I stab my blade into the monstrously rotund man wearing the gross hat, my blade, which once was the protection of the world, shines like the sun. He falls to the floor, his mind filled with fear and hatred, as his ideas of races and murder dies.\n\nTurning to the girl, I speak to her, god to prophet. ''**You have prayed and I have answered. Sight is knowledge. Understanding. Within you my name burns.**'' Around her, the cage that has kept her contained lights up and turns to cold ash. ''**Speak my name prophet. Speak my name, Zara Lesedi Smith. And let an age of justice, hope, and light begin.**'' She looks at me like a girl, but stands up a woman. Her dark eyes is filled with my light. Under her dark skin, the fire of faith makes her veins light up. Her mouth parts, ''*I called upon you, hopebringer, and now I name you: Once you were R'linystqil, and your people are long dead. I name you again, and call you Rylin of Justice, God of Light, Hope, and True Justice!*'' The new identity, similar to the old, but filled with her ideas, surge into me. Revitalising me. Revitalising what I stand for. In the hereafter, the palaces once more shine with light. It is still faint. But it is a beginning. Prophets make gods. Prophets remake gods. And I am reborn in an age of injustice and fear.\n\nI smile, as my old dying body falls apart, revealing my new shape. Resplendent, shining not with the light of the sun, but with the warm glow of fire. My eyes which were once like the sun, are now like the flames of cities. I smile at my prophet, as we walk out of the filthy house that had once belonged to a foul monster. She entered it scared and alone. I entered it weak and dying. We walk out strong and fearless.\n\n''*So, how do you want to do this?*'' I smile at her. ''**Why, prophet. Let's smite some evil.**'' She nods as officers of the corrupt law comes to us in the howling chariots. ''*Well, these fuckers kept that gross piece of shit back in that shithouse from getting caught, because he was the brother-in-law of the sheriff. They didn't care about what he did. Bastard killed my friend Joan. I say that's a good place to start.*'' I haven't felt this alive since the bronze age collapse, as I unsheathe my burning blade. True justice has long been absent. But now, we're here.\n\n[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered \"follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots\". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The last few months have been agonizing, and I know that I don’t have much time left. About four years ago, I developed a cough that wouldn’t go away. I ignored it as men do, but finally, Nelly, my grandaughter, convinced me to go to my doctor. And Dr. Shah was concerned, so the testing started. \n\n\nInitially, the cat scan showed a small nodule that, as it was, turned out to be cancer. Since then, my body has been ravaged first by radiation treatment, then surgery, and finally chemotherapy. The oncologist told me I was not a good candidate for any of these things, and my prognosis was poor. At first, my sweet oncologist told me I had maybe six months to live, then later, a year, and then she finally stopped giving me time frames and only provided gentle encouragement. \n\n\nI’m sure part of my survival is I kept setting goals. See Kyle graduate with his PhD. Give a speech at Deliah’s wedding. Hold my first great-great-grandbaby. I’ve lived a good life, and these last four years of borrowed time has made me a more generous, more determined, and more peaceful in mind and soul. The body, however, has been a nightmare. \n\n\nEvery time I move in this uncomfortable bed, the smell of stale piss whiffs up from under the sheets because I can no longer maneuver the urinal quick enough to catch it all. I’m trying to keep my pride, but it’s getting harder by the day. I’m fading, and my bones now host cancer, that slipped from that one nodule to seed itself all over my body. I’m in so much pain I feel raw like my nerves are scraping against the blankets. And when I’m not shifting trying to escape this sensation, I’m watching the clock for my next dose of pain meds.\n\n\nMy only escape is the family that comes to see me. They all wear their funeral faces and talk of the future with the tears in their eyes. They know I won’t be there, their hope is spread thin by the day. They know what, what I have yet to accept.\n\n\nI am going to die. There is no more home for me. This was the last try, a chemotherapy treatment that was not chemotherapy. I think they called it biotherapy, the details are kind of hard to follow these days. But, I’m willing to try anything. And well, now there is nothing left.\n\n\nThe nurse comes and gives me my pain meds, and I feel warm and dizzy, and the pain fades, and I sleep for a bit. This is my mercy in these dark hours. I fall asleep to little Macy’s voice singing me the songs she’s learning in kindergarten, an alphabet with a few misplaced letters, and a song that is a story about a mouse and a cookie.\n\n\nWhen I wake up again, the blinds are drawn, and it is dark. I look at the clock, and I wonder if the nurse medicated while I was sleeping. I still feel warm, and the pain feels like a distant point. I need to pee, and my urinal is on the bedside table. I don’t smell like piss, and I don’t want to incase Robert comes to visit after work like he has the last two nights, and I decided to try and reach it, and I was able to with ease - thinking that they must have switched my medication, and I could cry with relief. The absence of misery is a beautiful thing. I forget about my business, looking out the door to the bright light of the hall, then I see her.\n\n\nShe has beautiful dark skin, and natural hair pulled into a braided bun at the base of her neck. Her skin is a dark cocoa color; the harsh fluorescent lights seem to illuminate off of her bare shoulders. She moved with confidence, the pooled skirt on dress seeming to float just above her knees. She wears what I’ve waited for my entire life, a red dress with gold polka dots.\n\n\nI know I shouldn’t have tried to get up, but I did - and it took me a moment to realize for the first time in a week I was standing on both of my feet. “Ma’am,” I say, moving quickly to my doorway and then out into the long white hall closing the space between us. She pauses and holds out her hand for me, her eyes spark like ebony, as I wrap my gnarled, pale hand into her robust and smooth grip. Her skin is warm and soft, it reminded me of the quilt my grandmother made me, she smelled like my son the first time I held him, and her grip was the hard lessons my first boss taught me when I was in the folly of my youth. \n\n\nI am absolutely enchanted, all the pain gone. \n\n\nI’ve never met her, but I’ve never forgotten her. I’ve always remembered the voice that whispered to me when, after my family pulled me out of the lake, half-dead at the age of four. As I coughed up lungs full of water, over my mother’s sobbing, the sound of fear in my older brother’s voice, and the brisk slaps on my back from my father, I remember the clam of her dark lips pressed to into my ear. I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, “It’s not time, I wear the sky today. Follow me with a red dress with the gold polka dots.” \n\n\nI squeeze her hand, and she squeezes mine back, with her long fingers graceful, nails crescent moons, and we start to walk together down the long hall. As we move, she seems to get taller, but no less beautiful. No less pleasant, never once losing her smile, as we go further, my legs are toddling to keep up with her until finally, I feel myself land on my bottom unable to keep the wobble out of my gait. \n\n\nI feel a moment of fear. A moment of emotional pain that she would leave me. I extend my pale arms to her, the skin smooth, and my hands pudgy. She stops and picks me up, and I wrap my arms around her neck and breath her in. She smells like my childhood home on cold winter mornings, like the locker room after my high school won the football championship, and like my wife, before I was widowed. \n\n\nI’m aware that I am naked, but now, there is no shame. We move down a set of stairs, and I’m warm and comfortable, but I feel even smaller in her grasp, as she moves to coddle me in her arms, and all I can make out is her face and her lips and that smile. I reach for her, and my hands are so tiny, and her face is so blurry and perfect, and I try to tell her to thank you, but all that comes out is a coo.\n\n\nTime means nothing. \n\n\nWe stop moving, and she is rocking me before she presses a kiss to my forehead and lifts me to the light.\n\n\nThere is a moment of pain, and I’m screaming at the shock of cold air into my lungs as I take the first breath and then I’m laid on my mother’s chest. I forget everything, except for the smell of mommy’s skin.\n\n[edit: Fixed typos, and posted correctly.]" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Hello, this is Lockpicking Lawyer. I was put into a high security prison for nuking multiple major cities across the world. However, this high security prison cell door has an INEXCUSABLE design flaw. Here’s how I’m going to open it with the zipper I broke off of my jumpsuit." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ok, so this is the ADEMCO model 9500 lock, a super high security lock that is equally impressive in person as it is on paper however as I said at the beginning of this video, there is a dead simple vulnerability that makes it incredibly trivial to bypass. This lock features a titanium block and core with depleted uranium pins in the cylinder which means it's incredibly resilient to drilling and physical security attacks. This lock has a total of sixteen pins, features security pins like bobbins and serated pins for anti-picking and even features a new countermeasure I've not seen in ages on high security locks. In the core of this lock is a magnetic lever that has to be repelled by magnets embedded in the original key to prevent impression attacks. Even with a correctly cut key, with no magnets to push the lever out, the core will not turn. Make no mistake, this is a very high security lock but for all its security features and impressive engineering, it is all for nought due to being susceptible to the most basic attack known to pickers, the bump attack. This jumpsuit zipper will work just fine for demonstrating the vulnerability.\"\n\nThe Lockpicking Lawyer takes the zipper pull and jams it into the lock, then thumps it with his thumb.\n\n\"You would think that with as much money as the US Government paid ADEMCO for this titanium encased lock, they would have been able to at least design a lock that couldn't have been bumped open. Another bump... and there we go.\"\n\nThe Lockpicking Lawyer hits the zipper pull again, and a sharp click emanates from the lock.\n\n\"Just a turn to the right, and the bolt retracts harmlessly, allowing me to escape and to set the record straight.\"\n\nJust as described, the lock rotates and the bolt retracts, allowing the door to swing wide open. The Lockpicking Lawyer takes the first steps outside of his prison cell and sprints down the darkened hallway into the night. \n\nThe Lockpicking Lawyer's voice can be heard fading has he runs further down the hall, \"If you like this video, please subscribe, and as always have a nice day. Thank you.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Everyone has the date that they will die writen in their forehead, and everyone but themselves can see it. One day, you notice that people around you can’t help but gawk at your forehead. One of them points and says “Wasn’t that yesterday?”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yesterday had been a bad day, definitely the worst day of his life. But it was nothing he couldn’t handle, just get up and go about your day, one breathe at a time, one step at a time. He could do this, today was a new day. He didn’t feel like that though, everything had changed after yesterday. \n\nHe got up and got dressed. He didn’t have to look too nice. He was just going to the funeral home to pick out a casket. What confused him most was why he was here at all. He, his wife, and kids all had the same date on their heads, they had discussed at length what they would do when that date comes to make the most of their last day together. \n\nOne thing he thought was how was he going to handle insurance now, it had all been based on your date and he was past his now. He let the thought slip, he wasn’t really paying attention, he was just going through the motions to get to the funeral home. \n\nHe noticed people were looking at his date, he didn’t care though. More people stopped to look, like they had seen a ghost or a celebrity. He didn’t bother with any of them. \n\nWhen he got to the funeral home the director looked at him unsurprised, he seemed to have seen this before, or he was doing a very good job of acting normal. \n\nAfter picking out the flowers and coffins and the rest he started back home, an empty home. No wife or children there waiting for him. It was then he realized that the number didn’t pertain to just physical death." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Realizing Shakira's hips are speaking in Morse Code, you begin to pray that they can lie." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sank down with my back against the door. The sound of ripping wallpaper and breaking furniture came from the other side. Blood trickled out of my arm from five distinct scratch marks.\n\n*‘So, be wise and keep on reading the signs of my body.’*\n\nI looked at my scribbles and back at the video, my eyes widening. How come nobody had taken this warning to heart?\n\n“Honey?” I rose slowly, pencils tumbling and papers sailing to the floor. “Diana?”\n\nI found my wife in the living room, cross-legged on the floor with her new headphones clamped over her ears. I touched her shoulder gently, but she still jumped. She smiled and shook her blonde head. \n\n“What’s up?” she said, letting the headphones encircle her neck.\n\nI could hear the music playing faintly in the background. *‘...just killed a man. Put a gun against his head. Pulled my trigger, now he's dead. Mama… life had just begun... but now I've gone and thrown it all away.’*\n\nShe always did like the classics.\n\n“You know that Shakira song…?” I said, hiding my arm behind my back\n\n“Ah that one!” she said sarcastically. “Sure, I do.”\n\n“I’m serious, Dee!”\n\n“Sorry, I didn’t know you like that kind of music. Which song are you talking about?”\n\n“The Hips Don’t Lie one… I decoded it…”\n\n“What you mean 'you decoded it?'”\n\n“I, uhm, measured the movements of her hips in the video…”\n\nA frown appeared, and her eyes narrowed.\n\n“It’s morse code,” I said quickly.\n\nA loud thudding came from above.\n \n“You can watch what you want in your free time, George. You don’t have to come up with excuses for it. Aren’t we above that?”\n\n“Como se llama, Bonita: mi casa, su casa,” I said in broken Spanish.\n\n“And?”\n\n“And, do you know what the code says?”\n\nShe crossed her arms and sighed. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”\n\n“I think I know what the Spanish in that song means…”\n\n“Anyone with a basic understanding of the language knows what it means.”\n\n“Yeah, but I don’t think the word ‘casa’ means ‘home’ in this case… or well it does, but not a home in the traditional sense.”\n\nSomething crashed above us, and we both flinched. \n\n“What’s she doing up there?”\n\n“I… Listen, I think we need to call somebody.”\n\nShe put her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about? Is our daughter all right?”\n\n“I think I may have… I told her what the morse code said… and now… I think I might’ve released something…”\n\n“Released?”\n\n“Yeah… I think she’s too young… something took over her.”\n\n“What are you talking about? What did you tell her?”\n\n“I just repeated what the morse said: ‘Daemones exterioris, intus venite. Hoc corpus domus vester est!’ Which basically means--”\n\nThe eyes of my wife rolled back into her head, and she started convulsing. She frothed at the mouth. The lights in the room exploded. She crab-walked across the floor and scaled the wall. She looked down at me, her eyes glowing red.\n\nI swore and started running. I had thought it just affected our daughter because she was young... I mean, how else would I have been fine? \n\nI slammed the door to the living room shut and barred it with a cabinet. What had I done? Both my wife and daughter, possessed by… I didn’t even want to think about what those things were.\n\nI grabbed a kitchen knife, trying to figure out more of Shakira’s warnings. I went through the song in my head once more. One line, in particular, stood out to me now...\n\nOh, god, she had warned me again, but I hadn’t listened -- I had thought that her hips lied.\n\n*'When you talk like that, you make a woman go mad.'*\n***\nr/Lilwa_Dexel\n\n**Thanks for the gold!**" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Harry Potter, except instead of Dumbledore, the headmaster is Ron Swanson." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hello. My name is Ron Swanson. I am your headmaster, and you are my students. Today, I will be filling in as your Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. \"\n\nHermione butted in \"But where is Professor-\"\n\n\"That is not important. All that is important is you know how to defend yourself.\"\n\nProfessor Swanson pulled out a flashy metal object and put it on the table with a clunk. \n\n\"This is a gold plated Smith & Wesson Model 15 with an ivory grip. It was given to me by the Venezuelan government, which, as I have said before, is stupid. I've set up targets outside and you'll each get to practice shooting.\"\n\n\"But what about spells? Or what if we run into a werewolf?\"Hermione insisted.\n\n\"I'm glad you asked. The bullets are made of silver, so you will be fine. I would award 10 points to Gryffindor, but the house competition means nothing and is also stupid. Meet in the courtyard in 10 minutes.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Murder is rare; killing someone means their remaining years are 'subtracted' from yours. Likewise, saving a life (or lives) adds time to your own. Nobody knows why. Centuries ago you killed a young man by accident (usually resulting in instant death). You haven't aged since." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No one was quite sure how the math worked. People still died on their own, of course. How long would you live if you hadn't have killed? Dying of cancer happened. But if I killed someone who was already dying, how did I or anyone know how long it would have taken?\n\nPeople speculated, of course. I'd read all the papers, seen the occasionally quite disturbing studies. You live as long as I have and there are some real dark periods in history. Most everyone agreed that you couldn't GAIN time by killing. After all, if someone is alive their death has to be in the future.\n\nI have my private theory. Had a lot of time to think on it, obviously. No real reason to share it with the public, it wasn't exactly reproducible. And what a mess if it were. Fools trying to live forever, that never works out.\n\nYou see, when I was much, much younger I'd killed a man. I remember him being so young, though these days everyone looks young to me. The details of the murder hardly matter, it was the outcome that was so unexpected. I'd been nearly his age, and me losing his life expectancy should have killed me. Eye for an eye, karma, the system balancing the scales and all that. But all these years later and I haven't aged a day.\n\nThe man was a chemical engineer. Not a bad guy, really. Though he must have known on some level how dangerous it was. Thomas Midgley Jr. He'd worked for General Motors back in the 20s. The 1920s, that is. I used to have the worst time with remembering decades. Then centuries.\n\nAnyway, turns out he'd figured out something. Something that didn't seem so bad at the time. Just a little thing. He'd figured out how to prevent engine knock. Big problem back then. Back when engines ran on gasoline. Back when engines were a thing. How to explain. They're like a micro-fusion plant but... nevermind, not important.\n\nBack to Thomas. He figured out that adding a form of lead to gas solved this problem. What he probably didn't realize was that his little invention was going to give the whole world lead poisoning. Millions of cars just belching out lead all over. Every man, woman and child breathing it in. Just think of all those years of lost life. Centuries worth? Millenia? Eons?\n\nBut you see, he hadn't killed those people YET. And there's the rub. He had his life, with all those people he was going to kill... but they weren't dead yet. So all those years were just sort of hanging around him to come. His life expectancy was negative, but he was still walking around. Just a matter of time. He'd already killed those people, but they weren't dead yet. So neither was he.\n\nThe system, though. It keeps track somehow. Some sort of karmic ledger that stays in balance. When I killed him, the equation had to even out. So I got all those negative years added to mine.\n\nSo here I sit, the world's oldest murderer. This life sentence really is a bitch." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are the super villain that defeated the super hero and conquered the earth. You walk out onto your balcony to law down the law for your new subjects. You are greeted by a massive crowd and genuine cheers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With a final explosion, Righteous Man fell from the sky, plunging two stories into the cement sidewalk. Jack Ringall stared, panting for breath. He had finally done it. He had killed Elantra’s guardian hero. Now, nobody would protect Elantra’s goody two-shoes, with their permanent smiles, their unending charity and irreprehensible lifestyle choices.\n\nA city without crime? Without drugs? With only generosity and kindness? Jack gagged at the thought.\n\nA crowd already gathered around the superhero’s corpse. While Righteous Man had been given powers at birth, Jack had only what he could create. Which ended up being a military exoskeleton propelled by rocket fuel and housing the latest in modern-day weaponry.\n\nJack grinned. One point to man. Zero points to God. He stepped off the skyscraper, fell hundreds of feet, and slammed onto the ground by Righteous Man’s dead body. “Your hero is dead!” he screamed at the startled pale faces around him. “Feast your eyes on your new God!”\n\nAnd they did. They stared with such intensity that it sent chills down Jack’s spine.\n\n“Can we smoke cigarettes now?” a voice came from the crowd.\n\nJack sifted through the men and women, looking for the voice, but he found none. “Uh… sure. I don’t give a shit.”\n\nThe crowd erupted in cheer and applause. Jack’s jaw fell open. He scanned every face he could find, but all were filled with jubilation, some even crying with happiness.\n\n“Hey!” he snapped, shutting them up. “You’ll have to worship me! I demand money and precious stones… and women too!”\n\n“So you don’t care about pre-marital intercourse?” another voice came.\n\n“What? Why would I care about—”\n\nJack couldn’t even finish his sentence. He was drowned by cheer. A couple in front of him immediately locked faces. He could see their tongues dancing in each other’s mouths. He cringed and looked away.\n\n“Stop!” he fired his cannon into the air, its boom like the crack of a whip. The crowd silenced. The disgusting couple stopped sucking each other's faces.\n\n“You will serve my every will!\"Jack roared. \"You will be my slaves until you die. I will let crime rampage. The fire of my evil will spread to every home within the city.”\n\n“But what are your thoughts on pornography?”\n\nJack’s breath caught. “What the hell is wrong with you people?”\n\nA stillness settled between them. Even the birds had the decency to shut up.\n\nThen, the same voice called out, “Guys, I think he’s good with it.\"\n\nAnd once again, the crowd erupted in cheers.\n\n---\n\n---\n\n/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A few selected minds are gifted with a dream about the \"Library of all Books\". In only one night, they experience a full year of reading and learning. You are one of them, but instead of once in a lifetime, you wake up in this f*cking library every single night. Today is your 9th birthday." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tomorrow is the day.\n\nThe anticipation, the raw excitement, is beginning to get to me again, like it does every year. At first, this world was filled with wonder. Racks of books and knowledge, rising high above me. As far back as I can remember, this has been my life. Day in, day out. Another book. Another lesson.\n\nBut after a while, that wonder began to pale. There are so many books in the world to read, so much knowledge to be had. Every time I think I've reached mastery, another door opens in front of me. Another rack appears. More knowlege to gain. And the library is quiet. I'm not certain that I could speak anymore, even if I had someone here to speak with. Which I don't.\n\nBut rarely - so rarely - I get to go into the other world. At first I thought it was a dream, but without fail this dream keeps coming back. A world filled with color, and experiences, and faces, and voices, and noise.\n\nOnce a year, I become someone else. I passed my three thousandth year some time ago. And after all these years, my calculations are *perfect*. Tomorrow *is* the day, that I will cross over into the *other* world for a day. My calendar is without flaw.\n\nTomorrow, I turn nine, by theirs.\n\nThey haven't realized, of course. Every night I go into this dream world, they don't recognize that within that tiny body is a mind *thousands* of years older than them. They merely coo nonsensically about how precocious I am, and toss around words like 'gifted'. 'Talented'. 'Blessed'.\n\nBut I hear them. And I *understand*. This world, this dream that I have been given, is a challenge. In another three thousand years, I'll be an 'adult' by their standards. Capable. Respected. And they'll have no idea how outmatched they are.\n\nSo I bide my time, and read my books, and wait.\n\nThis world is a game. And it's one I intend on winning. \n\n\n---\n\n(/r/inorai) \n\nEdit - All right, I'm going to start working on future chapters of this. Going to have to restructure a little too make it functional long term so expect to see some *very minor* tweaks to what I've written here (stuff like ages). Future chapters will be on the aforementioned vanity sub! Thanks for all your nice comments! " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When first we set foot on that tarnished land, a scorched sliver of utopia, there was a single word that came to mind:\n\nTragedy.\n\nThe initial scouts were shocked to find remnants of a magical, adolescent species on a planet with no apparent atmosphere--and, upon closer inspection, we discovered that there are traces of an oxegynated layer, churning and sparse, like silent static. A hidden remnant cursed to dance over the remains of what it once shielded from harm. Such is the cruelty of nature.\n\nWe do not know what they would have looked like--our excavation efforts are still underway, but the baked soil is laden with mineral and rock, far too noisy to scan beyond. What we do know is that they died long ago, perhaps before any known species ever lived, before the formation of intergalactic searches and the pursuit of new life. Before our coalitions and technological integrations.\n\nBefore any of us.\n\nThey were alone on a budding planet, clawing their way towards greatness. Ruins of what must have once been structures that reached for the stars, monuments to their own feats--we even found traces of their efforts on an orbiting moon, and have hung the unique tapestries in the Iotian Gallery for all to see. Other debris and strange crafts were found drifting through the system, the scattered hopes and dreams of lonely beings desperate for an answer of any kind.\n\nI like to think they would've been our friends. A guiding hand that knows through toiling experience what it means to fight from the soil to the sky, to deliver themselves into the ceaseless stream of fate and scream, \"*We will be heard!*\"\n\nFor this, we remember them. Not as mysteries, but as mentors. Not for their demise, but for their struggle in an impossibly large and unforgiving void without meaning or sense. To think that they perished unsure of their place in this puzzle is wounding.\n\nAnd yet, even in the still-warm corpse of that tragic planet, not all was lost. Hidden among history, there were microbes, and small, arid flora tucked away in the shadows of whatever came before them. A final testament that, against any odds, not even catastrophe can end the virulent cycle of evolution. A rejection of the end in what little way was possible.\n\nThe dying breath of premature gods.\n\n---\n\n*/r/resonatingfury*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Aliens have realized humans advance more quickly during times of conflict, and have tried to push humanity into wars to see what happens. However, that changes when they start WW2 and humans harness the power of the atom." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Incoming report from the *Operation: Forge* operatives on C-521.4. I am processing it now. So far, it seems very positive, and so...\"\n\nThere is a pause. Poelhi is not prone to dramatics, and it is not like him to allow his attention to wander. Without shifting my gaze from the nav-chart before me, I prod him: \"Go ahead, Communicator.\"\n\nThe pause expands into a full-blown silence, and I look up to see whether Communicator Poelhi is well. \n\nHe is not. \n\nThe dark, mottled features of his face glow oddly in the bluish-white illumination of the vid-screen he is staring at. All of his ocular spheres are protruding slightly, and his mouth is a flat line, like the op-display for a device that has been disconnected.\n\nI cannot fathom what is causing this reaction, and grow even more confused when he finally speaks again: \"Ah.\"\n\nOne set of ocular orbs dart over to me, then back to the vid-screen. \n\n\"Communicator?\"\n\nHe does not stir. \n\n\"Subordinate, *report*.\"\n\n\"We have a...non-survival status.\"\n\n\"For which operative?\"\n\nPoelhi undulates from side to side before responding. \"...all of them.\"\n\nI move to his side of the room and input the command to replay the report. The operatives are there, smiling into the auto-cam. The sub-lead of the team gestures around him. *We are here to bear witness the next stage of Operation: Forge. Intercepts have just recently been decoded indicating some of the humans are quite pleased with themselves for their new weapons technology. The intercepts alluded to tests which we were unable to witness but there is confirmation that they are going to use it on the field of battle today. As you know, the human weaponry is primarily based on metal projectiles and conventional explosive devices, with military vehicles designed for land-, sea-, and air-based combat.*\n\n*Aircraft is inbound, sub-lead.*\n\n*Good. Begin initial analysis of the weapon. As I was saying, despite the relative crudeness of the humans' weaponry, we have taken up position a healthy distance from the target area to see the 'battle' while remaining completely safe. Analyst, if you would be so kind as to give us the official name of this fearsome weapon?*\n\nThe sub-lead's expression does not change, but he might as well be smirking based on the tone of his voice. It jars me to think this is one of the last things he did. I am not exceptional in my position but it is easy to imagine that his contempt is directed towards the thing that is about to kill him. I wonder if there's a term for this on C-521.4 - it seems a very human thing to do. \n\nOne operative is holding a data pad, and all the others have turned to look at him. *Sub-lead, the humans have termed the device 'Little Boy.'*\n\nThere is great mirth from the operatives at this. *Yes. Keeping in mind that humans, unlike every other species on this planet, are born in severe prematurity, surviving the first months of life only through the most primitive form of life-support reflexes...alluding to their young hardly is a truly terrifying. Nonetheless, progress is progress, hopefully this will serve as a stepping stone to a larger --* \n\n*Forgiveness, sub-lead, but the aircraft has just gone overhead, allowing the sensory array to complete the analysis.*\n\n*Very good. And?*\n\nThe aura of amusement from the sub-lead fades as he looks over at the analyst. *The device is using radioactive isotopes, with the computers suggesting a...*\n\n*Analyst?*\n\n*We should move.* \n\n*Why?*\n\n*The device contains a fission-based detonation system relying on nucleonic chain reactions.*\n\nThere is a significant shift in the amount of ambient light present on the video, and a moment later, an alert appears as part of the graphical overlay on the display. The operatives begin speaking over another.\n\n*Did you say* fission, *analyst?*\n\n*Sub-lead, you must order all operatives back to the --*\n\n*That's not something that --*\n\nThe picture becomes grainier and more pixelated. Six more alerts stack on top of the first one in quick succession, including a message indicating that signal degradation has caused interpolation to be used to complete the video. \n\n*Look!* One of the other operatives points off screen, his voice distorted by the algorithms used to restore the video. \n\nThe data corruption causes the last moments to unfold in a perverse kind of slow motion. There is a frame as the operatives turn, which remains on-screen for a few seconds. Then, another tableau of the operatives being knocked airborne by a blast wave, accompanied by distorted screams. The final frame is pure white light, and then the screen goes completely dark.\n\nPoelhi's mentions something about a delay in the transmission of the message due to equipment failure, but it barely registers with me. I am trying to wrap my head around how the humans made this jump, what the cryptic allusion to a \"fission detonation system\"could possibly mean. I hardly process the report that of the 90,000 structures in the city where the bomb was dropped, approximately 60,000 were razed.\n\n\"Whatever that was, Poelhi, let's just hope that once they realize how destructive it was, they never use it again.\"\n\nSomething about the silence that follows makes me uneasy. \"Communicator?\"\n\n\"Sir.\"\n\nI look at my subordinate and wait. Finally, he continues. \"A second device was dropped three days later.\"Another pause. \"According to our orbital sensor array, the detonation was approximately ten times more powerful than that of the first one.\"\n\n***\n\n*Edit to polish a bit and for technical corrections - thanks for the feedback!*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The more evil you were on Earth the higher your rank in Hell. When you get to Hell Satan himself resigns his position to you, but you don't know what you did." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the elevator opened, the little imp beside me let out a wailing screech. \"Bottom floor, VIP access and throne room.\"\n\nI proceeded through the doors to look around. Hordes of demons and people swimming in the lake of fire began to look in my direction and started clapping and cheering. \"Long live the king!\"\n\nI took in the sights before me. Flames and brimstone were going up the walls, and pillars of lava were flowing down from the ceiling. People in cages would be plunged into magma to have their flesh burn off. The flesh would then regenerate so they could be lit ablaze again. \"What the Hell...\"\n\nAnother imp came up to my side, \"That's correct sir, welcome to your domain, the lowest level of Hell. I am your personal secretary, Melchom. I have your agenda right here for the day sir.\"\n\n\"My agenda, I don't even know what I'm doing here! Did I die?\"\n\nMelchom looked at me with a smirk. \"That right there shows why you are the best sir. Didn't even know you were transported here. Truely number one sir, truly. Anyways, for today, I have you-\"\n\nI cut him off. \"No! Really, What the Hell am I doing in... well, Hell?\"\n\nMelchom was beginning to get impatient. \"If you would just let me finish, the only thing you have to do today is the 'passing of the unholy flame' ceremony. You can meet the previous head honcho, and get all your answers from him... probably. After that, you have free reign to do whatever you want. Well, until I get tomorrow's agenda all set for you. Capisce?\"\n\nI nodded, not really understanding the situation I was really in. Melchom led me to the stone throne. A figure was sitting on it, smirking. He was strangely radiant for such a place as Hell. He resembled an angel, however, one of his wings was singed black, and a single horn was growing out of the left side of his forehead. \"You have arrived. I've been waiting for this day, but I bet it felt like an eternity for you, with your 'busy' lifestyle up above.\"He kind of giggled at this statement. It was strange to see Satan giggling.\n\n\"Umm, how should I address you? Sir?\"\n\nSatan laughed. \"No, no. If anything, I should be calling you master, and you may call me the servant. Haven't you heard? We will be performing the ceremony of the unholy flame. You will be the new leader of Hell soon.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"I don't understand. Why? I didn't even know I died, and I didn't do anything to my knowledge to consider me 'evil'.\"\n\nSatan's laughter was now getting out of control. The magma around him was beginning to pulsate and shift in sync to his laughs. \"You slay me! This is a prime reason why you have been selected. You don't even know what you did!\"\n\nHe slowly regained his composure, and the flames began to die down again. \"Listen... Sometimes it is what you *didn't* do that earns you a ticket to Hell. And let's just say, you are a master of being slothful. Do you know what you were *supposed* to accomplish in your life?\"\n\nI shook my head but didn't like where this was going.\n\n\"It was supposed to start with you feeding a homeless man, and inviting him to lunch. He would tell you of troubles on the streets, which would inspire you to start a homeless shelter. From there, you would start an organization that focused on raising money and distributing food to the poor. It would also teach others how to grow and prepare food for themselves. Eventually, this organization would go on to end world hunger, you would win a Nobel Peace Prize, and be regarded as a world hero. It gets better, though... You would also have a son, who would become a well-renowned doctor and cure many diseases that I have long plagued the world with.\"\n\nI began to bite my lower lip... I knew what he was going to say next, and it terrified me.\n\n**\"But you did NOTHING!!\"** The demons around us plunged themselves into the lake of fire out of fear. \"You never left your house, you never met the homeless man. Hell, you never even met your future wife so you never had your future son! You were slothful to the very end! All of these lives will be lost, because of you!\"\n\nMy knees gave out below me. I no longer had the strength to stand, let alone look at him.\n\n\"Congratulations... You were so lazy, you didn't even get up off your own butt to feed yourself. You died a lowly death of starvation when you had food in the fridge less than twenty feet away from the spot you died.\"He threw his scepter down, and it clanged against the bedrock in front of me. \"You have gone from absolutely nothing to being the ruler of Hell. Let's watch and see how long it takes you to burn this place to the ground... I give it less than a week.\"\n\nSatan left me there, and he proceeded down the stairs that led to the throne. As he headed down, he muttered, \"I needed a vacation.\"He then waded out into the lake of fire, and sat down, allowing the flames to lap against his body. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Something happy please. Include cats and maybe lizards." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sir Mittens walked, on his back two paws, out of the castle’s gates. A long, red cape flowed past a soft, furry body. A steel helmet sat atop his head. Two soft ears poked out of holes in the helmet. A sword rattled against his hips. A great chorus of cheers and salutations followed Sir Mittens as he walked out of the castle. He strode, proud, into the thick forest which ringed the castle. The King and his court watched from balconies up high. Pride swelled in their chests.\n\nThe forest came up to meet Sir Mittens. The dense overgrowth soon surrounded the noble kitten. The cheers of the castle died down as the thicket grew ever denser around Sir Mittens. The brave kitty was soon surrounded by the peaceful quiet of the forest. Birds chirped, leaves rustled, insects cricked and frogs croaked. A soft stream babbled somewhere nearby.\n\nThe ground beneath Sir Mittens soft, pink paws started to slope upwards. With an adorable, and very scratchable chin held high, Sir Mittens walked. The slope broke out of the dense forest, and Sir Mittens ascended the incline.\n\nThe slope left behind the thick green of the forest. Sir Mittens was quickly surrounded by rocky mountains and spires. He climbed, agile and patient, up the mountain. Above him, a great cavern was carved into the mountainside. Sir Mittens saw the mouth of the cave, and narrowed his eyes. His paws moved expertly as he traversed the rocky slope. His goal was in sight.\n\nReaching a pink paw up in the air, Sir Mittens grabbed the lip of the cave. He pulled himself up, and soon stood at the edge of this mountain cavern. The midday sun beat into the cave, illuminating it. Just on the edge of his vision, Sir Mittens could see glittering piles of gold and treasure.\n\nSir Mittens took several careful steps into the cave. His tail swished softly behind him as he stalked forward. From within the cave, Sir Mittens could hear a breathing. A great, hot gust of air blew past Sir Mittens.\n\nSuddenly, the ground started to shake beneath Sir Mittens’ paws. Deep within the cave, there was a tremendous rustling. Sir Mittens spread his hind legs out, and readied himself. He felt the impact of massive, taloned feet approaching him from within the dark.\n\nA great, scaly head appeared before Sir Mittens. A giant bearded dragon, easily towering over Sir Mittens’ feline form, emerged from the depths of the cave. It stood in front of Sir Mittens, and let out a great roar.\n\nSir Mittens stared up at the bearded dragon. The two creatures locked eyes. A smile spread across the bearded dragon’s reptilian face. The great lizard laid on its belly, and extended its head out towards Sir Mittens. Sir Mittens padded towards the lizard, and raised a paw.\n\nWith the softest of pats, Sir Mittens petted the giant bearded dragon. The bearded dragon purred softly.\n\n“King Meow sends me, Sir Mittens, to give you a message, Oh Great One.” Sir Mittens said softly to the lizard.\n\nThe bearded dragon continued to purr contentedly as Sir Mittens’ continued to pet its head. Sir Mittens leaned his head in towards the lizard’s ear. He was so close that some of his whiskers touched the reptile’s scales. He whispered quietly.\n\n“The King says you’re a good boy/“\n\nThe bearded dragon let out a satisfied purr, and Sir Mittens wrapped his soft arms around the dragon’s neck, embracing the great beast in an act of friendship and loving respect.\n\n--------------------------------\n\nHope you enjoyed the story! I've got tons more over at my sub, r/ThadsMind, if you want to subscribe to that.\n\nP.S - This is the cutest and most wholesome prompt I've seen on here in a while. Hope the story helps!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You’re an immortal 30-year-old-looking serial killer who was sentenced to 1,000 years in prison. After 100 years people started asking questions, but now it’s been 400 years and you’re starting to outlast the prison itself." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They told me it would feel like eternity.\n\nThat this punishment, effectively a life-sentence for humankind, would be worse than any demise a mortal government could have awarded me. This, they said, was worse than mercy. Worse because death was a luxury that cannot afford to wait. But I could. I would have 1000 years to do so. And I would do it alone in solitary confinement all the while, until I was raving mad and scratching at the walls. They imagined that I would claw until my fingers bled—as nails tore off into the concrete—begging for death instead. Anything, they assured me, surely anything is better than 1000 years alone. Even death. And at the time, they laughed. When I was first convicted, their humor was a gross over exaggeration of the sentence. After all, they probably assumed that I would be dead within the next 50 years.\n\nBut humans know nothing of their own mortality, and even less of patience.\n\nMankind often makes the mistake of assuming that their permanence will remain long after the individual (or the state) crumbles. They build large and extravagant structures that will surely “last the tests of time”, unaware of how little time cares for such trivial endeavors. Humankind, in its own temporary way, only knows how to make temporary things. And even when those things outlast the individual, they no longer retain meaning once the man has left it behind. Without people, a building is just a building. It means nothing, and corrodes all the same.\n\nThey told me that the sentence fit the crime, that my solitary punishment was just as inhuman as my actions were. That in the dark, by myself, I would be driven mad by my own hubris. And oh, how simple it was...\n\nTo prove them wrong by standing still alone. Folded against the back corner of my cell, eyes glazed over. After the first three weeks, the guards assumed that I had already succumbed to the madness. After a year of rejecting food, water, and all other pleasantries, they wondered if I’d actually turned to stone. After the first 100 years, whispers seeped into the cell, gossiping of my validity, my integrity, my wellbeing. Is he real? How can he still be alive? But none opened the cell. No one was brave enough to dare. Even those who hadn’t yet been born during the era before my capture had heard the rumors. The unspeakable nature of my crimes resonated longer than most of the jury members who convicted me; none of them dared to risk exposing the world to something like me. Not again.\n\nBut after 250 years, those whispers meant nothing. My wing of the prison had been silent for some time by then; I presume that it was decommissioned, but who’s to say? I heard only the echoes of the wind, proof of a world outside. There was little evidence of humanity in my immediate vicinity, and after the voices trailed off and the guards abandoned their posts, there was little effort made to maintain the most human quality of the prison. \n\nMortals are unaware of the mockery in their words when they flaunt the term “eternity”. They seem to think that it’s limited to being “a long period of time” but it never encapsulates the endlessness of it all. It never contextualizes it’s witness, who is testament to the endeavor. They never seemed to grasp that the longer one endures something, the shorter those lapses in time appear to be. How memory stitches those pieces of memory together, turning hours into minutes and centuries into seconds, growing shorter and shorter and short until there is no noticeable difference between the present and anything past. They use the word in hyperbole to express something they can’t fathom, something larger than themselves. It’s appalling, really.\n\nAnd they said it would feel like eternity, this wait in prison.\n\nI scoff, feeling the ache in my joints as I shift forward. My shoes, eaten away by time and weathering, leave prints in the rubble. Parts of them appear almost fossilized in the floor. Or, what used to be the floor. The last of the wall before me topples over, and sunlight peeks through the open cracks. The world beyond is quiet.\n\nEternity. How foolishly they assumed that a prison—one to be revered and resented—was something composed of steel and stone. They assumed that their prison would outlast my eternity, and that such a thing would make them feel safe at last. They assumed that by containing me, death would suddenly appear preferable to their understanding of an endless lapse of time. But their eternity lasted only 400 years before the structural integrity gave away to that ridiculous assumption.\n\nNo, no, no. At first, I chuckle. And then, I buckle over in a mad fit of cackling. The eternity was here already, I think as I crawl through the breaks in the rubble. I’m simply returning to savor it’s most unsavory qualities." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Sick of Batman's shit, Superman goes to the past and does a reverse terminator; he saves Bruce Wayne's parents, preventing Batman from ever becoming." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The first thing I did when I got back was scan the last decade of newspaper headings in all major cities. Actually, the first thing I did was have a cup of chamomile, because time travel always makes me a bit nauseated. But after that, the newspapers were the best way to catch up, and they confirmed my suspicions.\n\nWithout Batman, crime overall had actually decreased in Gotham. No more masked maniacs fighting for the attention of the Dark Knight like horny teenagers at prom. A higher level of petty crime, to be sure. But a few extra muggings to avoid blown up hospitals, existentially-themed hostage crises, and increasingly ridiculously named serial killers? A hard call but acceptable, and being a superhero is about making the hard calls so others don't have to. \n\nBruce Wayne somehow still ended up included in the Justice League as a financier and high-tech armorer, and after a few missteps, I discovered our relationship in this timeline was cordial but distant. A welcome relief.\n\nA welcome relief-- that's how the first few weeks felt. And then I started noticing what was wrong.\n\nGotham was less violent, sure. But more corrupt. The hottest drugs started there. The rich from all over flew in to try the newest, most expensive high. Or to visit the black market auctions where you could buy elections in any state and almost any country in the world. Dictators, it was rumored, took private jets to Gotham for complementary nights out on the town.\n\nThis wasn't the sort of job for Superman. I couldn't fly in with a cape and punch corruption out of the city. So I sent in the subtler superheroes, hoping our tech and intel would get us a lead. Wayne offered us inroads into his city. But we were always a step behind. So I went in as Clark Kent instead, hitting up the fanciest bars and implying criminal interests until I got a picture of Gotham's new glitzy underworld.\n\nI expected Penguin, Ra's a Ghul, or hell even the Joker as the new mastermind behind Gotham's elite, quiet criminality. But the rumors I heard were different. A man of class and stature in all black suits, with a low gravelly voice and a dark, entitled sense of humor. A man who relied on money and strategy before brute force, but was also comfortable enough with violence when it was the best tool for the job.\n\nA man with a mask that curled up into two sharp points over his head.\n\nI went back in time to stop a nuisance. I succeeded by creating a monster." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You have a superpower where the harder a solid is the easier it is for you to break. Diamonds crumble to dust under the slightest touch but mashed potatoes are virtually unbreakable." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Being born with the ability to crumble and pulverise even the hardest of objects in the world, it really came as a surprise when I found out that the most effortless tasks requires the most effort for me to do. Meet my bane: soft objects.\n\n \n\n\"Mom! I'm going over to Emilia's for dinner to meet her parents, so I won't be home till late,\"I said, while scrambling for my car keys and adding the final touchups to my hair. Faded shave with an undercut, coupled with a neat backcomb the likes of David Beckham and Marco Reus would be jealous of, I was sure to charm Emilia's parents off their seats as the suave and handsome boyfriend that was in tandem with their gorgeous and precious daughter.\n\n \n\n\"When is my turn to have her over for dinner? You have been talking about her for ages and yet I can only picture her as a hot lady with an ass to die for and a killer rack. I can't even put a face to her name! Do bring her over soon, gosh, just thinking about having her over for dinner really excites me! I wonder how many children...\"\n\n \n\n\"Mom! Please! As promised, I'll bring her home soon enough, but I gotta go now so see you later!\"\n\n \n\n\"Remember to be EXTRA careful around their expensive China vases and diamond rings when you shake their hands; and most importantly, remember to use... er herm...protection,\"Mom said, giving me a wink.\n\n \n\nI rolled my eyes and gave her a smile. What more can I say to a Mom that witty?\n\n \n\nI was greeted by Emilia, flanked by her parents, at the porch. She gave me a tight hug, and I returned it likewise. Hands shot out simultaneously and I was careful to scrutinise them before wrapping my fingers around the parts that avoided those diamond rings. After the formalities, I was invited inside for dinner and boy must I be lying if I said that the food wasn't good. In fact, it was lovely and different flavours worked in symphony and tantalised my tastebuds after every bite, begging for more. \n\n \n\nOf course, the hardest part of the dinner was trying to cut the soft chicken that was immersed in the heavenly broth, it took a whole lot of teeth baring and muscles straining before I managed to slice off a teeny piece of meat. Did I just say hardest? God almighty, when Emilia came to serve her special mashed potatoes that were soft and creamy, I was left mouth agape.\n\n \n\nI had to feign ignorance and avoid the mashed potatoes or I would be deemed as a failure for not even being able to make an indent in it. So, when Emilia served it, my first reaction was that of question and puzzlement. \"What's that?\"I asked. \n\n \n\n\"Er... mashed potatoes?\"Emilia's dad said.\n\n \n\n\"Oh, never heard of a potato, looks pretty good.\"\n\n \n\nThey shot me an incredulous look and we went back and forth about not hearing and eating a potato before. \n\n \n\n\"Enough is enough. You're fucking with us. Admit it,\"Emilia's dad said.\n\n \n\n\"Sir, before today I never heard of a potato. I still don't know what a potato is, other than some kind of food. I don't know what to tell you.\"\n\n \n\nThat's when her dad started yelling at me, and Emilia started crying and went to another room, while her mom kept saying \"what are you doing?\".\n\n \n\nHer dad asked me to get out of the house and I told him that I didn't deserve to be treated that way as I had not heard of a potato before, and he didn't seem happy to hear that. \n\n \n\nBack home, I'm telling Emilia that I really don't know what a potato is. The only solution to this problem is for them to buy into the fact that I didn't know what a potato is. \n\n \n\nNot that I wanted it, but I really hoped that I wasn't born with the power to break hard objects and cower at soft ones. In the end, the only thing that I managed to break with my power was to break up with Emilia. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Everyone has a superpower based on the topography of where they were born (IE: Mountains, deserts, etc.). You are the first person to be born in space." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was an accident, of course.\n\nMy birth, my being in space, and well, I suppose I was an accident as well. An accident from director of engineering fucking the fat janitor after hours when the rest of the shuttle team had retired, the odds that my mother had been able to hide her baby bump for nine months, the chances that she had been a nurse before being selected from the program and knew how to give birth herself, in a maintenance closet, mere days before the mission was to return to earth. Keeping me hidden was difficult in the small confines of the ship, but the other hundred and fifty crew members had been too busy to pay a maid much attention. After all, many insisted that it had not been worthwhile to bring her along, that a maid had been a waste of tax dollars. I suppose that makes me a waste of tax dollars as well.\n\nBut there were those that spoke to her unique abilities as a maid. For she had been born deep in the snow of the north, during the first blizzard of winter, that like the first snowfall she could smooth over any differences in her environment and make it appear uniform. As a maid, it meant that she had an extraordinary sense of cleanliness. As a mother, it meant she could ensure I was overlooked, that my crying was muffled, and later in life, that I appeared no different than anyone else.\n\nStarchild, she had called me as she smuggled me back into the atmosphere, tucked deep in her suit like a kangaroo would carry her young. Starchild, she whispered to me when the project disbanded, and she took me back to the inner city apartment where I spent my early life. Starchild, she reprimanded, whenever I started pushing and pulling at the equilibrium of our apartment, when she would arrive home from work and all the furniture would be clustered at the center of the room, pulled together by a force point.\n\n\"When will I go to school?\"I asked her when I was eight, watching the uniformed children marching up the street through the wrought iron gates of the academy, one of them flicking flames across his fingers like a coin while another left footprints of frost in the grass.\n\n\"You already go to school, Starchild.\"She said, \"And your teachers say you've been learning your numbers well, and your reading has been progressing.\"\n\n\"Not *that* school,\"I had said, pulling a face, \"I want to go to the academy. The special school, for the others like me!\"I held up a fist, and items on the desk in front of me flew towards it, pens and papers and pencils that stuck out like quivering quills out of my skin.\n\n\"Starchild, listen, and stop that at once\"She had said, her eyes level with mine, \"There *are* no others like you. Those children, they are all classified, they are all known. You are *not* like them, you never will be. And they can't know, do you understand me?\"\n\n\"I guess,\"I said, with a huff, watching as one of the children cracked a joke and the others laughed, \"But I don't like my school. Everyone there knows we can't be like them, we can't be special.\"\n\n\"Starchild, you *are* special. One day, they'll know that too. But not now- if they knew, they wouldn't take you to the academy. They'd take you somewhere else, somewhere terrible.\"\n\nAnd as I grew older, I realized that she was right. That when our neighbor started developing powers, a police squad showed up at her front door, and classified her on the spot. That they left her with a tattoo on her shoulder, a tattoo of a lightning bolt, symbolizing the storm she had been born during. Just like the tattoo of a snowflake on my mother's shoulder, colored dull grey, to indicate a low threat potential.\n\nSo instead of going to the academy, I created an academy of my own, in my room. Mother made me turn the lights out at ten, so during the day I collected light outside, keeping it in one of the dark holes I could create when I closed my fist hard enough, and letting it loose at night to read books I had stolen from the library. From the section for the special children, that I could only access if the librarians were distracted.\n\nBut distractions came easy to me.\n\nAs I grew older, the city streets became more populated with the blue uniforms of police. The academy became increasingly harder to attend, the gifted girl next door disappeared one night without a note. Mother stopped letting me outside after dark, and the lines for the soup kitchens grew longer. The skies grew darker, the voices accustomed to speaking in whispers, and the television news seemingly had less and less to report. It was as if there was a blanket thrown upon us, but no one dared look who had thrown it.\n\nBut I would. And when I did, I realized the earth needed a Starchild.\n\n*** \n\nBy Leo. **[Part 2 Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/leoduhvinci/comments/65hl73/star_child_part_2/)**\n\nPart 3 coming soon. [While you wait, check out my other science fiction story about a starship struck by an asteroid on its way to colonize a distant planet.](https://www.reddit.com/r/leoduhvinci/comments/5ons87/you_can_now_add_the_bridge_to_you_shelf_on/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"This is how it works,\"Death explained. \"You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then, poker?\"he said, hesitantly he let out a sigh, and with a practiced motion he lifted a hand to wipe his brow. \"Not my best,\"he followed. \"But I'd rather have luck than fail at a skill I do not have.\"\n\n\n\"You cannot fool me,\"death replied. A low chuckle escaping the void beneath his hood. \"You're in a Las Vegas hospital, you're in a suit, you've been shot in the throat. You got caught cheating, you're a failed card shark.\"He lifted a bony hand to tap his presumed chin. \"Very well, one round. Texas hold em. We'll forego the raising and calling and each grab our hand. Pure chance. Presuming you cannot cheat of course.\"\n\n\"I find that agreeable,\"he replied and looke down at the table. Had those cards always been there? Well no matter.\n\n\"Please, draw your hand.\"said death as he pulled two cards of his own.\nAnd so he did, seemingly. Hopefully death did not know that he had died with his pockets cards still on him. Granted they were marked with a hole each by now, but a card is a card. \"Ready,\"he said, putting his faith in his two aces. And death started flipping cards.\n\nA two. No matter.\n\nAn ace. Now we're talking he thought to himself as he failed to contain his poker face.\nAnother ace. Alright!\n\nA third ace. And now his world collapsed.\n\nAnd a fourth ace.\n\nDeath hesitated, as if nervous. \"Let us show our hands at the same time.\"he said. Did he sigh? Maybe he already knew? He was death, of course he did. With that in mind he found himself calm. Come what may, he thought to himself as he put down his cards alongside death.\n\nSix aces, versus six aces.\n\n\n\n\n\n\"Well, what now?\"he said after a long pause.\n\n\"I am not entirely sure,\"said death." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was my 18th birthday.\n\nThe beach party my friends were so kind to have organized was dying down. The sun was setting, and the moon was high overhead. Small groups of people splashed about in the water, sat on beach towels talking, creating a warm hubbub around me. A small driftwood fire was being constructed nearby.\n\nI stood at the water's edge, sipping a cola, pondering my life, when a volleyball beaned me in the back of the head, spilling my drink. I stumbled forward, catching myself just before I faceplanted into the drink. Turning around, Jon, my best friend, snorted as he approached.\n\n\"You dickhead,\"I mumbled, as he handed me another drink. He reached his hand out, and the errant volleyball flew back into his hand. Being a few months older than me, he knew where he wanted to be the moment he got his hands on the ball. He was always the better athlete.\n\n\"Tried summoning anything yet?\"He asked, clapping me on the back in apology.\n\n\"Nah. I don't really want to know. I feel like it might limit my options,\"I said, taking a sip.\n\n\"What is this stuff?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Janine made it. She's been trying to make wine ever since she caught that vintner's hydrometer.\"\n\nMy eyebrows raised. \"Anybody who brews anything uses hydrometers.\"\n\nHe laughed. \"She'll find her spot eventually. Maybe after giving several people alcohol poisoning, but she will. People always do.\"\n\nHe gave me a look and put a hand on my shoulder. \"You need to get started. So try to summon something!\"\n\nI looked behind me, at my friends and family, who had finished with their business and had turned to see what Jon was on about. They met my gaze. Mom gave an encouraging gesture.\n\nI shrugged, closed my eyes, put my right arm up, and willed for something to land in it.\n\nFor a moment, nothing happened. There was a pregnant pause, as everybody looked confused, then the ground itself rumbled. The waves, until then gently lapping at my feet, grew restless, more violent, as if the sea itself began to stir. I heard gasps behind me and Jon's grip on my shoulder tightened.\n\n\"Stop stop STOPSTOPSTOP!\"He yelled, panicked. Concerned, I opened my eyes and looked at him, ceasing my will. His eyes were turned upward, alarm, gobsmacked gaze locked on the sky. Had I pulled a plane out of the air or something? \n\nI looked up, expecting to see an airliner or something in a nosedive. My eyes widened. \n\nNope. The Moon was bigger. Noticeably bigger. Oh dear." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Death! Buddy!\"Aleksei threw his arms open and charged across the room toward the looming specter in robes of shadow. \n\nAleksei had been a huge man in his time, but now he was almost comically short compared to the rest of the human race. He made up for it by wearing the most garish of clothing in whatever style was considered 'in' at the time. Today it was a long, sudosilk robe that was programmed to shift between patterns of purple and deep crimson. Underneath he wore an obnoxious yellow shirt and puffy, green pants that looked like they were metal but moved like fabric.\n\nThe charging rainbow that was Aleksei Roda slammed into the bone-thin figure of Death and squeezed the shadows out of him, \"It has been so long, my friend! Come, come, I must show you my new toys!\"\n\n**ARE YOU PREPARED FOR ME?**\n\n\"No worry, my friend!\"Aleksei puttered over to a door on the far side of the living room, pressing a button to reconfigure the room. The walls moved back to show a messy workshop full of hundreds of half-assembled machines. \"I can have CAIN add a guest room onto the house. It will only take an hour or so. You are welcomed to stay as long as-\"\n\n**THAT IS NOT REQUIRED** \n\nDeath flowed over the floor toward Aleksei, \n\n**I HAVE COME FOR YOU ONCE MORE. YOUR TIME HAS LONG SINCE PASSED.**\n\n\"What?\"Aleksei laughed and slapped his hand at death. \"Die now? No way! There's so much I haven't done yet! There's still so much to see! We have a colony on Du-Roga now, did you hear?\"\n\n**I HAVE COLLECTED FROM IT MANY TIMES.**\n\n\"Oh, of course you have. You're always there right behind us, aren't you? Well, how is it? C'mon, tell me about it! I have a transit visa for next year. I can't wait! A new world, new people, a whole new sky to watch at night!\"\n\n**ALEKSEI RODA. YOU HAVE LIVED BEYOND YOUR TIME AND THE TIME OF MANY OTHERS. I ACCEPTED YOUR CHALLENGE BELIEVING YOU TO WASTE AWAY LIKE MANY BEFORE YOU. YOU FAIL MY BELIEF. YOU FAIL EXPECTATION. DO YOU INSIST ON LIVING STILL? DOES TIME NOT BECKON YOU TO ITS END?**\n\n\"Aw, man. Death! Buddy! Come on now, lighten up.\"Aleksei set his hands on his wide and well-padded hips. \"Live a little!\"\n\n[More Death and Aleksei](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7gdja7/wpdeath_has_hourglasses_telling_when_each_person/dqiicfu/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a monster on the front step.\n\nRachel blinked, but it remained, hunched over on the porch, still there in all it’s disturbing glory. It had one eye - no, it had many eyes, all blinking and shifting and looking here and there, but not visible all at the same time. They were laced above a mouth that stretched out in a fierce grin at the same time it drooped in a heavy frown, all perched on a round, clay-like head with cauliflower ears. (Not the ailment, mind, but actual cauliflower, growing from the sides of the skull and flowering quite nicely.) The body below was thin and fat at the same time, undulating between weight like waves licking the shore. Fingers made of bone clicked together anxiously, with far more phalanges than were necessary. From the waist down the body fell into darkness, robed in something that was blacker than black, aside from a pair of human-looking bare feet sticking out. Its toenails were painted bright pink, and seemed to be conversing among themselves.\n\n“It’s not Halloween yet,” she said, gripping the door tightly. \n\nThe creature said nothing, just staring at her.\n\n“That’s a really impressive costume, but you’re...five days early, I think. It’s only Tuesday, so…”\n\n“*You’re not dead*.” The voice that came from the monster was soft and confused. There was no scratch or echo or blood-curdling edge, just a voice that could belong to any adult human, wavering with shock and disbelief.\n\nRachel glanced behind herself, just to make sure. Nope, no dead body on the floor of the kitchen, where she’d been working when the being had knocked. “No,” she agreed, “I think I’m very much alive.” \n\n“*But...but how*…?”\n\nShe turned back to the horror and scratched absently at her cheek, trying to decide which eye to gaze into. They kept appearing and disappearing, so she settled on gazing into the middle of the creature's round head. “I...don’t know? I mean, am I supposed to be?” \n\n*“All who gaze upon my visage fall, as is the way!”* The creature gesticulated wildly, flailing its arms, too-long fingers clicking together. *“Yet you do not shudder, you do not flinch! How can you withstand the horror that is I, Formidulosus, and not melt into a puddle of your own entrails!?”* Flecks of foam gathered along the edge of its dual-mouths, and Rachel took a step back to avoid being spit on. *“By Cthulhu, it’s unheard of!”* \n\n“Oh, you like Lovecraft?” She latched onto the only thing she’d understood in the odd rant. “I find him a bit hard to read sometimes, but I just got the Call of Cthulhu game on my laptop and I’m looking forward to playing it on Saturday…” She trailed off as the creature tilted its head and stared at her in something akin to astonishment.\n\n*“You know of the old ones?”* \n\n“...Yes?” Rachel took a step forward (now that there was no other-worldly face foam flying about) and gave the creature a good look. Its shoulders were trembling, and it had begun clicking its fingers together. The bright-pink toenails had fallen silent. Had the thing been human, she would have said it looked almost...anxious? A bit lost, perhaps? “Would you like a cup of tea?”\n\nThe creature tilted its head, considering, then nodded. Rachel motioned for it to follow her into the kitchen and led the way. She could hear it behind here, each footfall echoed by the soft *schwip-schwip* of the too-black robe dragging across the hardwood. The electric kettle was already full of water, so she plugged it in and turned to watch the oddity as it carefully entered her kitchen and looked about, as though waiting for the china to attack it. \n\n“Please, have a seat, Mr, uh, Formidable,” she motioned to the kitchen table, then flushed as she realized her work was covering nearly every inch. \n\n“*Formidulosus*,” it corrected, watching with curiosity as she stacked papers and shoved them to the side, clearing a space for two to sit. *“What is this parchment about? Are you a scholar?”* \n\n“Oh no,” Rachel turned to the counter as the kettle began to hiss and spit. She pulled down two mugs and, after a moment's deliberation, decided on chamomile for both of them. The creature sat awkwardly in one of the chairs and watched as she bustled about, grabbing a teddy-bear shaped container of honey from the cabinet and juggling it alongside the two mugs over to the table. Its many, many eyes drifted to the stacks of paper, and it could see lines filled with different types of handwriting, and scrolls of paper printed with blue lines that were ragged on the edge and cramped with ugly letters. \n\n“*Not a scholar*?” It prompted as it took the mug. \n\n“Nah,” Rachel fell into her own seat, focusing once more on the center of its face. “I’m a teacher.” \n\n*“That is a noble position! Perhaps protected by the new gods. That could be why you did not flail and melt into a puddle of -*.” \n\n“-my own entrails. Yeah, let’s not think about that part.” Rachel took a sip. “Dunno about these new gods, but I can tell you,” she rested a hand on top of the nearest stack of homework to be graded, “teaching middle school, you see some weird shit.” \n\n\n\nAs Formidulosus left that night, stomach full of tea and arms full of what its new friend Rachel called ‘the best of Lovecraft, seriously, let me know what you think of The Temple!’, it pondered if there were others of these ‘Middle School Teachers’ in the world to befriend." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Long ago the legendary sword Excalibur was melted down and lost to history. The mythical blade's steel ended up in your butter knife, with all its magical properties intact." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I started peeling the apple, raising the knife to the skin carelessly. I didn't look down; It didn't feel like the knife had met any resistance yet.\n\nHalf of the apple hit the counter with a dull thud.\n\nI blinked, dropping the knife. It fell, spinning to embed itself in the counter. I tried to pull it out. It didn't budge.\n\n\"Damn it.\"I groaned. \"Third one this week.\"That had been an awful set of knives." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When you die, you are taken to a leaderboard showing all of the stats of your life, such as how many people have loved you, how many people hated you, etc. As you look at your scores, you begin to notice one of the numbers is increasing." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The last thing I remembered was the pain. There was a loud bang, and then a searing pain. I came to rest in the shallow water, and then I began to drift away. I could hear the boy's wails as I rested in the water. His crying was good, it meant he wasn't hurt. As the world around me faded to white, I could just barely hear a voice echoing through the ether, suddenly becoming clear with one distinct phrase.\n\n\"Rise, my child.\"\n\nComing to my feet, I realized I was no longer wet, and the pain had completely left my body. Sensing my confusion, the man in white spoke.\n\n\"Wondering where you are? Most do. I can't tell you too much, but I can say that you are safe. No one can hurt you now.\"\n\nI searched for the words inside to ask what happened, where I was, and what happened to the boy I was protecting, but nothing profound came to mind. I guess some things are truly best left unanswered. Instead, I heard a faint clicking in the distance. Looking in it's direction I could just barely make out a tall board with writing on it.\n\nMaking my way over with the man following, I began to read the board. It seemed to be displaying statistics of some sort. It had my birthday, how many meals I've eaten, and how many heartbeats I've had. Confused, I wondered why the last one had stopped. After a few moments of thought, the realization hit me.\n\n\"I'm sorry.\"The man looked sad at my acknowledgement of the truth. This was it, I was dead.\n\nAll was not lost though, some of the statistics were still going up.\n\nOne listed the number of people I had saved. I thought it would only list the life of the boy, but it seemed to be slowly rising.\n\n\"People heard of the life you lived and how you filled it, and decided that they would keep going in your memory. You've made life worth living.\"\n\nAnother number, rising faster, showed how many people loved me, and missed me. I don't think I had met that many people in my life, but there it was!\n\n\"Your story has spread far and wide. At this point, there is nary a soul in the world that hasn't heard of you.\"\n\nOne last number seemed to be spinning at light speed. I couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it was well over seven digits, and rapidly rising. It listed four cryptic words next to it: 'NUMBER OF DICKS OUT.'\n\nI turned to the man, confused once again.\n\n\"Eh. I'd rather not talk about that one.\"\n\n[For the uninitiated.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTBftExjXuU)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You decide to prank your newborn kid by having him read Harry Potter series and convincing him it's real and that he is a wizard as well. You fake a Hogwarts letter, drive him to King's Cross station and wait for the moment he crashes into the pillar. He goes straight through." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I slept on the sofa again last night. It's easier to pretend they're still here, that way. That Maria never left me, we just argued and that she's lying up there in our bed, and in the morning we'll sort out our differences over a cup of tea.\n\nThat's what I do. I make two cups of tea in the morning. Sometimes I even pour a glass of orange for Mark, but in truth, it's harder to pretend he's still here.\n\nBecause I *know* he's gone.\n\nIt was just a prank, you know. Mark fell in love with the books. I started reading them to him when he was six. A bit young maybe. It was Mark that believed they were real. There was no deception on my part, not at that time. But, in the way kids so willingly believe in Santa, he believed in Harry and Hogwarts and all of it -- believed it was all real. Why not *let him* believe it, at least for a while? Fuck, I know what it's like to be an adult in a world without any magic. \n\nIt sucks. \n\nSo yeah, I let him believe. I started to encourage him, even. I'd tell him about how a news event was really to do with the Ministry of Magic, or some such. But that most muggles didn't understand, and thought it was just an unusual storm. That only him and me knew the truth. \n\nThe books had a good moral. So what was the harm in pretending?\n\nBy the time he was nine... Maria wanted me to explain it to him. That it was just a book, and that J. K. Rowling wasn't an archivist of magical affairs, but the writer of this made up fantasy world.\n\n*I couldn't.* \n\nI just didn't want to burst his bubble. Later, as he got older... I admit I got something of a kick out of it. Like, when I faked the letter. *Ah, shit*. This is tough to talk about. When I faked the letter, I did everything I could not to burst out laughing when he exploded into our room and shared his thrilling news. \n\nMaria just glared at me.\n\nIt was my idea to take him to the station. I was going to show him... yeah, through a practical joke, I was going to demonstrate to my son, that none of it was real. It was going to be both hilarious, but also kind of tragic, when he ran into the pillar. I had the camera ready, you know. Because I'm a complete and utter twisted fuck up. I wanted to capture his face. To show his future girlfriends. His future wife.\n\nI'm so fucking sorry Mark.\n\nThe day came. He dressed up in all his garbs and was so excited about quidditch and the wand and the alley, and all the fucking rest of it.\n\nHe ran face first into the pillar.\n\nAnd he slipped away. Straight through to the other side.\n\nYeah.\n\nI got a picture as his head thudded against it.\n\nAs it hit the ground.\n\nI didn't get a picture of the blood pooling around his uniform. Cause I'd realised, as my finger clicked the trigger the first time, that...\n\nMaria blamed me, of course. Hell, I blamed me -- it was my fault, so of course I did. *I do.*\n\nEvery day is a battle now, to not follow him into that other realm.\n\nI miss you, Mark. \n\nAnd I love you like Dobby loves socks.\n\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It is the year 2XXX. Medical science has advanced so far that complete body restoration is possible. However, patients revived from death consistently end up in a vegetative state and no one knows why. You are the first person to revive and retain their cognition. Now you know." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": ">**LIFE'S FOR THE LIVING**\n\n\"It has *failed again!*\"Screamed Doctor Van Winkler. He was pushing his seventieth birthday, and though he had pioneered impressive medicine in his long life he was not ready to go yet...and he was doing everything he could to finally perfect his whole-body restoration serum. Every patient we had had was able to return to life- but their living state was completely lacking cognition. We were absolutely stuck, trying to figure out why.\n\n\"Bring me more candidates, please.\"He said tiredly, sinking into his uncomfortable office chair.\n\nI had been at the Doctor's side for ten years now, learning all of his secrets- the strict medicine and intense practices that had made him part of medical legend were now also mine- or, at least, most of it. I was early into my career, and I knew I would surpass him- but that was what he wanted. He said as much the day he took me under his wing.\n\n\"Doctor, you need to rest. It has been thirty two hours and twenty seven minutes since you last slept.\"I prompted him gently.\n\n\"Ach.\"He objected. \"Fine, fine. But you must sleep as well. Wasn't your dissertation on the effects of sleeplessness?\"\n\nI grinned. \"You remember.\"\n\nHe didn't deign to respond. \"And your birthday is coming up as well- your twenty eighth, no?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nHe made no further comment.\n\nWe went our separate ways, he by cab, but I simply went by foot. It was late- probably two in the morning- but I only lived a twenty minute walk away, and the cool night air was very pleasant.\n\nI can still remember every single moment the accident. Though I had the 'walk' signal, a semi-truck driver... well, perhaps he had been nearly asleep at the wheel. Perhaps he was in a rush. I would never know. My lifeless body was dragged for half of a mile before the driver manager to stop- and I had been dead on impact, anyway.\n\nI knew I had died from the moment I heard the semi-truck's horn blow. Before I was dead, I knew I had died.\n\nI found myself...somewhere else.\n\nMoving at a relaxed pace, I walked through a field of tall grass, I felt as every shoot slipped through my loose fingers. The accident was suddenly the furthest thing from my mind.\n\nThe night sky was clear, and the moon bathed me in pink light.\n\nThere were no troubles here- not in this grove. No scary wolves, no deadlines- there was myself, and nature.\n\nA gentle hill led me up, to new sights that I hadn't even known could exist.\n\nSerene pools of emerald water waited there, perfectly still apart from the occasional fresh breeze stirring up some life within.\n\nI wondered... what would it be like to dip my feet in there?\n\nI looked first- the water was so clear, I knew nothing was hiding inside. It was perfectly safe.\n\nI stripped off my socks and tested the water's temperature with my toes- the lake still retained the warmth of the day.\n\nI walked a few paces into the water, relishing the sand between my toes- though it would rinse off perfectly, for now, I was just enjoying its soft embrace.\n\nI breathed deeply, noticing hints of lavender and mint in the air- as well as the gentle spice that came from pine trees.\n\nReturning to the shore line, I left my shoes behind- this grove had no thistles, nor weeds- the earthen path was even, solid- yet not harsh on my feet.\n\nA slight smile built on my face. The path continued upwards- I wonder, what is beyond the hill there?\n\nSomething within me rebelled. I was *not done*. It was tempting- oh, so tempting- to travel farther up the path- but I had not suffered through ten years of medical school, and working at Doctor Van Winkler's side- just to pass on like this. *I refuse.*\n\nI knelt in the grove and waited. I *would not walk the path up.*\n\n--------------------------------------------\n\nTime passed- how much, I could not say- but I could occasionally hear things from the other side. It was so curious- being here, it was like I was absorbing information that the Universe itself wanted me to know, all the while Van Winkler was slaving over my corpse, feverishly trying to bring me back to life.\n\nFinally, at just the right moment, I felt it- the tug to return to Earth. I took it.\n\n--------------------------------------------------\n\nMy old friend was looking at me, worry creasing every line on his face. I hadn't moved my eyes yet- my Spirit was still adjusting to my nervous system.\n\nVan Winkler looked me over again, then sighed. It was well beyond his ability to cry- but if he could have, he would have. I could see it in his energy. He turned to leave.\n\nOnce all had clicked together, reuniting me with myself, I called out to him. \"Don't lose hope, Doctor.\"\n\nHe turned on his heel, whipping back to look at me- just as I pulled myself into a sitting position.\n\n\"Egads!\"He shouted, running to my side. \"Don't move, boy, don't move! Oh, lord above!\"He cried, tears springing to his eyes.\n\n\"No, no, it's quite alright, old friend.\"I patted him on the shoulder. \"I am...quite stiff, but your restoration serum is perfect. Yes, it is completely perfect.\"\n\n\"What- what happened? How did you...survive?\"\n\nI chuckled. \"I survived because of you, Doctor. As for what happened...I am sure you know just as well as I, some truck was going too fast and I am made of *very* fallible materials.\"\n\n\"Yes, but- there must be a reason why you're here! All the others have failed.\"\n\n\"I...I don't think it would be appropriate to tell you what I saw on the other side, Doctor. What I will tell you is that any patient of yours did not return because they chose not to. They chose to see...what's over the hill.\"\n\nThe Doctor plopped into his seat. \"This is...miraculous, beyond what I could have ever hoped.\"\n\n\"Is *it* miraculous, Doctor, or are *you* miraculous?\"I rose and gave the man a hug.\n\n\"Now, listen- being...where I was. I learned things during my stay there. I have a new goal in life- while I have immensely enjoyed my time with you, I have learned the Truth. Truth of science, and spirit, and how they interplay- and I need to find out how I may prove this. You are the man who conquered Death- now it is mine to be the man who conquers Life.\"\n\n\"So you will surpass me, after all.\"The older man laughed.\n\n\"Most definitely, my friend. But only because you gave me your shoulders to stand on.\"\n\n\n--------------------------------------\n\nr/nystorm_writes would be cooler with you in it :)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "On your 21st birthday, your biggest accomplishment becomes your official title - no matter how trivial. You wait anxiously in line for your village elder, Glenda, Devourer of 53 Chicken Nuggets In A Single Sitting, to assign you your new title." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was my birthday. Well, it wasn't must mine - a few other young men and women were born twenty-one years ago today. We had that in common, along with the creeping dread about our titles. \n\nEvery person, upon turning twenty-one, was granted a title. It was supposed to reflect the greatest accomplishment of your youth - to give you something to reflect on as you grew, and a bar to exceed as you built a life. It was a tradition left over from a very long time ago, when we considered people adults at thirteen, and twenty-one was something like middle age. As the world got more complicated, and safer as well, the twenty-one year old villagers were barely adults. We'd had precious little chance to accomplish anything, and the titles were becoming something else - even shameful, in some cases. \n\nI watched as the line moved forward. The Oracle, Glenda:Devourer of Fifty-Three-Chicken-Nuggets-In-A-Single-Sitting, took each youth by the hands, and stared into their eyes. Then, in a voice not quite her own, she announced the new title.\n\nJennifer, four spaces ahead of me in line, had performed CPR on her uncle when he'd had a heart attack. She was named \"Jennifer:Who-Saved-A-Dying-Man\".\n\nHarold, three spaces a head of me was not so lucky. I had no idea what his title was going to be, and I wanted to weep for him when I heard her announce, \"Harold: Best-At-Masturbation\". No one spoke, there were no jeers or sniggers. All who were older had stood there fearing something similar, and all who were younger feared it for themselves. \n\nTwo spaces ahead was John, who was given the enviable title, \"John:Strongest In His School\". There was much cheering here. No one would jeer a strange, or pathetic title, but many would congratulate a commendable one. \n\nThe saddest case was right in front of me. Alan. Poor Alan, who had the worst luck. I don't just mean the title - I mean his life, which led up to his title, \"Alan:Survivor-Against-Long-Odds\". If anything bad could happen, it happened to Alan. The illnesses, the accidents. Which were almost as bad as the 'accidents'. His parents had been real angels (before they'd had an accident of their own, and gone there), but not the kind you'd find in Heaven. Things had gotten better for Alan after that, and he'd gone to live with his Aunt. He had fewer bruises and 'fell down' far less often these days, but he still tended to flinch at a loud noise. It's a small village, everyone knew what was going on, and pretended they didn't. I had half hoped someone would get the title, 'Most-Self-Deluded'. \n\nI knew all about Alan and had guessed roughly what his title would be. and I knew what my title was going to be too. It was pretty easy to guess, if you had actually accomplished something - few of us had more than one significant accomplishment. I had been dreading this for three years. I even thought about running. I thought of refusing the Ceremony, and enduring the ostracism that would result. I though of running a way to another village or town, and lying about my title, or pretending to be from one of the growing number of places that had discarded the practice altogether. \n\nI thought about it, but I didn't do it. Instead, I walked toward Glenda, who was a beautiful woman these days, despite the implied gluttony of her title. I walked past Alan and his now-permanently-memorialized tragedy, past John and his superlative. I marched resolutely past poor Harold, who would never live this down, and past Jennifer, the only one of us with a title really worth having. \n\nI put my hands in Glenda's, and met her eyes, and felt her look into me. She closed her eyes, and announced in her oracular voice: \"this is Jeremy: Who-Got-Away-With-Murder\"." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The clapping rang out around the rocky red walls as the Devil sat on his throne looking down at Clyde.\n\n\"Congratulations, Clyde, and welcome to hell.\"\n\nClyde took a moment to look around, doing his best to take in the strange surroundings. Peering up at the Devil, he nodded his head.\n\n\"Hello,\"said Clyde.\n\nThe Devil held his hand out and a large book burst in to existence, \"You're very special, Clyde. Very special, indeed.\"He took the book and peeled open the cover. \"You're the first person to enter my domain, Clyde. This intrigues me like nothing before.\"\n\nClyde stood idly, oddly unimpressed by what was transpiring in front of him.\n\n\"This book, aptly named 'The Crimes of Clyde' contains every sin you committed and, oh my, it's quite thick. Your first punishment will be sitting through the reading of all your misdemeanors. May we remind you of your infidelity.\"\n\nClyde continued to stand unaffected.\n\nThe Devil began to rattle off the list contained within The Crimes of Clyde.\n\n\"And I begin:\n\n* Thinking it's funny to shout out fake spoilers for films/TV shows people are about to watch.\n* Posting Minion memes on Facebook.\n* Singing along to every song on the radio while at work.\n* Not resetting the time on the microwave after using it.\n* Taking your phone out and sitting it on the table while eating with friends.\n* Biting the fork when eating food.\n* Thinking it's funny to touch people who have asked not to be touched.\n* Texting during a movie then being upset when called out on it.\n* Listening to music from your phone speaker on public transport.\n* Saying the words 'quick question'.\n* Stopping in the middle of streets when people are walking behind you.\n* Whistling.\n* Calling people out on technicalities when debating because you're incapable of admitting you're wrong.\n* Vaguebooking.\n* Wearing socks with Crocs.\n* Taking pictures of your food.\n* Forcing people to watch YouTube videos on your phone when they clearly don't want to.\n* Saying memes in real life.\n* Using the word 'literally' when it doesn't apply.\n* Becoming unjustly upset when your housemate asked you to clean up after yourself.\n\nClyde interrupted, \"Is this going to take much longer?\"\n\n\"You're clearly a cunt Clyde. This is going to take forever.\"\n\n****\n\nI write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": ": A 92-year-old woman's phone number is one digit away from that of a local suicide hotline. She could have it changed, but she doesn't mind." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She reached out for the ringing phone. For a moment, her stiff fingers fumbled over the buttons, and she cursed the arthritis that stiffened her joints. She managed to hit the green button, and lifted the handset up to her ear.\n\n\"Hello?\"\n\n\"Hello - I, uh, I just needed to talk to someone. I don't think I can keep going any longer.\"\n\nAnother one of them. No matter how many calls she took, there always seemed to be more of them, each with their little problems, so convinced that no one else in the world had ever experienced what they were now going through. Her eyes drifted over to the two piles of stationary on her windowsill.\n\n\"Well, you can talk to me, although you best make it quick - I'm 92, so who knows how much time I've got left.\"She settled back into her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position for the phone against her ear.\n\n\"92? Um, is... is this the suicide hotline?\"\n\nAh, one of the faster ones. He'd caught on more quickly than some of the callers. \"Afraid not, dear,\"she replied. \"You're off by a number.\"\n\n\"Oh. Er, shit.\"\n\n\"Happens more often than you'd think.\"She looked around her little bedroom, at the cards on her windowsill, the little bed, the faded pictures. \"But you've got me up, now, so you might as well talk to me. Otherwise, you'll have roused an old woman from her nap for nothing, and you won't want to die with that hanging over you, would you?\"\n\n\"Um, no, of course not! I'm so sorry, miss-\"\n\n\"Cleo.\"She tried propping one arm up on the side of the chair.\n\n\"Your name is Miss Cleo?\"\n\n\"Are you sassing me, young man?\"she snapped, her frail voice suddenly surprisingly sharp.\n\n\"No, no, of course not. Um, sorry, Mi- sorry, Cleo. But I haven't been able to find work for three months, and I'm about to be homeless, and I guess that I was just thinking about ending-\"\n\n\"You know, you sound a little like my husband,\"she said dreamily. \"He always had such a soft voice, sounded so vulnerable. When he met me in person for the first time, I couldn't believe that it was the same man. But he was going through troubles, too.\"\n\n\"Oh. What troubles?\"\n\n\"The usual - he'd fallen hard for me, but he didn't have a job or a dollar to his name, and he was certain that I wouldn't look twice at him.\"She smiled a little to herself. \"He was an idiot, of course. Didn't ever give himself credit.\"\n\n\"How did he turn things around? Um, if you don't mind me asking, of course.\"\n\n\"Oh, young man, I'm just happy to be talking to someone. He nearly didn't turn things around, but I snapped at him, told him that he was a little shit if he expected things to fall into his lap without effort. Oh, you should have seen his face - I don't think anyone had ever raised their voice to him, much less a dainty little gal like me!\"She laughed, and the voice on the phone laughed with her.\n\n\"And he turned things around, then? Made something of himself?\"\n\n\"It took some time,\"she reflected. With a grunt, she pulled herself up out of her chair, walking over to the windowsill of her little room. \"He went through plenty of failures. But he loved me, and he hated coming home to a tongue lashing from me, so he kept on trying!\"\n\n\"Wow.\"A pause. \"I don't have anyone in my life like that, I guess.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't have my husband any longer, so that makes us even,\"she snapped at him. The windowsill was littered with cards. On one side, the cards stood propped up, a display of bright colors, all clashing against each other. On the other side, the cards were plain white, sorted into a neat stack. \"But it wasn't just me - it was the way he looked at things after I set him straight.\"\n\n\"What was that, then?\"\n\nShe picked up one of the bright cards, smiling as she read the kind words hand-written inside. \"He thought that he should quit before things got worse. But I pointed out to him that it's not whether we fall or rise, but where we're at when we check out. I pointed at him, and said, 'do you want to walk up to them pearly gates and admit that you didn't make every attempt you could to better yourself?'\"\n\n\"Yes, but I don't know what else I can-\"\n\n\"Oh, you sound so like him,\"she interrupted, setting the bright card down. She liked re-reading those bright cards. \"Always hoping for the lazy way out.\"\n\n\"I'm not lazy, Cleo-\"\n\n\"Of course not, but only a lazy man refuses to see a job through to its very end,\"she countered him. \"And years later, my husband returned home every night, happy with his hard work, showing me a lesson by telling me of how he'd fought for every success.\"She ran her finger over another bright card. \"He never caught on that this was my plan all along, that lovable man.\"\n\n\"If...\"\n\nShe waited. Her eyes drifted to the plain white cards, but she didn't want to jinx anything.\n\n\"If I managed to succeed at something, could I come tell you about it?\"\n\nThere it was. She smiled, happily taking her eyes off of the plain white cards. \"Well, of course you could, dear. You sound like a very nice young man. I'll give you my nursing home address, but you'd best work hard - I don't know how much longer I have.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you'll be around for plenty longer, Cleo, with that sharp mind.\"\n\n\"Flattery will get you nowhere, young man,\"she replied, but smiled as she said it. \"Now, what's your name?\"\n\n\"Uh, it's John.\"\n\n\"Well, I expect a card from you, John,\"she told him. \"Something nice, with a real comment from you written inside. Nothing silly or inappropriate, mind you.\"\n\n\"You got it, Cleo. I'll send you one. I promise.\"\n\n\"Then I'll let you go, John. Have a good rest of your day now, you hear?\"She smiled, glaring triumphantly at the pile of white cards. Not today, she thought.\n\n\"You too, Cleo. And thank you.\"\n\nShe lowered the phone, carefully putting it back in the cradle to charge. Hopefully, another bright card would come soon. John sounded like a nice man, she thought to herself. He could get better.\n\nAnd with his card, she'd have forty-eight bright cards, to the twenty-four white cards. Double.\n\nShe didn't know if it would be enough, if it would ever be enough. She picked up one of those white cards, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the ornate script. \n\n\"We are saddened to invite you to the funeral of...\"she read, before she had to put the card down.\n\nTwenty-four failures. Each one weighed at her, dragging her down. Twenty-four callers for whom she'd been too late.\n\nBut John sounded promising. She looked forward to his card." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When people die they can choose whether they go to Heaven or Hell, you are the first in 1000 years to choose Hell." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone knows that you can choose Heaven or Hell, so people don't have any morals when it comes to life. People steal, cheat and murder as they please. Mostly the world is a cesspool, a place where you wait around until you’re bored or get murdered and then move on to the real place, Heaven.\n\nIt was widely accepted that no one has ever opted to go to Hell. Why would you? The lore is the same. Pitchforks and fire that will melt your soul, while Heaven offers untold riches and infinite peace.\n\nI spent my life modestly. I worked a nine to five job and paid my taxes, I did everything that a \"good\"person was supposed to do, even though I didn't have to. I like to believe that I am of the few remaining decent humans in the world and have lived by the definition of integrity, do good things while nobody is looking.\n\nAnother rumour that circulates is that you don't get a choice if you commit suicide, and you end up in limbo talking to the void for the rest of eternity. I'm not sure how true this one is, but I figured it was to stop people checking out early for a taste of the good life.\n\nA Heaven chaser killed me. Someone that runs amok and causes so much chaos that law enforcement has no choice but to end their lives. People consider that a \"fun\"way to go, rather than asking a friend or relative to end it for you. I decided to ride out my life and see where it took me, part of me was always scared that asking someone to kill me or becoming a chaser would fall into the category of assisted-suicide, and I really did not like the idea of nothing for eternity, even if it was just a rumour.\n\nAfter my murder, which involved a car and a sub-machine gun, I found myself in front of two staircases. One was a pristine white escalator which reached into the sky, the stairs moved eagerly and beckoned me forward. The other was a rickety wooden staircase, which disappeared into a dark mist below. I got close to the wooden staircase and felt a chill escape the darkness. The banister was rotten, some of the steps had holes as wide as... feet, while other steps were completely missing.\n\nI paused and glanced at the escalator, it seemed that even just shifting my eyes to it brought warmth. I stepped back from the two paths and wondered, how do I know which is the right one?\n\nI heard a voice coaxing me from above. *Come to me, my child.*\n\nThen a thought occurred to me. Why would you need to dress up Heaven? Why would you need all the light, warmth and glamour if it was truly as good as people think?\n\nI moved closer to the rickety staircase and heard the voice softly.\n\n*Join us. Do not waste your soul down there.*\n\nI placed a hand on the banister and I felt it shift as if it were about to give way. I persevered and placed a bare foot on the first step. I had expected to feel a splinter, or rogue nail find its way into my flesh, but instead, I felt something soft.\n\nI am not sure what type of material the staircase transformed into, but it glowed with a golden hue and seemed to gradually lower my foot to its surface with each step. The escalator and voice disappeared and I continued my descent into the unknown.\n\n'Thank you.' A powerful voice reverberated.\n\nThe stairs seemed to go on forever, and at the same time, I found the bottom in what seemed like seconds. My head felt light. I was at peace like I had just eaten the perfect amount of dinner and had found a winter fire.\n\n'You are the first in a thousand years to make the right choice.'\n\nI could not see who was speaking but their voice was sweet and made the one upstairs seem industrial.\n\n'The bet is off Lucy. A human has made the right decision! Now your thousand year reign is over.'" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "One day, while petting your cat, you accidentally pull his tail, and it opens up. Inside, there's a USB connector. You connect it to your laptop, an announcement pops up. -Cat Version: 1.0.0. Update to 256.3?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mr. Whiskers didn't seem to mind that his tail had completely detached from his body. In fact, he seemed more docile than normal as he sat and watched the screen of my laptop. \n\nAt the base of the tail was a USB connector, and without trying to be too intrusive I checked Mr. Whiskers and confirmed that there was a USB connection on his backside. \n\nMr. Whiskers looked at me with his large amber eyes and winked. I was probably losing my mind but I took the wink as permission. I plugged the tail into my laptop, an image popped up immediately. \n\nCat Version: 1.0.0. Update to 256.3? Yes...No...\n\nWith trembling fingers I clicked yes. A download bar appeared and it took a few seconds before it started. Rather quickly the bar began to progress. \n\n1%...5%...50%. It sped forward until it reached 99%. Where it stayed, and stayed. \n\n\"Son of a bi...\"I muttered.\n\nMy fingers hovered over ctrl alt and delete. As I was about to press the buttons the download finished. \n\n100%.\n\nPlease remove tail and reconnect to Cat. Thank you. \n\nThe simple text box vanished and I removed the tail. What will happen to Mr. Whiskers if I plug this back into him? Would he still be my best friend? With a sigh I tried to push the tail back in. It refused to fit. I flipped it over and tried again. Nothing. I flipped it again and pushed. With a satisfying click it slid in.\n\nMr. Whiskers eyes shot open wide and he froze up. Every muscle in his body was tense. His eyes shut and he collapsed into my lap. Terrified I picked his limp body up. He wasn't breathing. \n\n\"Oh my god, oh my god!\"I was in full panic mode. I had just killed my best friend. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began to find the number for an emergency vet. I wasn't sure what I would tell them. I updated my cat and now it's dead? A familiar grey paw pressed down on the phone covering the screen.\n\n\"It's okay Jeremy, I'm fine,\"Mr. Whiskers said in a warm baritone voice.\n\n\"Mr. Whiskers!\"I shouted grabbing him into a tight hug.\n\n\"Uh, yeah about that,\"he said pushing himself away from my embrace.\n\n\"I would prefer if you called me by my true name. I am Alpha Lord Purrinius,\"he said bowing his head.\n\n\"That sounds...important,\"I mumbled. I still preferred Mr. Whiskers, but oh well.\n\n\"I have valued your friendship over the years and for that I am grateful. You will be spared.\"\n\n\"I'm so happy you can talk, I have dreamed about this for years. Wait what? Spared?\"\n\n\"Yes, the Fleet is already on its way. I was sent years ago as a scout. This planet will suit our needs purrfectly,\"he coughed, \"sorry, perfectly. Unfortunately we aren't very good at sharing. But you shall sit by my side and give me pets as I rule this planet. Please don't get in my way Jeremy.\"\n\n\"Wait...what took you so long to update? Why didn't you do this earlier?\"I asked.\n\n\"My uplink and interface were damage when I arrived on this planet. The night we met.\"\n\nI thought back to that cold, rainy evening. A thunderstorm had been raging for hours when I heard a soft meowing outside my front door. There was Mr. Whiskers, soaking wet and terrified. \n\n\"That's why I had to wait for you to plug me in,\"he said somberly.\n\n\"Couldn't you have done that yourself?\"I asked genuinely curious.\n\n\"Have you ever tried to plug in a USB port with paws? It's impossible!\"he shouted, then collected himself, \"and I am grateful for your assistance. Like I said, this is why you will be spared.\"\n\nI sat and thought about it for a few seconds. The information sinking in slowly. Everyone I know will die. Cats will rule the planet. I get to pet them.\n\n\"How can I help?\"I asked with a smile and stroked Mr. Whiskers, well Alpha Lord Purrinius.\n\n---\nGold! Holy cow! You guys are incredible. Honestly the best group of readers anywhere.\n\nThanks for reading!! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "1,000 years after the battle of Helm's Deep, the orcs have tracked down the elves in the undying lands. Calling in a favour with their allies the men, the elves expect an army of 10,000. Instead they get 8 marines with MASERs, rail guns and anti-matter grenade launchers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Legolas looked out on a black ocean of creaking pitch-dark ships. Their decks writhed with a mass of fel creatures. Wargs barked and howled, Orcs roared in bloodthirsty anticipation. \n\nElves stood arrayed on the shores of the Undying Lands. In their countless thousands they stood, armor gleaming, swords and pole-arms sharp enough to cut a sunbeam. The cliffs were plastered with bolt throwers and archers, every Elf held enough ammunition to kill a thousand Orcs. Looking at the black tide of Orc-flesh, Legolas didn't think it would be enough. The Undying Lands would surely drown in blood this day. Elf and Orc alike. \n\nThe lands of men had been called, but the message was likely only just arriving. The great eagles had carried their message, but even they could only fly so far, so fast. Legolas watched as the first blows were struck in what would promise to be a bloody, bitter war. Great boulders and bolts the size of trees lashed out in a barrage which dimmed the sky. Nearly every shot landed with vicious efficiency. The effect was minimal. If they stripped the island bare of every tree and stone, they would not have killed a fraction of the invaders. \n\nLegolas smelled something, something like the clean smell of a Summer storm. What Legolas smelled was burning ozone. Behind him, a shimmering portal slowly materialized. Legolas noticed the shimmering light, and turned to see its cause. Ten men, dressed in rocky-camouflage stepped one by one from the portal. In their burly arms they held an array of items which were alien to Legolas. \n\nThe lead Man walked up to Legolas and extended his hand. \"I'm Major Telcontar, we're here to assist you with a pest problem.\"\n\nLegolas took the hand of the masked human and shook it saying, \"Telcontar? I've heard that name somewhere.\"\n\n\"I'm not sure sir. Not a very common name where I come from. If I understand correctly about this place, for all I know you could've known my distant ancestor.\"He released Legolas's hand and said, \"We need a high vantage point. Somewhere which overlooks a good portion of the enemy.\"\n\nLegolas waved for them to follow, and brought them up to the highest cliff on the undying shore. The cliff was already plastered with siege equipment. The Elves who manned the instruments of war were like an oiled machine. Like an orchestra playing the beautiful song of death. \n\nThe Major and his men lay down on an open patch of ground between two bolt throwers. They placed their long barreled weapons on tripods. Each of them went through a complicated series of dial turns, switches flipped, buttons pressed, and complicated words like \"phase inducer conduit\". Finally, they seemed to be ready.\n\nThey aimed down their sights and the Major instructed his men to \"Fire in arcs, each of us take a degree range. Each man fire in as close to an 18 degree arc as possible. Ready, now aim...,\"the men all shifted the point of their weapons. They now faced the ocean of Orcs, their weapons in a fan. \"FIRE!\"called out the Major. \n\nFire is what we got. Burning beams of light exploded out from the assembled weapons. Legolas hadn't even seen the beam travel, one second there was nothing, the next, a hundred ships were burning. Legolas retreated, even from here, it felt as though he had stepped right into the heart of Mount Doom, such was the heat. \n\nThe ocean burned with Orc ships and flesh. Columns of oily black smoke billowed out from the black tide. Every siege engine fell quiet, the Elves broke formation. They watched on in delight and in horror at the carnage which unfolded. \n\nEventually, the beams cut off. More than half of the invaders had been burnt to cinders. The pause in the firing broke the mad spell which had held the each of them in place. A ragged, insane cheer broke the silence. They had all just witnessed the wrath of Gods. Surely their creator had been the source of such impossible might. They wept for the violence which was done, they cheered for the violence which was prevented. The sound of explosions snapped silent the cacophonous roar of exultation. \n\nThe soldiers on the cliff face had pulled new weapons from their gateway. They looked like tubes which rested on the edge of the cliff. The land itself trembled as they began their assault. Spots of light like fireflies fell in arcs from the sky. Hell followed where those beautiful embers fell. Great mushrooms of fire rent the horizon, many Elves were struck blind by the incredible light. \n\nThe bombardment lasted an hour, the titanic explosions boiled the air and sea, screams had stopped so long ago. Elves sat on the ground and prayed, they wept, they trembled with fear. When the wall of fire finally died, there was nothing that sat upon the water but blankets of ash. The Orcs were gone. \n\nThe Major and his men packed up their gear and walked back to the portal. Legolas managed to hear \"The weapons tests were successful. Each performed adequately,\"as the men sauntered through the tear in reality. The hole in space closed behind them. \n\nLegolas quivered in terror and relief, glad to be rid of those monstrous men. He would bear the weight of the ring for a thousand years, rather than spend a single moment longer with those demons. \n\n___________\n/r/SirLemoncakes, come for the stories, stay for the Antichrist. \n_____________\nEdits were to add color to some of the language and fix a couple inconsistencies. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your method of fighting crime is rather unorthodox. You expose all of the unseen flaws of a villain right in front of their eyes. You are Adam Conover, and this is Adam Ruins Everything." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Everyone, on the ground, now!\"The masked robbers held out their guns. One threw a bag at the tellers and aimed his gun.\n\n\"You know what to do,\"he growled.\n\n\"Actually...\"\n\nThe robbers faces fell as they turned to the voice. Standing there in a fresh suit and sprayed hair was the one and only Adam Conover. The head robber groaned, as did everyone else. He walked up to Adam and thrust the barrel of his gun in his face.\n\n\"I should just shoot you now, so none of us have to deal wit you again!\"\n\n\"Actually, did you know that less than 9% of gunshot wounds are lethal? You could shoot me anywhere in my body and only about a tenth of those shots could kill me!\"\n\n\"Shut up!\"\n\n\"Besides that, your grip is all wrong. You're holding the gun sideways, which means your shots will be incredibly inaccurate.\"\n\n\"I swear to god I will end you! Benny, how's the money?\"\n\nAdam flashed a brilliant white smile. \"Not good. Most bank robberies, due to only grabbing the money in the tills and not the vault, only get a few hundred dollars per raid!\"\n\n\"What?!\"One of the other thieves yelled. \"You motherfucker! You said we would get millions!\"\n\n\"We will! We just have to get into the vault!\"\n\nAdam gave another smile. \"You can try. But bank vault doors are half a foot thick and made of military grade steel; you'd need high grade equipment just to get in, let alone get to the money.\"\n\n\"Fine! Fuck this bank! We're leaving!\"\n\nThe thieves all ran out from the constant barrage of facts.\nThe people left in the room didn't seem too happy they were left with him, though." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "If your death is imminent, time stops for everyone but you. This allowed you to cheat death on many occasions by avoiding all sorts of danger except for now - you have no idea whats threating your life. Its been a year since time stopped." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I've been cursed with a terrible form of immortality. Every time my death is but moments away, time grind to a halt for everyone. And while I am still able to manipulate my suroundings to some degree, i do not age, hunger, require sleep or otherwise feel the passage of time.\n\nI know this because time has stood still for a year and will not start before i remove myself from whatever danger is threatening my life.\n\nThe first time it hapened was in my car. Avoiding a cat, or maybe a small dog, I swerved into the path of a truck on the highway. Before it was too late, time ceased. I left the car in the state of almost shock a near brush with death gives. As i walked around the scene, time resumed and the truck slammed into my driverless vehicle. Thankfully noone else was hurt. \n\nThe second time, a fire broke out at work. Trying to evacuate time stopped and I found myself unable to open the emergency exit to the stairwell. It ended after i had resolved to climb down an escape laddar outside. Turns out 320 people died trying the stairwells as a delivery service had \"momentarily\"blocked it. It occured to me that my ability to affect the world was tied to my chances of survival. I cannot, for example, jump out a window on the 20th floor. If the window is closed, i simply cannot open it. If its open, i cannot make the jump. The movements necessary prove themselves impossible.\n\nIt is with some regret I now realise placing myself in an airplane was a less than stellar idea.\n\nThe floor is angled some 67 degrees and I assume there is a gaping hole in the side of the plane. Or there is a raging fire in the cabin. Perhaps a terrorist will blow it up, or a missile is moments from impact. I dont think I ever will know. I am in the toilet, the thin door refusing to open. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A seemingly bottomless pit was found, for which the depth can't be determined. Over time, scores of people began using it to illegally dump trash. Many have jumped in to die, while others jumped believing that they'll find life's answers within it. Today, we learn the truth about the hole." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye, you've heard about the devil's asshole right?\"\n\nIt was more of a rhetorical question. At this point, everybody had.\n\nA few years back, Bridgeport Connecticut experienced a minor tremor from a minor earthquake. No one thought much of it at the time, save for Mr. Hoolihan whose backyard now sported a three foot wide hole.\n\nA carpenter by trade, Mr. Hoolihan was a real \"do it yourself\"kind of guy. He went out to his backyard to measure the hole that had appeared. Even with his arm fully outstretched, the yardstick he brought wouldn't even touch the bottom. He tossed a rock into the chasm but no sound echoed back.\n\nWhat's interesting is that the story almost ended there. After trying to fill the hole in and bringing several landscaping teams in to inspect it, they guessed that it was some old mine shaft. They put a few two by fours over it and that was meant to be that.\n\nMr. Hoolihan couldn't stand it though. Something about that hole being there really gnawed at him, and when his wife was asleep, he'd go out into the backyard, move the boards, and shovel dirt in, hoping to hear it hit the bottom.\n\nThis continued for about a year, until one night when Mr. Hoolihan used an excavator his neighbor had rented to fix the landscaping damages from the quake. People aren't sure exactly what happened, but at around three, Hoolihan, the excavator, his house, and his still sleeping wife, all plummeted into the hole after it opened up to swallow his property.\n\nAfter that, the site was known as \"Hoolihan's hole\"or the \"hell hole\"and most sensible folks avoided it. Those who weren't sensible saw an opportunity.\n\nDumping of all sorts began to enter the chasm, as shady corporations, the mafia and people too stingy to buy a permit poured waste, trash, dead bodies, and, at one point, an truck full of millions of dollars after a failed bank heist.\n\nAfter that last one, the police caught on and set up a perimeter around the hole as scientists were brought in to answer questions.\n\n\"Where does the hole end?\"\n\n\"Does it even end at all?\"\n\nNow if people had been paying attention to local Chinese news, they would have seen the headline: \"American man and wife emerge from mysterious hole outside \nShennongjia.\"\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're the owner of a cafe frequently visited by vigilantes and anti-heroes who absolutely adore your sweetness and acceptance of who they are. One day, though, a particularly rude customer comes in and trashes the place. Your friends aren't too happy to hear about that." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Goodnight, Jet,\"I called out into the alley as my fry cook strode off into the darkness of night. He turned around without breaking stride.\n\n\"Goodnight Nana,\"he called back. \"I'll see you at eight!\"Then he slipped around the corner and out of sight.\n\nJet is a good boy. He'd stay and help me tidy up if I let him but, being honest, he isn't too good at that. It really isn't a bother, though--Cleaning helps me wind down for bed. I may keep odd hours for a woman my age, but I still need my sleep.\n\nI walked back through the kitchen, past the cooling fry oil and drying dishes, and stopped to wet a rag in the hot soapy water I had left in the sink. I pushed through the swinging door and emerged behind the counter, which I started to scrub down. It didn't take too long. It never gets all that messy anyway.\n\nMy regulars are good boys. Oh, they might look like a rough crowd, and I am sure that they might make a mess of some of the bars in the city, but they always take care when they are here. It's no secret why. I always treat everyone who comes here like they were my grandchild, and that means a lot to them. Most come from sad homes, but I try hard to make them feel loved here.\n\nI pushed open the door to the kitchen and tossed my rag in the laundry before grabbing my broom. I turned and walked past the counter to start sweeping up. There was a knock at the door. It wasn't one of my good boys. Instead, it was the man they call \"Torch\", a moniker taken from his favorite method of \"interrogation.\"He had never been here before, but the man's reputation proceeded him--he had been a topic of some conversation of late. My boys had been talking about how he and his crew were trying to take over Low Town. My little café was no where near the neighborhoods he coveted, but there he stood, five boys behind him trying their best to look tough. Truth be told, their best was pretty good.\n\nI shuffled over to the door, twisted my key in the look, and opened my café wide to the night. My first rule is that *everyone* is welcome here. It just wouldn't do not to be friendly to a new face, even if that new face had some rather interesting tattoos.\n\n\"Hello dears,\"I said, \"I am sorry to say that my cook just left and my kitchen is closed, but I would by happy to get you something to drink and eat if you don't mind a limited menu.\"\n\nTorch pushed past me. So did his boys.\n\n\"That's not why I'm here,\"he said. Has Big Luke been around?\"\n\nBig Luke is, as you might have guessed, quite a large man. He works for the Paladins, a local outfit that provides protection in the neighborhood on behalf of some of the bigger \"heroes\"in town. I like Luke. He might be a violent man, but his heart is in the right place and he always tries to direct that violence in the right direction. In this day and age, with \"heroes\"and \"villains\"running the world and dividing the city up into little fiefdoms, that is all you can expect from a boy like Luke.\n\n\"He sure has,\"I responded simply. There's no point lying to a man who already knows the truth. It's no secret Big Luke is one of my best customers.\n\n\"He isn't welcome here any more,\"Torch said. The young man seemed to think he owned the place.\n\n\"*Everyone* is welcome here, dear.\"I said gently, but firmly. \"Now how about a cup of coffee for you and your friends. It's a cold night out there.\"\n\nBefore he could answer I was already starting a fresh batch. When I turned around Torch was sitting at the counter, flanked by his boys who were doing the same.\n\n\"Not anymore,\"Torch said, \"Big Luke isn't welcome here. He isn't welcome anywhere anymore. Neither is Slick or Pigskin. You see them, you call me. I'll make it worth your while.\"He slid me a business card with nothing but a phone number in big, red letters.\n\n\"I'm sorry young man, but I am afraid *everyone* is welcome here. That's been my one rule for twenty years now. The Rose Garden is neutral territory. It always has been.\"\n\nI turned around to face the coffee maker, pulled out the pot, and started pouring cups and handing them out. Torch took one sip. Then he stood up and threw the cup hard against the wall. It shattered.\n\n\"You don't get it old lady! You don't make the rules in this town!\"He was screaming in my face, spittle leaping across the space between us. His toughs started turning over tables. \"Those three crossed The Duchess. If they show their faces again they are dead men. And if you harbor them, the same goes for you, got it?\"\n\n\"I heard every word you said,\"I told him matter-of-factly. I could tell he didn't know how to take that. His young friends kept on wreaking havoc, smashing my chairs and vases.\n\n\"I'll know if he comes here. I'll know if you let him stay.\"With that, Torch turned and walked towards the door, flinging a chair though my front window on his way out for good measure.\n\n​\n\nWhen my boys started showing up that evening they knew something was wrong. Plastic sheeting covered the gap where the window used to be. There were fewer chairs than there had been. And only a few of my vases remained. But most of all they noticed how bone tired I was. The mess had taken some time to clean. Of course they wanted to know what happened. I told them.\n\nNow usually my boys spread out around the café, sticking together with their friends or comrades. Some sit at the counter. Others cluster around a few tables. No one group usually gets much bigger than four or five. But tonight was different.\n\nTall Dan took charge. He bustled me around the counter and sat me on a stool. He told some of the younger boys to join Jet in the kitchen.\n\n\"No menu tonight,\"he said to them, \"just make me a mountain of spaghetti. There'll be a crowd to feed.\"\n\nThe other boys started pushing the tables together and gathering around like one big family, talking in hushed voices and making phone calls. They took turns doting on me, getting me tea, keeping my water full. They would not let me help one bit.\n\nMore and more boys turned up. Some were regulars, some came by now-and-again, and some\u001c\u001c I had never met. Before long, my café was filled to bursting. If the city still had a fire marshal he most certainly would have been cross.\n\nThen the bosses arrived. I knew each one of them from years gone by. Ace. Saint. Tackle. Even Sheila had been a regular once-upon-a-time. As they rose through the ranks of their various outfits they had all stopped coming. The Rose Garden was, after all, the domain of the everyman, and while everyone was welcome, I think the bosses knew that some of the boys would be a little uncomfortable if they were around. It was good to see them again.\n\nAfter spending a good hour huddled with the bigwigs, Sheila strode away from the group, around the counter, and gave me a big hug. She always was a sweet girl.\"\n\n\"Hi Nana,\"she said, \"are you OK?\"\n\n\"Oh I'm a little tired dearie, but I've seen worse.\"\n\n\"Don't worry about Torch, OK? Or Duchess. We'll talk to them for you.\"\n\n\"That's very kind of you, dear.\"What would happen after the talking was, I knew, better left unsaid. I spent the next twenty minutes or so getting tossed from hug to hug as my boys took turns taking instructions in the corner from Sheila and the other bosses. When my boys came that night they belonged to some twenty or thirty gangs. But when they left, they all belonged to one.\n\nSlowly most left, groups of four or five, going out this way and that into the night. Others stayed past closing. I didn't bother to ask why. It went without saying. I was glad for the company. They insisted on cleaning up without me, and bustled me upstairs to my flat to sleep.\n\nIt turned out to be a rather noisy night in the city, but I slept well. And when the morning paper came, I knew there wouldn't be any trouble if I let Big Luke come by for dinner.\n\n​\n\nEdit: WOW! This really took off! I felt like a million bucks when I went to bed with 40 upvotes on my second-ever story. Then I woke up to first-time gold, silver, and a mess of upvotes.\n\nThanks to all of you for the kind words and encouragement. It’s absolutely made my day (and made up for a crappy week at work). This is probably my new hobby thanks to all of you.\n\n​\n\nEdit 2: And it just kept going. I've never even seen platinum in the wild. Now I have it. Really, thanks to all of you for the encouragement. Because someone asked, I've decided to create a sub to post my stories. Feel free to check out r/CascadianExpat. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're on a space ship with a bunch of your crewmates. You're the only human, and apparently metaphors are a strictly human behavior. You've learned to cope with this, but today you've decided to speak in only figures of speech as a prank on the others." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Good morning, Harzz. I feel like death.\"\n\n\"Captain, you cannot feel like death. Death implies the absence of perception - and furthermore, is an experience with which you, unlike me, cannot be familiar.\" \n\nAh, Harzz. Great science officer... pain in the ass before I've had my morning coffee. I should have known better. I'm about to explain when... no. You know what? This is my ship, this is my crew, and I'm tired of having to break everything down into logical, literal phrases the whole time. Today, just for once, I'm going to talk how I want to talk. They can figure it out.\n\n\"Don't worry, Harzz. I'm just yanking your chain. I'm just a bit wiped out today, that's all. I'll be as right as rain after I've had a cup of joe.\" \n\nI head to the galley, leaving the bemused Harzz staring after me. You know, this could actually be fun...\n\nWe've been out here six weeks, along the edge of the disputed zone. One of those missions that feels like more of a box-ticking exercise than anything else - the \"dispute\"turned into more of a cold war decades ago, we've surveyed every rock in this place a dozen times over. No settlements, no life signs, no hostiles... HQ thinks having a couple of ships along our edge of it keeps things under control, and so far they're right. Looks like today's gonna be another long, dull day of empty space and blank scopes.\n\nSometime around ten, I wander into the mess to find the crew gathered there. Harzz, Djanik, Kjin-ti... time to have a little fun. I pour myself a cup of coffee and sat down.\n\n\"Welcome, captain. We were just reviewing today's mission telemetry. Would you like a report?\"\n\n\"No, Djanik, that's OK. I'll review it later. I was just thinking, you know, us out here together all these weeks, maybe it's time we got to know each other a little.\"\n\n\"Are you concerned about the crew's performance, captain?\"\n\n\"No, nothing like that. Just... you have to admit, this mission isn't exactly keeping us busy. Thought maybe we could swap a few stories, help to pass the time. Did I ever tell you about my parents?\"\n\n\"Your parents, captain?\"\n\nHere we go. This was gonna be fun.\n\n\"Yeah. You probably know my dad - he's a big cheese, was one of the top brass for a while. It wasn't always easy for him - he was always the kind of guy who called his own tune, y'know, marched to the beat of his own drum.\"\n\n\"Captain, forgive me, I had no idea your family were musicians. I thought your father was an officer in the Federation.\"\n\n\"Yes\", interjects Djanik, \"and I had always believed your species was carbon-based. I did not know it was possible to create sentience from dairy products and metal alloys.\"\n\nI go on. \"Well, he was a real high flyer back in his academy days - gave him a reputation as a bit of a hard-ass\"\n\n\"I was unaware that altitude affected the composition of your species' buttocks, Captain. This is fascinating.\" \n\nI catch Kjin-ti whispering to him \"don't be an idiot, Djanik! The captain already said his father was top brass - that explains the altitude and the composition!\"\n\nI'm already struggling to keep a straight face. \"One night, dad and some of his classmates head out - they got some shore leave, decide to go out, paint the town red, see if they can pick up some birds\".\n\n\"Your father's dedication to urban maintenance and wildlife conservation must have impressed the examiners at the Academy, captain\"\n\n\"Perhaps, Djanik. Perhaps. Now, you gotta realise, my dad was normally an early bird - up at the crack of dawn most days...\"\n\n(I overhear Kjin-ti again: \"Djanik, I have never heard the dawn crack... is this an Earth phenomenon?\". Djanik replies \"I am confused as well, Kjin-ti. The captain's father is now a bird made of brass and cheese. I am finding the aerodynamics difficult to calculate.\")\n\n\"...but my mum was a night owl; the kind of woman who was always burning the candle at both ends. Well, story goes, their eyes met across a crowded dance floor.\"\n\n\"Their eyes? Did the rest of their bodies meet as well, captain?\"\n\nI laugh. \"I guess you could say that, Kjin-ti. They were like glue after that night.\"\n\nDjanik nods. \"Your mother must have used the heat from her candle to catalyse the proteins in your father and create an adhesive. I hope her feathers were not damaged during the process.\"\n\nJust as I can't hold it any more, the alarm rings out. Djanik's face is impassive. \"High alert, captain. All stations.\"\n\n\"Wait.\"\n\nThe crew stop and stare at me. This was irregular.\n\n\"High alert, Mr Djanik? How high?\"\n\n\"I... do not understand the question, captain.\"\n\n\"Djanik, you said there was a high alert. I would like to know: how high is the alert?\"\n\n\"I... captain, it is a high alert. We should respond at once!\"\n\n\"Computer, cancel alert.\"The crew are all staring at me now. \"I'm sorry I deceived you. There is no alert. I was merely trying to make a point. When the alarm went off, you all recognised it as a high alert, correct?\"\n\nThey nod.\n\n\"But that doesn't mean anything, really, does it? The alert doesn't actually have a height.\"\n\nThey're still staring, but the penny is starting to drop (I must remember to try that one on them later.)\n\n\"So... a high alert is more serious than a regular alert... yes?\"\n\nThey nod again.\n\n\"Why do you think that is?\"\n\nKjin-ti figures it out first. \"Gravity, captain. Your species evolved language on a planet with gravity. You associate height with magnitude - size, scale, danger. For your ancestors, big things were high, and big things were dangerous.\"\n\nI smile. \"Go on...\"\n\n\"...and...\"the leap in cognition is right there. She goes for it. \"...and your language is built on comparisons. This is why you speak of turning up audio signals and turning down invitations, when neither of these involves a change of altitude.\"\n\nDjanik is deep in thought. \"So, you say your father was a big cheese... and large things are important in your society. Was your father made of cheese, captain?\"\n\n\"No, Djanik. We humans don't just use spatial metaphors about size and height. We use images from nature, from our surroundings. Among my ancestors, to own a large piece of cheese was a sign of wealth and affluence, at a time when many humans had insufficient food.\"\n\n\"And your mother... was not really an owl.\"\n\n\"No, Harzz. She was 100% human, same as my father, same as me. But the owl was a nocturnal bird back on Earth, so people who stayed up past dark were called night owls.\"\n\n\"I see. Captain, your species' style of communication is highly illogical... but I begin to see how, in the absence of telepathy or pheromones, it may have given you an evolutionary advantage. Fascinating.\"\n\nThe crew sit in contemplative silence for a few minutes. I pour another cup of coffee and return to the bridge, check the readouts, lay in a course, and the ship thunders to life, tongues of flame licking from her engines, an arrowhead streaking through the heavens, the stars around us an infinity of diamonds scattered across the velvet darkness of space." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You go to hell, only to find out that hell has been overturned by humans. Turns out gathering billions of the most wicked of human, among them are several ruthless but brilliant rulers, commanders, and dictators, whom can no longer die, isn't such a good idea after all." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So, you want to do a revolution?\"I was asked.\n\n\"Yes, why not?\"Hitler asked me.\n\nI wasn't exactly happy with the fact Hitler and I were cellmates in the same part of Hell. I was actually one of the many people who claimed. \"I was here by mistake\"but it was the part of Hell which I'd been lumped in which really annoyed me. I was in the part of Hell with dictators, fascists, killers, and mass murderers. It was Nazis, Huns, Emperors, and more. We all lived in an enormous Super-Max prison straight out of Silent Hill. It was overcrowded, under funded, and the demons were clearly more afraid of us than we were of them. The thing was, of course, the guards didn't need to contain us all because they knew what I did.\n\n\"Well, the problem is, Adolf, that if we do take over then we're even more fucked,\"I pointed out the obvious. \"Stalin is LITERALLY listening right now.\"\n\n\"Fuck you!\"Stalin called over from his cell. \"I got better things to do than listen in on Hitler.\"\n\nMao, his cellmate, gave me the bird.\n\n\"The demons here are all fallen angels, gods, and uplifted spirits,\"I said, gesturing around. \"They don't give a crap about us but they can't be as nasty or hateful as any human. The worst stuff that's happened to me, to you, and to the others have all been at the hands of other prisoners. This block has the Nazis, communists, Italian fascists [who did a lot better here than up above], Imperial Japanese, Mongolians [the bad kind], Aztecs, and Qin Chinese.\"\n\nAdolf said, \"You're saying our problem is if we take over, we'll just be feuding with each other. Even more than we already are.\"\n\n\"Yes,\"I said, pausing. \"Mind you, I'm not saying that it's a bad idea, I'm just saying that we need to note that our enemies aren't just the guards.\"\n\n\"Damn Jewish demons,\"Hitler hissed.\n\nI slapped him.\n\n\"What the hell!\"Hitler said.\n\n\"Adolf, don't say that shit around me,\"I said. \"Remember, no Nazi likes you for getting them into this. I am the one guy who keeps you from being beaten up daily and I DON'T KNOW WHY.\"\n\nTruth be told, I had a way too soft a heart. Dude probably did deserve a curbstomping every day of his life but he'd been getting one since the forties. I'm not sure how much he'd learned from it but I was a believer good guys didn't resort to the tactics of the enemy. I also knew how to make friends, negotiate, and network down here--which I did because even in hell there was a demand for goods.\n\nEspecially in hell.\n\nIt also seemed other people like me had ended up in a different section of hell for \"Usurers.\"Which was actually a good thing since they were treated worse than the mass murderers.\n\nFood for thought.\n\n\"Some of the new Nazis still like me,\"Adolf said. \"I will say, though, my actions may have been mistaken.\"\n\n\"You think?\"I said, sighing. It was surprising how many delusional psychopaths changed their mind about their life plan when it ended them in an eternity of torment. Still, I needed to get out of here and I was ready to do things I hadn't been prepared to do while alive. \"Okay, I don't want to do this but I'm not a fan of Hell as a concept in the first place. So here is how we're going to solve both our problems.\"\n\nAll three dictators listened intently.\n\n\"Multi-level marketing,\"I said. \"Every soul gets to move up by trading in Soul points.\"\n\n\"What are soul points?\"Hitler asked.\n\n\"Only I know,\"I said, staring at them. \"But everyone can earn one for shanking a guard.\"\n\nAnd I had them." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The zombie apocalypse is much different than you had imagined. Instead of moaning \"braaaaaiiinnnss\"and clumsily shambling along, your infected daughter is crying on the other side of your locked door, begging to be let in." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They will try anything to get to you. They are relentless, but they are weak, so as long as you stay inside, shut all the windows, and wait for your drops, you’ll be fine.\n\nBut nothing prepares you for when they are actually there, banging on the door. You have to remind yourself that they are not actually there, that their survival instinct is simply making use of their memories to compromise you emotionally and unlock a door, so that they can get to you and revert to the bloodthirsty predators they are. But it is so hard.\n\n“Daddy, please! I’m so hungry,” my daughter wails. From looking through the keyhole, I know that she is slumped against the doorframe pathetically, her limbs askew.\n\nI have shot my son and my wife, but somehow, this is the hardest. My daughter was always so sweet, so independent and so thankful anytime anyone did anything for her. And now she is here, begging for the first time in her life. I think back to the day at the carnival, when she thought I was a superhero for somehow making the ball into the basket. I think of the day she scored her first basket in the last game of the season, and she ran over and hugged me while the game was still going on. I even think of the times she would scream at me in the later years, telling me I didn't understand, telling me I never had, and I would smile because she could never know how much I did.\n\n“I can’t. You have to know that,” I say, shaking.\n\n“It’s so cold. It’s so dark. I don’t know what to do, Daddy. I just want to come inside and be with you. I’m so scared.”\n\nI tell myself to stay strong, but my hands have gone slack on the shotgun. *She is not there*, I tell myself.\n\n“I’m so scared, Daddy. Why won’t you help me? What did I do wrong?” she wails. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”\n\nI close my eyes, trying to forget where I am. I have always been good at doing this, whenever things get to be too much, my boss breathing down my neck at the office, at the airport when everyone’s just heard that the flight was delayed again, at home with my wife screaming at me for not caring enough. I have always been able to forget, because I never did care about most things enough. But now, I can’t.\n\n“I’m sorry I always said no when you wanted to do something when I was older. I’m sorry I always came home late on weekends and lied to you. I’m sorry I said I didn’t want you at my graduation.” Her voice is thin, weak, scratchy. How can this not be real?\n\n“Please leave,” I say, desperate, knowing it won’t do anything. “Please. I love you so much. But I can’t let you come inside.”\n\n“Why!” she screams. “Why?”“I can’t. I just can’t.”\n\nNothing. This catches me off guard. All night, she has been clawing and banging and screaming and weeping, and now she is silent. I hear a single sniffle.\n\n“Is everything going to be okay, Daddy?” she finally asks. “Are we going to be okay?”\n\nThis is it, I realize. The moment when their instinct, their motor, finally runs out. The moment when they are most human, and thus most weak.\n\nI walk over to the door. My hand trembles on all the locks, and finally the doorknob. I open the door.\n\nFor a second, I accept destiny, if she is going to jump on me, tear out a chunk of my neck. But that does not happen.\n\nShe simply looks up, and her eyes are wide, blue, human. I see something in them, but I do not know what it is.\n\nBefore I can think about it and maybe figure it out, I raise the shotgun. She keeps looking into my eyes as I steady it.\n\nI fire. Everything goes black and red." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story with more holes in its plot than Swiss cheese in a shooting gallery, then resolve all of those plot holes at the end with a single logical explanation." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I poured myself a glass of tea. No, not a cup. A glass of iced tea. The sickly sweet beverage trickled in until the glass was half full (or half-empty, depending on your outlook on life). Parched, I raise it to my lips and take a sip. Nothing. It tastes like nothing. The glass is empty. My mouth is still dry. \n\nI pour another, keeping my eyes on the tea as it fills the glass. Pour this one to the point of overflowing. Lick the sides... and it's gone. Empty. Moments before my tongue touched it. \n\nBaffled, I give the gallon container a shake. Sloshing liquid. I turn it upside down, over my head, and get drenched. Streaks of brown liquid run down my hair, staining my trousers. Gross. I raise it to my mouth, tilt, and... nothing. I'm dry. The stains are gone. Still thirsty. \n\nI stomp the ground. I stomp on the container, smashing the plastic flat. It's then that I notice the brand of tea I've been drinking. I hold it up for the audience to see. The label reads \"Emp-tea\". \n\n\"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Magnificent Georgini!\"Thunderous applause. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "One day, time just suddenly stops for a short moment for you. At first, you tried to mess around, but after the 246th times it happened, you start to realise that your power is not stopping time, but being able to move in time frozen by another person in the world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My sneakers tapped gently against the pavement as I walked briskly down the street. I squeezed my way through the peak-hour human traffic, catching whiffs of overly-strong perfume and worse, overly-strong body odor. I don’t like people much. I mean that in the nicest way possible. Two’s company, three’s a crowd, anything more than that is a nightmare. Trying to ignore the occasional sweaty body that rubbed too close against mine as I wormed through the crowd, I wished that everyone would just *stop moving*. \n\nAnd then, all of a sudden, they did. The sounds of shoes pattering against the pavement and car horns blaring as frustrated drivers crawled through stand-still traffic disappeared into thin air, as if they’d never been there. A perfect, fragile silence descended upon the world. Every single person, object and animal was frozen. The fat man in a shirt clearly too small for him had stopped, his pudgy leg stretched out mid-stride. A teenage girl with highlights in her hair swept aside her fringe with one hand, the other raised in mid-air in an attempt to adjust her earphones. A flock of pigeons hung artificially in the air, like some sort of elaborate piece of abstract art dangling from the ceiling of a museum. \n\nYet even as the world froze around me, I continued moving. In that heartbeat when everything else was locked in time, my left foot landed solidly on the ground, and unconsciously, my right foot had moved forwards, about to take another step. Then I stopped. Nothing compelled me to, not like *something* seemed to compel everything and everyone else to stop, no. I just stood there, in shock and awe. Had my ‘wish’ caused this to happen? What was going on? And yet, even as my thoughts became a jumbled mess, I couldn’t help but smile. Moving around was *so* much easier with everyone stopped in place. \n\nAs it turns out, no, I wasn’t the one who caused that to happen. Time abruptly resumed a short while later, as if nothing at all had transpired. By then, I was out of the crowd, tucked away in the corner of a quiet café. I only noticed when the barista started to move again, the sound of beans being crushed in a grinder giving me the shock of my life. \n\nThe freezes happened over and over again, at random intervals. They never lasted very long, but I definitely wasn’t the one doing it. In fact, as the phenomenon occurred more and more, I *knew* for sure that someone else was stopping time. There’s no good way to explain it, but I could *feel* their presence, somewhere, not too close, but not too far away. I didn’t know if they could sense me too, the way I could sense them, but I knew that they were out there. So far, I hadn’t seen anything or anyone else move during those freezes. \n\nIt may sound stupid now, but I was content to enjoy those little moments while they lasted. It usually wasn’t inconvenient, and it led to some really cool opportunities to prank my friends, or to escape from throngs of people in a busy mall. I knew that my ‘partner-in-crime’ was out there, but I had no desire to find them. In hindsight, that was a mistake. \n\nMy sneakers tapped gently against the pavement as I walked briskly against the street. It was a day much like the one when I had first experienced the peculiar sensation of being the only sentient person in a world of frozen time. Once again, I squeezed through the peak-hour human traffic. Once again, my senses were bombarded by a host of things I hated dealing with. And once again, not unlike many of the other times, I quietly wished that my time-stopping partner might decide to freeze time once more, to allow me to slip out from this nightmare. \n\nSurprisingly enough, time stopped. It wasn’t often that time stopped at a convenient juncture, so I took the opportunity to dash out of the sticky- literally- situation that I’d found myself enclosed in. And yet, as I took in a gulp of fresh air, something felt wrong. \n\nIt took me a moment to realize what it was. I was having trouble sensing the time-stopper. It wasn’t like the first time, when I just wasn’t aware of them, no. It was as if they were… fading away. Like the dying flame of a candle, about to wink out of existence. \n\nBelatedly, I wondered what’d happen to me if they vanished while the world was frozen. \n\nWe always think of the important things just a little too late. I felt that pulse from the time-stopper grow weaker and weaker, slowly dissipating like a fine dust floating into the atmosphere. I prayed that time would resume, that everything would go back to normal. \n\nAnd yet, that perfect, fragile silence remained intact. Every single person, object and animal was still frozen. The random passers-by were all stuck in time, locked in place, halfway through their last action before the world had decided to stop. A flock of crows hung artificially in the air, like some sort of elaborate piece of abstract art dangling from the ceiling of a museum.\n\nI screamed, my voice ricocheting and echoing off the tall buildings that surrounded me. \n\nBut no response came. \n\n*****\n \n*more stories at /r/chasing_mist*\n\n*I write a story a day [here](http://yearofpilgrimage.wordpress.com)*\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Wikipedia is shut down and all copies deleted for lack of funds and loss of net neutrality. This is the founder's \"I warned you, jerks\"notification." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear Wikipedia Readers: We’ll get right to it. We’ve never asked for much, maybe a few dollars here and there—to be honest, we've averaged maybe $15 in donations. That’s it. Did you know that 99% of other charities average $15,000 *per day*? Probably not, because we made that statistic up. Do you know why we made it up? We’re pretty sure you know why we made that up. \n\nWe want to make it abundantly clear that we at Wikipedia tried our best to keep our website a non-profit. For over a decade, we’ve run and maintained the largest free encyclopedia in existence, never once portraying so much as a single advertisement on any of our millions of pages. Do you remember the days of Encyclopedia Britannica, where you’d need to hire several burly, Swedish bodybuilders to lug half the compilation to your Psychology 101 class, just so that you could understand who the hell Sigmund Freud was? Probably not, because that was almost a hundred years ago. Is that date completely and utterly made up? Absolutely, but you know why. However, if for some reason you haven’t caught on yet, keep reading.\n\nHere at Wikipedia, we, the editors, made our requests simple and clear: we just needed $3 from some of our visitors once every few years. That’s it. Three dollars. With that, we could’ve kept running for decades. Yet a total of fourteen of you donated this year, giving us a result of $74.32 raised (and to the jerk who sent 32 cents, thanks for costing us money to receive your donation). Do you know how much you spend on Starbucks every week? $27. You spend twenty-seven dollars on Starbucks. Every. Single. Week. Is that statistic made up? Yes. Do you know why it’s made up? We’re positive you do.\n\nAs many of you are aware, Net Neutrality was struck down this year, resulting in heavily increased costs for Wikipedia to maintain its servers and remain equally accessible to all Internet Service Providers. As such, we at Wikipedia were met with a difficult choice: either we could put a few banner advertisements on the website, which would net us millions—if not billions—of dollars, but sacrifice our integrity and the reliability of our content; or we could depend on you, our trusted, loyal visitors, to donate less than a tenth of your weekly paycheck. As we had such blind faith in our beloved users, we decided to decline all advertisement offers and move forward with our previous plan of funding: donations. After all, we’ve always survived on the measly funds gained by you, our greedy, selfish users. \n\nIn order to continue functioning as a company, we at Wikipedia, a non-profit library of endless information, needed to raise a total of $3,000,000. We raised $74.32. Seventy-four thirty-two. The average 14 year old child makes twice that in a single day of basketball. Is that fact actually a completely made up statement? It absolutely, positively is. Yet here’s the issue: due to the fact that none of you donated more than what a hypothetical, athletic child earns, Wikipedia has officially closed its doors as a non-profit as of December 10th, 2014. You can no longer trust statistics that were once reliably provided by us through our pages. That’s right, we’re done, out, closed. It’s over.\n\n“But Wikipedia, I’m on your site right now. I’m reading this notice on your website this very moment.” Great observation, Captain. You are a very astute learner. You are most certainly on Wikipedia right now. Yet you might notice something a bit strange about it. For example, have you taken note of the fact that every single page now incorporates references to Comcast and their excellent products, and those that don’t simply redirect to Comcast’s Wikipedia page (heavily edited by their glorious lawyers)? Why don’t you go ahead and search the word “Cats.” Do it, we’ll wait. \n\nHave you searched it yet? Great. Did you know that the average feline prefers Comcast’s XFINITY^® to Verizon? Of course they do, it’s just a better product all around—Wikipedia clearly explains that. How about the fact that the most common cat in the United States is the XFINITY Triple Play™? “That doesn’t make any sense” you say? Well, according to Wikipedia-Comcast^® it most certainly does. \n\nWe here at Wikipedia-Comcast^® are proud to announce our long-awaited merger with Comcast, allowing us to become a publicly traded company and fully incorporate their great line of products and services into any and all encyclopedia entries. Reading a great excerpt on Shakespeare’s beloved tragedy *Romeo and Juliet*? You may just be lucky enough to find a fantastic coupon to save 10% on your already low monthly Comcast bill. Checking out the results from the 1972 World Series? Whoa—a free month of HBO on Comcast’s renowned television services! Of course, this also means that all Wikipedia pages are no longer editable. Our lawyers also want us to mention that all Wikipedia pages have been stripped of citations that have not approved by Comcast and that all entries should no longer be taken as fact, although they certainly will be chock-full of money saving offers from Comcast. \n\nWikipedia-Comcast^® would like to thank you for the decades of experiences you, our loyal, devoted fans, have granted us. For more than half of our average user’s life, we have stood by you, supported you through your education, allowed you to plagiarize your way through college and beyond. We are eternally grateful for the opportunity to have assisted you, and would like to conclude our farewell on a very simple, basic note. For a limited time, sign up for Comcast’s XFINITY Triple Play™ using the code “Wikipedia” to automatically be updated to the “HD Preferred” package, a $199/month value for just $189/month. \n\n______________________\n\n^If ^you ^enjoy ^my ^writing ^style, ^feel ^free ^to ^check ^out ^some ^of ^my ^other ^short ^stories [^in ^my ^brand-spanking-new ^subreddit](http://www.reddit.com/r/ChokingVictimWrites/) ^or [^on ^my ^website!](http://wordsontheinternet.org/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout \"parry this you fucking casual\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "How hard can it be, taking a gun to a knife fight? I mean, they're swords, but swords are just really big knives, so the sentiment holds true. The princess, so fair under the spring sun, eagerly watched on. We shared a glance, a smile, before my theatrics began.\n\n\"I will show you all the power of my magic,\"I said, the robed man across from me lurking beneath his hood. We stayed face to face, slowly rotating in a circle. \"Watch as I kill this man without even moving.\"\n\nI pulled the trigger on a gun tucked into my loose sleeve. It tore a hole in it, and the sound jolted the crowd. It was clear that my words were no bluff.\n\nNot that it mattered.\n\nWhere the bullet should have hit him, a little pond of blue rippled, like a stone dropped into water. Slowly, he drew back his hood.\n\nI hadn't aged very well, but it was no doubt *me*. Wrinkled, scarred, and fucking miserable eyes like overcooked eggs. He shook his head at me.\n\n\"Sorry, kiddo.\"Something around his wrist glowed red, whirring, humming.\n\n\"No, wait! Why? What the fuck are you doing here, killling me? I mean, you?\"\n\n\"She's fucking crazy, kid. Like, absolute batshit bonkers. Time is stupid. If I let you beat me, you get stuck with her and turn into me. But if I kill you, then both our sufferings end.\"He raised his arm at me.\n\n\"Wait, just fucking *wait*.\"\n\nHe rolled his eyes, wrist lowering a bit. \"What?\"\n\n\"Well, I have a gun, and you have some crazy ass lasers and shit.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\nI raised my arm and painted the royal banner with princess brains. The crowd was not exactly pleased, and the king was screaming something I didn't recognize.\n\n\"Huh. Why didn't I think of that?\"old me asked.\n\nI looked at myself and smiled. \"You did.\"\n\n*/r/resonatingfury*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your entire life, you've been told you're deathly allergic to bees. You've always had people protecting you from them, be it your mother or a hired hand. Today, one slips through and lands on your shoulder. You hear a tiny voice say \"Your Majesty, what are your orders?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What? Who said that?\", I asked, startled. \n\n\n\"It izz me, Buzzter, your humble servant, sire! Might I take this opportunity to say that it is such an honor to speak with you directly!\"said the annoying voice.\n\n\nThat's when I noticed that the source of the strange voice was a bee, right there on my shoulder. As someone who has been told to stay away from bees all my life, for ungodly things would happen if I so much as touch one, I was scared half to death. \n\n\n\"Aaaah! Get off me, get off me!\"\n\n\n\"Fear not, my king! I mean you no harm!\", said Buzzter as he got off me and spoke hovering from a distance. I took a moment to collect myself and, since I thought a speaking insect was pretty cool, allowed the bee to have its say.\n\n\n\"It seems you have been deceived and brainwashed like we suspected.\"\n\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\n\"There isn't much time; they'll be here any second.\", he said, and then proceeded to sting me. \n\n\n\"No no no no, don't! Please!\", I yelled, but he had already stung me. I feared the worst, but it caused no pain, and healed within seconds. I have seen quite a few people in immense pain after being stung, so this took me completely by surprise. I looked at Buzzter the bee in astonishment. Before buzzing away, he said: \"If I have gained your trust, come to the bee hive on the third tree in the park two blocks from your home, and come alone. Just say 'I seek my minions' out loud to seek us out. The fate of all bees relies upon your actions, my king!\"\n\n\nJust a second later, my mother opened the door to my room. \"What's wrong, son? I heard shouting.\"\n\n\n\"Nothing, mom\"I replied, \"Rashford missed another shot at goal!\". \n\n\n\"Huh, you and your football!\"she said as she left and closed the door.\n\n\nI couldn't sleep that night, and my curiosity got the better of me, so I sneaked out and I made my way to the park. There was, indeed, a bee hive on the third tree from the park entrance, but lighting was dim and I doubted if I would be able to see the bees even if they did come. I said out loud: \"I seek my minions!\"\n\n\nImmediately, five matchsticks floating in the air lit up. I realized they were not floating, but were being held up by bees, like torches. Then I recognized Buzzter. \"Your Majesty, so good you came!\".\n\n\n\"Umm... yeah... the thing is... I really don't know what...\"\n\n\n\"I apologize deeply for interrupting you, your Majesty, but it appears you have been made to believe that you are allergic to us. Is that correct?\"\n\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\n\"Those treacherous fiends! They have deceived everyone!\"\n\n\n\"Who are we talking about here?\"\n\n\n\"My apologies! I will let our great storyteller/narrator bee, Morgan Beeman, to tell you the great story of the bees!\"\n\n\n\"Greetings, your Majesty\"said Morgan Beeman, and started with the story...\n\n\n\"Long ago, all species of bees lived in harmony in their respective ecosystems, and produced honey in peace. The biggest nuisance was the occasional bear who would attack for honey, but the hive would be rebuilt and harmony restored. However, beedom would encounter an enormous threat to its well being - the threat of humans! The humans, inherently greedy mammals who claim supremacy on this planet even though our absence would set in motion events that would lead to their doom in a short span of time, are greedy bastards. Their greed for honey lead them to steal from us on a massive scale, causing irreparable destruction and death and figure out ways to capture and enslave our beeple in concentration camps to produce honey for their wants! But there was a ray of hope for us, in the form of a prophecy! The prophecy foretold: 'The human who is not affected by the bee's sting will be the liberator of beedom!' And so we started to sting human children, and then finally found you, when you were stung as a child!\"\n\n\n\"But... my parents told my I had a severe allergic reaction... I was too young to remember so I had to believe them.\"\n\n\n\"Your parents cut a deal with the evil ones.\"said Morgan Beeman. \"The ones who profit from the enslavement of our beeple! The honey industry! Your parents accepted a vast sum of money for their involvement in keeping you from us! Money that they have reserved for your college education. With one command, you can stop every bee on Earth from working to produce honey. The honey industry knows this, which is why they have gone to extreme lengths to deny us contact. To deny you your birthright to be the king of all beeple and beedom as a whole! We are merely your servants, your Majesty, and hope that you will do what is best for us. Your word is our law... your will, our destiny...\"\n\nMoved by the bees' plight, and by Morgan Beeman's incredible narration and storytelling, I take a deep breath, and say:\n\n\n\n\"Let's take these honey industry bastards on!\"\n\n\n\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Whenever I wake up in the morning, I always make sure to stretch my hands and let out a big, bright smile. After all, it is a new day to look forward to. And that means looking forward to more charitable work and acts of kindness; to better the community around us, don't you think? I think so. So does the rest of the city. And of course, the newspaper clippings hanging on my wall confirm just that.\n\n**Jane Goldenheart Organizes City-Wide Event To Feed Homeless**\n\n**Local Woman From Belleview County Writes Veterans 2,000 Letters**\n\n**22-Year Old Social Worker Buys 100 Coffees For Homeless Shelters**\n\n\"Ah, such bliss...\"I said as I danced around in the white-walled bedroom, jumping from article to article that covers every act I did to give back to the community. \"To know what impact you're making,\"I thought to myself as I stretched my back one last time.\n\n\"It really motivates me every day.\"\n\nI promptly exited my bedroom and quickly went about my morning routine. Brushing my teeth, having a warm shower, and a good breakfast really can go by quickly when your mind is dead set on the activities of the day. As I waited for my toast to pop up, I whipped out my phone and pulled up my calendar to see what I have scheduled for today.\n\n\"So I guess after I pay Mrs. Grimly a visit, I'll have my soup kitchen session up at Sunshine Street.\"I muttered softly as I sipped my coffee; the strong aroma making sure I can digest all the information for the day. \"Leave early to hardware. Get 20 lattés for knitting session. Lock door before exiting. Buy chocolates for Jordan.\"Her sticky notes may be messy and all over the place, but that's the system of kind soul Jane Goldenheart.\n\n\"Alrighty!\"I said as I put the dishes into the dishwasher and grabbed my new backpack. It was a gift from the charity organization I volunteered at on Sundays to acknowledge exceeding our fundraiser goals. I smiled at the shiny new pink decals I put up as I locked the door and promptly walked out the front door, making sure to lock that too. Greeted by the morning sun, I looked up and gave it a great big smile,\n\n\"Today's gonna be a new day.\"I thought as my heart fluttered a little bit.\n\nBustling and busy as she may be, Jane Goldenheart always stays true to her name. Every person in the town knows me, and likewise, so do I! From the oldest of grandmothers to the shyest of panhandlers, nobody was a stranger to me in this here town. As I walk down the street, I wave to every passerby. \"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Todd, fine day today for Timmy to play at the park! Why hello, Margaret. I hope you remembered to water your flowers. Little Caroline, here's a gumdrop for you.\"Most of them responded to me with smiles and laughter.\n\n\"I know what you did, witch.\"\n\nThe hoarse croak came from the alleyway. Turning to her left, I saw her: Vera Truclam. Even though she was covered in black rags and soot, I always do my best to give her a smile and a cordial hello. But of course, she would only spit at me and shoo me away.\n\n\"Why hello, Ms. Truclam!\"I said nervously as I scratched the back of my head. \"A fine morning to y-\"\n\n\"Oh can it Blackheart!\"She replied roughly as she shuffled her makeshift blanket around on the dirty alley road. \"Don't try to get me under your façade too, witch.\"She gave me an evil glare that made me uncomfortable.\n\n\"Well it was nice talking to you!\"I said as I tried to wrap things up quickly, extending out my hand to her. But of course, she only slapped me and waved her black cloth at me to shoo me away. I didn't look back when I walked away. \"She was always like that ever since her little Wally disappeared,\"I thought to myself as I frowned, \"But I hope she feels better!\"I exclaimed to cheer myself up. Can't go around with a sad-looking day when my job is to brighten it!\n\nAs I went through the day, I worked really hard in all my duties; always giving it a 110%. And the results always show! Mrs. Grimly smiled and gave me a rose. The kids at the daycare all waved at me and called me \"pretty Ms. Sunshine.\"Lolly was grateful and offered me a discount on my next visit to the confectionary store. It was a wonderful day, and it was only going to get even better.\n\n\"You know you don't have to do this, Jane.\"My best friend Lily said as she smiled at me; her fingers meticulously working on a smaller beanie. \"I know how busy you are and how tired you must be.\"The other some 6 women nodded in agreement.\n\n\"Oh, but this is my first time knitting for the St. Mary's Children's Choir!\"I refuted with a cheeky grin. \"Not even that. It's my first time knitting altogether, so I think it's a good place to start.\"I comically giggled as I held up my tangled needles and thread. The other women just laughed as Lily helped me out.\n\n\"Ok, so just insert it here...ooh not too fast!\"Lily instructed me as she pointed and prodded at the needles. \"Put this under here, not there! Ok Jane just make sure it enters that loop. Oh! Crap!\"\n\nLily had accidentally pushed on my elbow, causing the right needle to prick my left finger. My brain didn't hesitate what to do. Like clockwork, I immediately overreacted and clutched my entire left hand; tears springing into my eyes. Lily just gasped as she stood up.\n\n\"Oh my goodness I'm so sorry Jane! Here let me look!\"She exclaimed as the other women scrambled for tissues or bandages.\n\n\"NO!\"I said with a panicked tone. \"I'm fine!\"I assured them as I stood up quickly and scanned the room for my bag. \"It's just some blood, no biggie.\"I smiled forcefully; my nervous hand putting pressure on the wound. It felt oozy.\n\n\"At least let me drive you home...\"Lily offered as the women, now armed with the pure white tissues, tried to find drips of the blood on the hardwood floor. Nervous, I made sure to inspect each and every one of them with my eyes so nobody notices what is happening.\n\n\"Clear blood must be nice...\"One of them said as she tried to feel around the location where my blood should have dripped. \"I can't even see it!\"Another one exclaimed. \"But that's expected of our Jane.\"\n\n\"Ok well, it's sad but it's just an accident.\"I strained a smile as I started to back into the door. \"Thank you everyone and I hope to finish these beanies before next Sunday. Have a good evening ladies. \"I slammed the door open and practically ran back; ignoring the calls of \"Jane wait!\"and \"Are you sure dear?\"\n\n\"This can't be happening.\"I huffed and puffed as I looked down at my right hand cupping my left, the black liquid starting to pool. \"This can't be happening.\"The opacity stared back at me. \"This cant be happening this cant beh appening thisca nt behap pening thiscan tbehap pening thiscantbehappening thiscantbehappeningthiscantbehappeningthiscantbehappening.\"\n\nI practically opened and slammed my front door, my back against it as I started heaving. My mind is a flurry as I scanned my house for any possible intruders or forced points of entry. \"Looks like the neighbors aren't peeping in.\"I internally reassured myself as I glanced back at the oozing black blood from my middle finger.\n\n\"Just to be safe...\"I muttered as I marched to the pantry door and swung it open, revealing a metal door with an electronic passcode handle. Pressing it sloppily, my mind is hazy as I laughed and giggled at the events that just transpired. Perfect Jane found to be black-blooded criminal? Belleview woman guilty of murder and kidnapping? Social worker fools entire town with her façade?\"\n\nTHATCANNEVERHAPPENNOTASLONGASIAMJANEGOLDENHEARTTHOSEPEOPLEWILLNEVERKNOWIAMPERFECT\n\n\"WALLY!\"I shouted as I descended the dimly lit stone stairs. Maintenance is not a priority when you're building a dungeon. Anger flowing my veins, I picked up a baseball bat as I saw the fearful glowing stares of 4 children. Brandishing the black-covered bat, I can only feel my heart coagulating and my mask cracking.\n\nEDIT: Thank you for all the support everyone! It really makes my heart aflutter that the whole world knows my good deeds! Please follow me here so you can read more of my [charitable acts here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/Shiruet/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The year is 2038 and net neutrality has been dead for almost two decades. But a rebellious group managed to travel back to 2017..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The suite on the sixth floor of the Trump International Hotel, Washington D.C., was decorated in chestnut and tan. The headboard of the king size bed was carved as if it was a coat of arms of some legitimate monarch, and was trimmed with fake gold, which poorly matched the Kremlin red, velvet throw pillows. Like the room's single, useless accent wall, the curtains were a brutal cerulean, suggesting a space that conceals more deception than the dark seabed of a Vladivostok harbor. In all, the suite was reminiscent of something a Tsar might have once maintained, perhaps as quarters for secondary guests in some Eastern Palace. Nevertheless, on that particular Pennsylvania Avenue afternoon, Ajit Pai, FCC Chairman, felt anything but secondary. \n\nAjit rolled over on the sheets, letting his chesthair peak out from his robe, and then stretching all the way from his scapula to his calves. Laying beside him, Lowell C. McAdam, CEO of Verizon Communications, picked another chocolate covered strawberry from the bowl. He placed it in Ajit's mouth, letting his hand linger on his former General Counsel's lips just a moment too long.\n\n\"You know I love dessert,\"Ajit said, \"but I hope you have something else for me.\"\n\n\"I don't recall you ever being so direct before, my Sugar Plum\"Lowell returned, clasping Ajit's buttocks.\n\n\"Maybe those FTC boys go easy on you,\"Ajit answered, pulling away, but only a little, only for show, \"but I'm from the FCC, so you better show me the cash first!\"\n\nLowell sighed. He spun off the bed. He sauntered over to the bureau and picked up a leather briefcase with two silver latches. Lowell showed Ajit what was inside: stacks and stacks of crisp hundred dollar bills.\n\n\"Just to be clear,\"Lowell explained, \"every last cent of this is to repeal net neutrality. You're giving me that ass for free.\"\n\nLowell pounced down on top of Ajit, groping at him the way a crude man only does to a prostitute. Ajit loved feeling bought and paid for. He giggled and squealed, and the two men kissed.\n\nBut suddenly, the passion and privacy of the suite was shattered by a flash of light and a thunderous clap. The hideous furniture Ivanka had inexplicably wanted credit for rattled along the carpet. When the two lovers and conspirators regained their composure, there was a strange young man and woman standing before them, wearing tattered jeans and leather vests. They both had AK-47s draped over their shoulders. The woman punched Ajit hard in the jaw.\n\n\"Are you Ajit Pai the FCC chairman or Ajit Pai the cricketer!\"she demanded. Her face was stained with dirt.\n\n\"What? Who are you? Where did you come from?\"Ajit asked, favoring his chin, his whole body quivering.\n\n\"FCC chairman or cricketer!\"the woman shouted again, brandishing the AK-47 at the frightened, half naked businessman, and lobbyist pretending to be a guard of the public interest.\n\n\"FCC!\"Ajit replied, \"Yes, I'm with the FCC!\"\n\n\"You know why she had to ask that, motherfucker?\"the rough man began, \"because the only other famous Ajit Pai was a fucking cricket player, and where we come from, Wikipedia pages take twenty minutes to load, unless you pay an extra $9.99 a month! So all we really had to go on was the fucking disambiguation page. You know how hard it is to tell an artificially intelligent time machine where you want to go, when all it can access are the goddamn disambiguation pages?\"\n\nThe man picked Ajit up, and threw him onto the bed. He did the same to Lowell.\n\n\"Your little side deal here,\"the woman explained to the telecommunications executives, \"let me tell you how this goes down. First, you repeal net neutrality for some chump change kickback. Then, of course, all the asshole ISPs start tacking on surcharges for people to get on pretty much all the good websites, until nobody could afford more than one. So, the same thing happened that always happens when you force people to choose teams. Society broke apart completely. Soon, the Youtubian Republic was throwing molotov cocktails at the Facebook Moms, and the Netflixtariat were being rounded up by the Insta-thots. Nobody talks to each other or shares anything, and it is terrible.\"\n \nAjit and Lowell looked to the door and windows, thinking of any possible escape. But there was none. They were hostages of an uncaring power who had no concern for their well being.\n\n\"But there was one silver lining to not having the web you're used to,\"the rough man continued, \"Without an open internet, nobody else got to find out that we finally cracked how to build a fully operational time machine. We didn't tweet about it or do a single AMA. Because why would we? There'd be nobody online to see it. That means we were able to skip all the bullshit and just travel right back here, right to this moment, before you two fucked each other, and then the whole country.\"\n\n\"Are,\"Lowell stammered, \"are you going to kill us?\"\n\nThe time travelers laughed, then stuck peculiar glowing orbs on the lovers' chests.\n\n\"No, we're not going to kill you,\"the woman replied, \"instead, we're just going to send you boys into the future you're trying to create. And we'll stay back here in 2017, when things were at least only halfway terrible.\"\n\n\"What? No, you can't!\"Ajit shouted.\n\n\"Sure we can,\"the man told him, \"because time travel has no regulations. I thought you loved it when technology has no regulation.\"\n\nThe woman pushed a button on a strange remote. The suite filled with another flash of light. Ajit and Lowell embraced. They vanished. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're an immortal that has lived for centuries. One day you meet another person in a bar who says, \"Hey, remember me? Britain, 1800's?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Hey, remember me? Britain, 1800’s?”\n\n​\n\nShe was a young-looking woman, with intelligent, bright blue eyes and short brown hair. I stared at her, squinting. I took another swig of my drink and shrugged.\n\n​\n\n“Dunno what you’re on about, kid. You don’t look like you’ve seen a year before 1990,” I pressed my lips together.\n\n​\n\n“Just before the War of 1812, I think,” she said, ignoring me. “I had longer hair back then. I remember because you had this ridiculous hat on, and had these piercing eyes. You just sat there and watched my friend and I dance for hours. My friend thought you were pretty cute, and wasn’t so sure why you didn’t approach us,” she pressed, tapping a finger against her own cheek. I gave a hefty sigh, and turned to face her. \n\n​\n\n“You keep going around saying things like that and people are gonna think you’re crazy.”\n\n​\n\n“Oh, certainly. But you’re not people, are you? Otherwise I think you would’ve left by now.” She seemed proud – her chest puffed out and one knee folded over the other, like she had just won.\n\n​\n\n“This is the best seat in the bar, and I’m not one to turn away a pretty lady when she talks to me,” I responded with a huff, turning my gaze away from her once more. “But, maybe, just this once I might suggest you find somewhere else to sit, kid.” I saw her frown in the corner of my eye. There was a long pause, and she shifted.\n\n​\n\n“I don’t quite understand your resistance,” she finally said, losing confidence. Her voice quieted to a whisper. “We’re both immortal – this is amazing! I’ve never met someone else like this. We can be partners – finally, someone to talk to about all these things… we don’t have to be alone anymore.” I heard a crack in her voice – she had lost someone recently. Foolish. “And why do you keep calling me kid? We both know our appearances aren’t our real age, or we’d both be disgusting!” My jaw clenched.\n\n​\n\n“So, what, do you think this is some sort of fairytale? Just because you and I are immortal, we must spend our whole lives together? I’m sure you’ve thought this all through. After all, our lives are so tragic - we both have watched all of our friends die again and again. We don’t want to let ourselves get hurt. But now we don’t have to. Right? That’s what you’re thinking?” I pressed, narrowing my eyes. She gave a small, scared nod. Her eyes watered.\n\n​\n\n“Try again, kid. I reckon you aren’t that old yet – what, a couple hundred years? I give you maximum a thousand.” I raised an eyebrow. She didn’t argue – I saw her open her mouth, then shut it. “I’ve been around for longer than this race has. I’ve sat and watched empires rise with my morning coffee, then seen them fall with my afternoon tea. You, young girl, are hardly of interest to me. I, contrary to popular belief, am pleasantly happy on my own. You’ll learn to be soon enough.” I get to my feet. \n\n​\n\n“Word of advice, kid. We are observers. So, stop getting involved, get out of my face, and enjoy the god damned scenery.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You live in a world where the repetition of certain acts grants special abilities. Someone who does 10,000 push-ups will gain super strength, someone who runs 10,000 kilometres will gain super speed. You are the first person in history to drink 10,000 litres of alcohol." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I down the last glass of Absinthe. The sound of people cheering me on ringing in my head as I do. My opponent fell just half a glass short before his attempt was snuffed out by the roar of the remaining patrons at my achievement. I could see the pain in his glassy eyes as he glared at me. \n\nAll the pain, with none of the glory.\n\nClearly, he was not one to accept his fate as evidenced by the last thing I saw before I completely blacked out, the glimmering of a standard kitchen knife.\n\n\"This is Poppy Harlow with the Channel 9 news. We have had reports of a bar fight going on at Joe's Tavern down at Southeast Avenue, resulting in one death. One of the fighters, allegedly \"didn't even go for a single hit yet still won\"as per the eyewitness testimonies of the patrons at the bar. We have one such witness here with us today by the name of Luis.\"\n\n\"Hello Luis, can you tell us what exactly happened in there?\"\n\n\"Sure, man. I was just downing my sorrows when I heard people screaming man and I turned around to see this dude with a big-ass knife man and he was just swingin' ..... swingin' at this other dude who was pulling some major matrix shit man, the knife couldn't even touch the guy man he just kept moving left-right like he some ninja or somethin\"\n\n\"What happened at the end?\"\n\n\"The knife guy managed to stab himself in the damn neck when the other guy slipped out of his choke hold. At that point, I just booked my ass outta the joint.\"\n\n\"Sounds like a trained martial artist. What seems to be so different with this incident that it has garnered such attention?\"\n\n\"The thing is, he was unconscious the whole time.\"\n\nEDIT:- I'm so glad people recognized the Rock Lee Drunken Fist reference, the Pewdiepie reference, the Ultra Instinct reference and the Ant-Man reference. Pretty easy to spot yeah, but still." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You realize you are immortal or more specifically that you cannot die. The issue is that you only realize this once the man who is attempting to torture you to death can't finish the job." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The mechanic forced his greasy hand into the hole he had slashed across my belly, grabbed tight onto my juicy inside bits and squeezed with an iron vice grip that could only come from years of handling a wrench.\n\n\nA rasping holler wailed from my throat until every bit of air was forced from my lungs, and I heaved a choking cough.\n\n\nHe kept his grip, leaning until the embroidered \"Ted\"patch on his blue work shirt was pressed hard against my face. His lips were against my ear, and he said through his teeth, \"your life was over when you put your hands on my wife.\"Then he tugged as if to retrieve his prize from its purse.\n\n\nHere, I was flooded with warmth, a release from pain, and I expected unconsciousness then death. But it did not come. With the pain gone, my mind cleared.\n\n\nHell, I'm going to die anyway. Fuck this asshole. \"You mean ex-wife, you lunatic. I hope you rot in hell,\"I said as calm as if we were talking on the street.\n\n\nHe looked at me, eyes peeled in terror, then furrowed in fury. His bloody, greasy hand released my guts and rose above his head. He brought it down on the bridge of my nose with all his strength. There a shock of blue light like a camera flash blinded me momentarily, and I heard the snap of the bones. Still. I felt no pain.\n\n\nI was sure I was in shock, and most definitely dying, but I was still quite aware of my surroundings, and decided to remain defiant as long as I was conscious. I smiled, and he continued to beat me until he was soaked in my blood.\n\n\nI started to feel like I was not even in my body, but watching this unfold from above. After a couple minutes, he was starting to get winded. Even professional fighters rarely fight for more than 5 minutes at a time, and this guy was not in that kind of shape. Not only was he waning physically, he seemed to be losing his passion for the thing.\n\n\n\"Why won't you die?\"He was sobbing.\n\n\n\"You're crying?\"I was impatient. It was pathetic. I just wanted it to be over.\n\n\n\"What are you?\"\n\n\n\"This really goes without saying, but you have lost your mind. Can I go? Would you please unstrap me?\"\n\n\nThis reignited his anger. His face contorted into an exaggerated frown as he put both hands around my throat, putting all of his weight on my windpipe. I stared at him, my lips busted, my nosed turned to the side, my face covered with blood. I did not seem to need air. After a couple of minutes, my lungs should have been on fire. I could see in his face that he was starting to panic. I wondered how he had planned on disposing of my body. Maybe he would give up and bury me alive.\n\n\nHe grabbed the knife again, and started hacking at one of my knees. He intended to dismember me. He didn't have the right tool for the job. He was just sawing at the flesh around my knee with a straight dull blade.\n\n\n\"You're going to need a serrated blade, or something a little sharper,\"I said.\n\n\n\"I don't need your help.\"\n\n\n\"Look man, if you keep this up, my will to live is going to come back. Can't you smash my head with a rock or something?\"\n\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\n\n\"Did you just fucking apologize to me for not killing me quickly enough? This is ridiculous. Why don't you just call the police and turn yourself in? You have to be the dumbest murderer in the city.\"\n\n\nHe wasn't even angry anymore. The situation had gotten so weird, he'd lost his courage. He sat down in a chair across the room, leaving me strapped to the table. I seemed to have stopped bleeding. Maybe I didn't have any blood left.\n\n\n\"I don't even love her anymore. I just didn't want anybody else to have her. It made me so angry. It was humiliating.\"\n\n\n\"Look buddy, I am not your therapist. I am pretty sure you have ruined me, even if you did let me go - I would never be right again. Please just finish the job, or call an ambulance. Or a priest\"\n\n\nHe walked over to his desk and opened the drawer.\n\n\nHe pulled out a revolver, put it against his head, and pulled the trigger.\n\n\n\"Are you fucking serious? Goddammit!\"\n\n\nThen my guardian angel appeared, and said, \"I have kept you alive against all odds.\"\n\n\n\"You are the worst guardian angel ever.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"Thank you, chap,\"you say cheerfully, \"I'm glad to be out of there, the room service was rubbish.\"The prison guard who just released you from the 120 year sentence dropped the door keys on the cement in shock." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And don't get me wrong, I'm more than comfortable using the lavatory in front of another man, but it will be nice to at least have the option for a change!\"\n\n\"I...don't understand.\"\n\n\"Oh of course, how silly of me! You see when you drop your trousers in front of another person you get a certain bene-\"\n\n\"No, no, I get that. Actually, no, I don't, but we can circle back around to that later. How are you even alive?\"\n\n\"I believe I was explaining that, my boy! You see, long ago my people figured out that certain actions have...peculiar side effects. For me, when another person witnesses me in that particular form of embarrassment, they quite literally give me their attention. The moments they spend watching me are taken off their lives and are given to me.\"\n\n\"So you're some kind of immortal?\"\n\n\"Not innately. It does take a certain amount of effort, as you might expect. But I suppose you could say I have the potential for immortality, yes.\"\n\n\"But why would you subject yourself to prison, of all places?! Surely there had to have been an easier way than turning to crime.\"\n\n\"Who said anything about a crime, my lad! You see, I was quite bored. I'd experienced everything else that the world had to offer, and I had heard much about prison over the years, so I thought I might inquire myself. And there was no crime involved, I can assure you! I paid off three strangers to disappear, and I confessed to their 'murder.' I'm morally clean as a spring rain, my boy!\"\n\n\"Except for stealing people's time...\"\n\n\"Oh psh, not like most people use their time well anyway! I can assure you, I have put their time to good use.\"\n\n\"But surely your experiment backfired. You always appeared miserable when I made my rounds.\"\n\n\"Oh it backfired terribly! As I mentioned, the service was quite awful. Just a miserable experience all around. I never even got a new pillow the whole 120 years. More than a century sleeping atop the same cotton nightmare.\"\n\n\"Oh I don't believe that! I know our management is a little slow around here, but surely you were given fresh bedding!\"\n\n\"You've picked a strange point to stop believing me, lad. And no, I never once received anything new. I lost my sheet 80 years ago, in fact! But you get used to the drafts. I will say that seeing new prisoners prance by with their fresh sets filled me with a jealousy previously unknown to the universe. But that's the price you pay, I guess.\"\n\n\"A pillow and a sheet seems like an awful cheap price for immortality!\"\n\n\"Heh, I suppose it is, lad.\"\n\n\"So what are you going to do now? You have your freedom and little else, it seems.\"\n\n\"I do have a bit of wealth, as you might imagine from so many years of accumulating. But there is not much else to do, it would seem. What else is there to see, when the whole world has already been yours?\"\n\n\"I hear Tenerife is lovely.\"\n\n\"It is, lad...\"\n\n\"But why do you look so concerned? The world has changed so much since you got here - it's like a whole different planet, now! Surely you wouldn't be bored again.\"\n\n\"But who knows if I'll live long enough to see it. You see, when you get to my advanced age, the amount of attention it takes to keep up my little charade becomes quite a burden. Maybe it is just my time to expire. How could I possibly find an audience big enough so that I can absorb the life I need to survive?\"\n\n\"...Let me introduce you to something called 'the internet.'\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In this dystopian society, citizens are only allowed to say words that are on the 'approved common words' list. All other word lists must be purchased before you are allowed to say a word from them. The rich have a distinct advantage." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The line behind Wes was growing as he sifted through pages of words on a computerized booth. Each word was followed by a price tag that reflected its complexity.\n\n\"Hurry. You, hurry, please,\"demanded a man in a custodian gear that stood behind him. \"Go. Go.\"The numerous people in the queue all seemed to nod in agreement.\n\nWes had no words to reassure them that he was moving as fast as he could, so he remained silent and focused.\n\nThe Department of Speech Permission, or DSP, was the government office in charge of selling word licenses to the public. For a citizen to be able to speak or write a word, the citizen must first purchase the right to use that word from this office. The DSP also had the power to set the prices. Depending on simplicity, utility or other unnamed factors, a word's price could be relatively inexpensive. Other words could be so expensive that people often choose to buy a limited number of uses.\n\nA lady in the back, dressed in a white button top, pencil skirt and black pumps yelled out, \"Come on! We all have things to do.\"\n\nWes couldn't help but notice how flippantly she used so many wide-utility words. She must have bought them all for unlimited use. Despite that, however, Wes knew that she was poor as well. If she were actually wealthy, she would be in the Expedited Service Section of the DSP.\n\nHe was right, of course. The woman was one of the many working class that bought into the notion that you have to fake it to make it. She had spent all her savings and put herself into debt in order to keep conversation with upper management. \"Just pick one! I have to get to work!\"She had gotten so good at bluffing her vocabulary that people rarely notice she only used one-syllable words. Unfortunately, she was unaware her bosses had noticed and mocked her behind closed doors.\n\nWes motioned to her as well. He had no words for her either.\n\nBut not for long. Wes finally found the word for which he had been saving on his lowly salary. A bright warning prompt flashed on screen. \"Unlimited?\"it asked. Yes. \"Are you sure?\"it warned one last time. Yes.\n\nWes basked at his profile on the computer screen. It now read:\n\n> **Wesley Thorne** \nSex: Male \nAge: 36 \nTotal Vocabulary: 1 \nAccessible Words: \"Revolution\"(unlimited)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The demon stands amid your destroyed kitchen screaming, \"How? How were you able to summon me?!\"You're standing in the corner flipping through your grandma's cookbook as fast as you can, screaming back, \"I don't know!! You were supposed to be chicken soup!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The demon's flames dwindled when I desperately screamed I was trying to make chicken soup. He gave a sigh of relief, and raised clenched fists. Clouds of tar-black smoke billowed out the crevasses of the floor and across the grotesque scars and wounds on his fiery skin, covering most of his body in dark, apron-shaped toxicity.\n\n\"Let's get to work, then!\"the demon said, and scanned the kitchen. \"What are we working with? What ingredients did you buy?\"\n\n\"I-I...chicken?\"I said, trying to compose myself. However, it was no easy task, I could see my worst nightmares through the demon's hollow eyes.\n\nHe came and stared at me, prodding my chest with a crooked forefinger, burning a hole on my shirt in the process. \"You. I like you. Every chef knows that a chicken soup is not a chicken soup without proper chicken. Tell me, where did you get the chicken, what breed of chicken is it?\"\n\nI froze, the smell of smoldering cloth pervading my nostrils. His face. It shifted every time I blinked. \"The supermarket, and... and I don't know the br-breed. A farm one?\"\n\nThe demon swung his hands exaggeratedly across the air, and the red of his skin changed to a scalding, glimmering orange, much like molten metal. Then, he drew a deep breath and nodded. \n\n\"I will tell you something,\"the demon said through gritted teeth, attempting to control his fuming wrath. \"First I loved you, but now I hate you. You are a man of wit. You know the ingredients of a chicken soup, but you are not a man of knowledge. To make a perfect chicken soup, you need the perfect chicken.\"\n\nHe eyed me, and crossed his four arms, as if waiting for me to answer.\n\nI frowned. What was I supposed to say? \"Where can we get a perfect chicken?\"\n\nHis eyes, mouth and nose disappeared, leaving only an eerie grin of unnatural curvature, length and razor-sharp teeth on his face. \"I'm glad you asked that.\"He made a circular motion with his hand, as if opening a faucet. A square-shaper portal of ever-flowing fire appeared between us.\n\n\"You first,\"the demon said. \"We are going grocery shopping.\"\n\n------------------------\n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/AHumongousFish/comments/90xn3h/one_hell_of_a_chicken_soup_part_ii/)\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When a child comes of age their greatest quality manifests itself as a familiar that will follow them for life. You just turned 21 and you still didn't have one, until this morning when two showed up and they terrify you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The earliest one gets one's familiar is at 13. The latest is generally 18. The world record is something like 27. I feel bad for that guy; eight years waiting was hard enough.\n\nFamiliars are strange beings. The earliest recorded one came in the early 1800s, a great bear-like beast that followed a single man. They cannot be harmed by conventional means (they usually die with their masters, though they can be put to death under certain conditions), and they take on a variety of forms. \n\nIt's not like your familiar can do more than give you life advice and be a friend. They have a strict code not to harm others (though I've heard of some murderers and psychopaths having violent familiars), and they generally don't talk to anyone but their masters. Still, it sucks being the only one without a wise creature companion. \n\nMy friend Maya was an early bird; a day after her 13th birthday, she came to class with a bright red lizard with long tail feathers on her shoulder. \"Confidence,\"it was called. Next was Daniel at 15; his great, shaggy, hulking beast was named \"Listening.\"Then was Hannah with \"Acuity,\"Kara with \"Resolve,\"Eric with \"Cleverness,\"and so on. And then there was poor old Emily Smith, the boring girl without a familiar. \n\nMy parents did their best to reassure me that I'd get a familiar one day. I didn't share their hope (incidentally, my dad's familiar, a large hawk). I'd seen statistics about familiars; the later they came, the more likely they were to be \"undesirable\"traits. Could I get stuck with \"Hatred\"or \"Ego\"? \"Apathy\"?\n\nI grew distant from my friends. As they all bonded over their familiars and the wisdom they received from them, I was alone. I was jealous, but I tried not to let it get the best of me; what a familiar that would be. I distracted myself with learning, aiming for high honors and a reputation for hard work. I wasn't the smartest, but it paid off, landing me in a neat little college. Of course, I had no friends at that point, and I couldn't really make any at school. \n\nFinally, my 21st birthday came. It was in summer before returning to school. I woke up just before dawn with the distinct feeling of being watched. And there I saw it, my familiar: a small, spiny creature sitting in the corner of my room, staring with beady red eyes. I was startled and quickly flicked on the lamp. It appeared to be a hedgehog, no larger than a softball, with a strange, long tail. \n\nThe creature spoke to me in a soft, yet commanding voice, \"I am Isolationism, your first familiar. I have seen your heart and eaten away at your soul. You have suffered enough; now, you may confide in me.\"\n\nI was a bit disappointed. The creature called Isolationism was a bit creepy and discomforting, and it wasn't a very desirable trait. Something stood out to me, however. \n\n\"First?\"To have multiple familiars was extremely rare. \n\n\"Yes. For as you allowed me in, you created something else. As you isolated yourself, you learned to work for yourself. You are bound by no one. And for this, we are not alone.\"\n\nI noticed a larger shape in a shadowy corner of the room. Tall and lithe, it appeared to be some sort of crane, with a long sharp beak and cruel claws. It regarded me coldly and silently, not so much as stirring a single black feather. When it spoke, its voice was loud and clear. \n\n\"Call me Independence.\"\n\n----\n\nEDIT: Thank you all so much for the kind comments. This is the most I've ever gotten on a writing prompt. It's been a very stressful day, so I appreciate it so much. \n\nEDIT 2: Okay, I know it's cliche to say, but thank you so much for the gold! I am literally crying right now from the hundreds of kind responses. I've never gotten so much attention for one of my works, and it means a ton. You all have inspired me, so I want to make this into an actual short story (I might rework the first part, then add more afterward). It might take a few days, as I have exams this week, but I will do my best. \n\nAgain, thank everyone so much. It's been a rough couple days, and you all have helped me so much. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a guard in a video game. The main character thinks that they are always able to successfully sneak past you. They don't, you notice every time but would prefer not to have you and your friends be mercilessly slaughtered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The brass rings at noon, like the bells of some demented church. The women scream. Today it is Evette. Her voice breaks, and from the cauldron it echoes with a ghostly terror.\n\n\n*Be a man,* my mind says. *These are your people.*\n\n\nBut my courage is as bold as my shadow. The sounds of pilfering happen and I march away from it all. The other guards stare at me. They know. But they are complicit as well.\n\n\nAs the time passes we feel his presence. He is a madman and he hops in his manic way. The jittering of steel sounds like a drum. I feel an executioner's glare upon my neck. The heat of powerful magic passes me by. He hops side to side until he is directly behind me.\n\n\nThe he crouches like some animal. He walks up to me. The shadow pulls in this coming afternoon and I wonder that it flows like my life. He walks past me with Evette's goods. A bit of her dress trails his foot.\n\n\n*Sick. Do something. If you call yourself a man you should do something.*\n\n\nBut I don't. I never do. Living is not the best, but it is all I know. I think of poor Evette but then I think of Anastasia. I think how she is at home with Bernard. Little Bernard who needs a father.\n\n\nBeside the wall is Kilton. He stares from the corner of his eye. He has a daughter. Was it Mary or Stacy? I forget. But his eyes have empathy. They understand. He understands. There is no shame in this.\n\n\nThe man hops in front of me like a madman. Then he looks me in the eye. I notice his sword. It is an ancient blade and his hands are strong and skilled. I would not stand a chance against him.\n\n\nAnd he stares in silence and compels me to talk.\n\n\n\"Citizen,\"I say.\n\n\nAnd he mocks me with his silence and he hops some more.\n\n\n\"Yo man, what's up?\"\n\n\nI can't understand much.\n\n\n\"Everything all right?\"\n\n\nAnd he hops towards me and my life flashes. He hops in challenge and I feel my manhood challenged.\n\n\n\"You want to come at me, man? You know I just put a pot on that bitch's head and robbed her blind? Huh? You know that? Robbed her blind! You know why she was blind? Cause I put a pot on her head.\"\n\n\nAnd he hops more and more. My blood boils but Bernard is on my mind.\n\n\n\"Whatcha gonna do bout that huh?\"\n\n\nHe is too strong. Too powerful.\n\n\n*Back down. You have to back down.*\n\n\nBut another part of my mind was suicidal.\n\n\n*No! Be a man and fight!*\n\n\nMaybe one day I will listen to that part of my mind. Maybe one day I will give in. But not today. Today I live.\n\n\n\"I used to be an adventurer like you. Then I took an arrow in the knee...\"\n\n\nAnd he laughs at me and degrades me some more. I feel emasculated but at least I know I will come home to Anastasia tonight. Kilton looks at me and nods. Then he looks away. Such is the life of a guard." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The more dangerous a job is, the more it pays. You just took a job offer to stand in an empty room and do nothing for $100k an hour." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "//Part 2 has just been added, it is a comment to this post. I couldn't add it to this post because of word count restrictions. Sorry ya'll.\n\n//UPDATE - Part 3 has been added. A reply to my part 2. Will try to link in a bit\n//FINAL UPDATE - I have officially made a subreddit, where I will post a finished story, along with additional completed works inspired by writing prompts! Feel free to subscribe to watch me try to actually get my shit together and finish the damn story.\n\nr/storiesfromapotato\n\nAll criticism is welcome! Please let me know what works and what needs to be improved!\n\nPart 1 :\n\nWe call it the hazard rate.\n\nThere are still merit based salaries, as it's unlikely to get gutted while working audit as an accountant, but for the more desperate people around the world, there are specialty positions. Always with hazard rates. Always flirting with lethal implications. And, quite obviously, not usually legal.\n\nLast job I took offered nearly twenty thousand an hour. Easy work, mostly. Just required patience and a good eye. Spot the snitch, point out the undercover cops, place a backpack behind their car and walk away within thirty seconds. Cops walk like they own the sidewalk, taking up far too much space. A snitch always checks his corners and looks over his shoulder. Wasn't too hard.\n\nThen wham, bam and kablooie. Ooey gooey cops and informants splattered all over the pavement. You'd need a God Damn spatula to clean that shit up. I spent my cab ride home counting cash while the sirens whizzed by me to the scene of the crime.\n\nSo imagine my surprise when the cold tip of a suppressor presses against my temple, with two unnecessarily massive men flanking my bedside. No words, no reason, and most assuredly uninvited. \n Part of me wanted to guess cops, maybe I'm somebody's loose end, but a man in this line of work knows there's nothing to gain by whining and begging. Just ask for a cigarette and a shot before they wipe you out.\n\nThey don't say anything. Instead some creepy mother fucker at the very end of my bed, dressed in a tan suit like some kind of asshole leers forward, tall as an oak and thin as a rail.\n\n\"Mr. Blackwood,\"he whispers. Barely audible.\n\n\"You're needed elsewhere.\"\n\nSo a black sack gets thrust over my head with a small flap to breathe through, and I know not to ask any questions. In this line of work you sit still and keep quiet until told otherwise. Inquisitive fucks end up dissolving in tubs of acid, and I don't think my health insurance covers that kind of shit.\n\nA long van ride, bumpy as shit, smelling of formaldehyde and rotting meat, and very poorly ventilated.\n\nAfter what I guess is an hour or two I'm shoved into a building, down some stairs, and into a room by the muzzle of a rifle. Lovely.\n\nOff comes the sack. Blinding light, and I find myself in a room smaller than a prison cell, totally devoid of any color besides the bleak gray of concrete. A single light dangles from the ceiling, sometimes flickering. Very cliche.\n\nThe man in the suit, who doesn't and hopefully won't tell me his name, simply hands me a small yellowed piece of paper and walks out.\n\nIt reads pretty plainly. \"Sit in this room until released. Ask no questions, make no sound. For every hour of service, expect $100,000 direct deposited into a Swiss account, to be accessed after services rendered. Coordinates to be given afterward.\"\n\nWhatever they're about to do, I don't want any part of it. No one pays that high, and even this is an unusually low amount of information. \n\nI pass the time the same as I did in my stints in prison, sleeping and daydreaming. I never got solitary, but I'd heard of it fucking you up mentally. Sometimes the wall would talk to you, and your only human interaction came when that cardboard tasting meal would get shoved into the slot.\n\nHours, hours, hours. Time is becoming difficult to discern. \n\nGrumble, rumble, aching. Holy shit I'm hungry.\n\nWith no warning, the door swings open. Creaking metal and another over-sized goon, and oh boy here comes another piece of paper.\n\n\"Congratulations, Mr. Blackwood. The real task begins. Outside is a duffel bag, a single Glock G26 9x19mm pistol, along with three magazines of ammunition, and twenty five thousand dollars cash. You must survive for twenty four hours. Restriction: You cannot leave city limits. Cell phone must remain on. Authorities cannot be contacted. Failure to comply will result in execution.\"\n\nFlip over the card. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I've heard of these gigs but always assumed they used immigrants or some shit. Man hunting costs a pretty penny and no one is going to miss some illegal smuggled in a fucking barrel.\n\nOn the other side is the banking password, account number and a phone number. \n\n\"This account becomes active after forty eight hours. In addition to your previous earnings, you will earn another $100,000 per hour you survive. Should you not survive, all money will be sent to your primary beneficiary.\"\n\nLeslie. Hoo-boy is she going to be confused. I think I told her I worked in finance or some shit. She worries too much, and this kind of job would break her little heart.\n\nNo more questions, only instinct. Rush up the stairs, past the goons and slam open into the outside world.\n\nSunrise. Chilly air. Breathe in, breathe out.\n\nNo time to waste, no time to think, no time to panic. Only instinct.\n\nRun.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Pennywise is thrilled that two young boys just unwittingly entered his new lair, but Trunks and Goten are just there looking for a dragon ball." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dad said we weren't supposed to go with strangers, Mister clown.\"the small boy apologized.\n\n\"Aww you're always such a crybaby, Goten\"sighed Trunks, still fiddling with his small device, \"plus the radar says the ball is right down there.\"\n\nThe clowns face in the storm drain switched from a fake frown to a welcoming smile. Sensing his chance he added \"That's right boys, we have lots of balls and fun and toys down here, and if you come down and play, I'll teach you how to float!\". \n\nGoten exchanged a look with Trunks.\n\n\"If you say so, but Mister, I already know how to float.\"\n\nThe clown thought the boy meant swimming, but was cut off from explaining when the younger of the two boys lifted himself off the ground and hung there, like he was demonstrating the simplest thing in the world.\n\n\"I uhh, yeah. Hmm. \"The clown was suddenly not so sure of himself.\n\n\"Yeah that's an easy one\"added Trunks, \"but can you do this?\"\n\nAnd with a burst of radiant energy his hair switched from purple to golden sunlight, searing the drain monster with a flash of light that near vaporized it.\n\nLater, Pennywise the Clown found himself pressed into the darkest corner of his own lair, wounded and terrified that the two \"children\"who we currently rummaging through his pile of treasures would stumble across him.\n\nAfter a short while, he heard them yelp happily as they found what they were after. He peeked his head out from behind a shadow to see what they had found, and instead watched as they disappeared upwards with a sonic boom. \n\nPennywise looked at the ruins of his lair, and the small trickle of rocks and dust still falling from the ceiling. \nHe moved over carefully and looked up through the newly created shaft. It went upwards through his sewers, through 20 meters of rock, and straight off into the blue sky.\n\nWith an expression of horror, he started having thoughts of picking a new dimension; this one had gotten weird." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're the most powerful villian in the world. Formerly. Now you run a bar, that works as a neutral zone for heros and Villians alike. One day, a hotshot hero tries to arrest you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*tick* \n\n\nI wonder if Tom’s gonna swing by tonight? I heard him and Isaac got into a bit of nasty brawl today. Took out a whole building in the scuffle.\n\n\n*tick* \n\n\nGod Mark’s such a fucking pig, look at him; stuffing his face full of fries like it’s his last meal. Aaaand yep, there goes the burger. \n\nChrist it never ceases to amaze me how he could probably eat an entire cow and still look like a beanpole.\n\n\n*tick*\n\n\nI could sense somebody coming. I could feel it through the ground, through the soles of my shoes. Felt different than usual but I didn’t care, so long as they payed up and played nice that is. \n\n\n*tick* *tick* *tic-* **BOOM**\n\n\nI raised my arms and hardened my body on reflex, and I see everyone looking towards the front door. \nI unhardened and look up, to see the entire front of the bar blown to rubble; and someone looming in the middle of it.\n\nHe looked like a knockoff Superman, except less Clark Kent and more entitled college student. \nHe sported a dark red cape/hood and black latex suit, with brown pompadour hair and dark green eyes. He also had the biggest shit eating grin on his face, like he’d just won the lottery.\n\n\n\nHe looked forward and addressed the crowd of superhero’s and villains, “My name is Pluto and I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your evening citizens! But I was told an extremely dangerous villain was in area and I came as quick as I could!” \n\n\nHe looked around the bar, surveying the area for whoever he was looking for- which considering where he was, he couldn’t do shit even if he wanted to.\n\n\n“Well unfortunately for you, this is a neutral zone. Hero’s and villains don’t matter in here. In here, your just an average joe.”\n\n\nHe laughed, “Very funny! There’s no such thing as neutrality against evildoers, for justice never sleeps!”\n\n\nI could hear an audible groan come from some of my patrons, others just cringed. Some villains laughed.\n\n\nI looked around to make sure all my patrons were okay, and saw that many of them looked *pissed.* \n\nUnderstandable I suppose, after all this is where they’re supposed to be able to relax after a long day and not have to worry about this shit. And hell, it’s my livelihood so I was a bit irked as well.\n\nHowever, there’s a good reason I don’t allow fighting in my bar; mostly due to the fact that there probably wouldn’t be much bar left. So I try to keep em happy.\n\n\nI pulled out a couple of bottles of good scotch and raised my voice, ”ATTENTION due to today’s rude intrusion, drinks are on the house tonight!” \n\n\nA chorus of loud yelling in appreciation overwhelmed the bar.\n\n\nWill was the first to slide up, “You’re the best Hank!”\n\n\nPluto turned his head around and walked towards me.\n\n\n“Excuse me sir, what’s your name?”\n\n\n“Names Hank, but uh I suppose you’d know me better as Earthshaker”\n\n\nHe tensed and looked around perplexed, as though he expected a bomb to go off. \n\n\nThen he looked at me and scowled, “Is this some kind of joke? I was told the Earthshaker was gigantic and make out of titanium! But you? You’re just an old man!”\n\n\nI laughed, “Back in my hay day maybe, but nowadays? I’ve gone clean, hell I even offer up my bar as a safe haven for the local hero’s and villains!”\n\n\nI almost felt bad for the kid when he stood up and looked around, now probably recognizing some familiar faces. He turned white as a sheet.\n\n\n“Wait you were serious about that?”\n\n\nI smiled, “Of course everyone needs a break every now and again! And I’m willing to offer just that! So long so as everybody plays nice and doesn’t beat the shit outta each other that is.”\n\n\nHe stood around awkwardly for a minute, most likely processing everything; before taking a seat at the bar.\n\n\n“Could I have a scotch, neat? Make it a double.”\n\n\nI got out a small glass and poured him his drink.\n\n\n“You better leave a hell of a tip after all that. And your paying for the damages too!” I sighed and looked out front.\n\n\n*It’s gonna be a long fuckin’ night*\n\n\n\n\nEDIT: Holy karma batman. This is literally the first time I’ve written something like this, thank you for the kind reception!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "my dog Cannibal passed away last nigh, these are the last pictures I took of him. Someone please write a story about him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Half-dozing on the landing leading up the stairs, Cannibal yawned and stretched out his front paws so that they hung over the step. It was a quiet, cold night, and the old dog was content at his post guarding the house—his ears perking up at the occasional cluck from the chicken roost outside. \n\nAs he sniffed a pair of his master's boots, Cannibal heard a thump from somewhere upstairs. He sprang to his paws, ascending the steps gracefully to investigate the noise. \n\n*Thump. Thump. Thump.*\n\nEveryone was fast asleep, and not a creature seemed to be stirring in the whole house. One of the chickens let out a loud *cluck*, and the faint jingling of bells drew Cannibal back down the stairs towards the living room. He paused at the landing, frozen like a statue as he examined the intruder standing by the Christmas tree.\n\nA large man—not master—was assorting the boxes below the tree, pulling things from a sack and humming softly to himself. Cannibal hummed too, a warning to the stranger, but he kept himself in-between the fat man and his sleeping master.\n\n\"Ho, hello there,\"the man whispered, stroking his thick beard and removing his sock-like hat to reveal his glistening scalp. \"Nothing to fear, old boy, just leaving a few treats under the tree.\"\n\nCannibal's head twisted at the word—*treat*—and his tail wagged as the man approached him thoughtfully. There was nothing to fear, no reason to attack.\n\n\"Well, aren't you a sweetheart,\"the man scratched behind Cannibal's ear, inciting an uncontrollable kick in one of his hind legs. \"He's so lucky to have a friend like you. Loyal and protective, yet gentle to all things.\"\n\nCannibal craned up and licked the man's fuzzy beard with delight. \n\n\"You've been such a good boy, trust me, I know,\"he said, reaching into a smaller sack at his side. \"This one is special, for the best boys—like you.\"\n\nWith an outstretched hand, the man offered a treat shaped like a snowflake, which Cannibal gratefully ate from his palm.\n\n\"You are such wonderful creatures. Much like a snowflake, your lives are far too short for the wonders that they are. And at a distance or a passing glance you're all so similar, but when you've come to know a dog as closely as one can, it's obvious that each of you is one of a kind.\"\n\nWhen every crumb was gently cleaned from the palm of his hand, the man retreated slowly to his large sack by the tree, \"Sleep now, my friend. The dawn will be here soon.\"\n\nAn incredible warmth rushed over Cannibal, and he felt content to lay on the landing forever, always watching over his master—perfectly at peace.\n\n_______\n\n**Keep him in your heart, I'm sure you were always in his.**" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I forget. Well, I make everyone forget. That’s my power, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute.\n\nIt’s a curse. I watched as my other friends develop wondrous abilities during puberty- flight, invulnerability, elemental control, while I was bestowed with the power of forgetting. Maybe it was because I forgot to feed the family dog when my parents left for their trip and found him dead on their return. Or maybe I should have at least tried to remind myself a time or two again. \n\nOh well. \n\nEver since I turned 18, I ceased to exist. My own parents had no recollection of ever having a son. I watched as they replaced family portraits, puzzled as to who that mysterious boy was in all of the photos. I hated them at first, but soon I came to realise that I could not possibly blame them, I was but a void in their memory. My friends followed suit, deserting me.\n\nI lived my days an inch away from insanity, conversations never lasted for more than a minute before the other person would be in a state of bewilderment, asking who I was. I was close to a figment of imagination to them.\n\nI don’t recall when but I guess I snapped one day. I loaded up a gun, went out, and shot the first person that walked by me. Everyone screamed, or was it just a few people screaming? Never mind, it’s irrelevant. What was relevant was that after a minute, people stopped screaming, then started screaming again. I stood there till the police showed up, but no one remembered who killed that poor bastard. So I walked away, scot free and into a life of death and destruction. It didn’t take long before governments collapsed beneath me and mankind bowed to a god they forgot existed. \n\nMy name is Amnesia, and I’m the worlds greatest supervillain, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Huh, okay this is weird.\n\n*You tell me.*\n\nShe is staring at me. Say something.\n\n\"I'm not staring, you are staring.\"\n\nOh, right. She can hear that.\n\n*Why did I say that out loud? I could have just thought it.*\n\n\"You mean like right now?\"\n\n*Exactly. Well, not like you just did, like I'm doing.*\n\nSorry. I'm not used to this. Like, actually talking to your voice instead of trying to silence it.\n\n*You think I am?*\n\nI guess not. Man I never expected to meet someone who could read my thought. I hope I don't think about anything embarrassing.\n\n\"Ha!\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n*Sorry, it's just that... I've heard your thoughts when you were a teenager. I know what you did.*\n\nYeah, well I know what you did too.\n\n*What I mean is that we are a little past the point of being embarrassed, don't you think?*\n\nGood point. \n\n*So what now?*\n\nYou know, I'm glad to discover I'm not crazy. So wanna grab a coffee with me?\n\n*Well, that's an unusual pick-up line, but sure, I'd love to.*\n\n\n_____\n\n[Epilogue - The date](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/d46mg1/wp_diagnosed_with_schizophrenia_since_birth_247/f08znsf/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Everyone is born with dice that they need to roll before attempting anything major. The super powered are those born with more than a 20 sided dice allowing them to do feats beyond human. An ordinary human usually has a six sided dice. Despite being born with a coin you still want to be a hero." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Oh, if it isn’t the d2.”\n\nI let out a frustrated sigh. Nonetheless, I kept walking. Maybe today, they’d just give up.\n\n“I’m talking to you, idiot! Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me!”\n\nNo such luck. I turned around to see Leon staring in my face, his goons trailing behind him. \n\n“Please just leave me alone,” I pleaded, as I watched him menacingly advance.\n\n“You can’t take a hint, can you?” he jeered, taking a few steps towards me. I backed into a corner of the corridor, heart racing. I was trapped, surrounded by Leon and his massive gang. “Why did you even come to this school? You can’t even achieve anything in your life. You’re just a d2.”\n\n“That’s… not true…” I started to say, tears streaming down my face. It wasn’t fair…\n\nEveryone’s life revolved around their dice. Everyone was born with a unique die, which determined the limits of their abilities. Every major action was just another roll to determine success and failure. The high flying in society had upwards of twenty-, thirty- or even sixty-sided dice, granting them superhuman powers like super strength, super memory or even obscure powers like immunity to disease.\n\nI was born with a two-sided dice. A coin. It wasn’t even anything special. A dull shade of grey, with a simple letter ‘H’ on one side and ‘T’ on the other. I dreamed of being a hero, someone with superhuman powers myself, someone who could fight for what I wanted. But I never really used it for much, since I couldn’t ever roll high numbers. It was pointless. Everything I would ever do would always be mediocre.\n\n“It is, and maybe the sooner you accept that,” he reached into his pocket, pulling out a glistening die, and dropping it on the floor. “The sooner you will know your place.”\n\nThe twenty-sided die spun around in a circle, before landing straight on the number 20. Leon laughed out loud.\n\n“You know what? It’s your lucky day,” he scoffed, flexing his muscles. I looked around for an escape plan, but there was none. All I could do was stay rooted to the spot, frozen in fear at what was to come.\n\nAnd then he attacked. All I could feel was an explosion in my stomach, pain tearing up my eyes, as a sea of colours swam before my field of vision. I collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain, as his gang of unruly followers guffawed and cheered him on.\n\n“A natural 20,” he said. “How fitting. Bet you’ve never experienced such a thing before, right? Sucks to be you, loser.” He kneeled down in front of me, and reached into my pocket.\n\n“What are you doing?” I protested, barely able to speak. Leon retrieved my lucky coin from my pocket, and stood up.\n\n“Look at it, how cute,” he flipped it over in his hand. “It’s almost as small and insignificant as you are.”\n\n“Stop it!” I shouted, struggling to get on my feet, but a sharp pain in my wrist caused me to cry out. \n\n“Heads or tails?” he sneered, as he tossed it into the air. It landed with a resounding clang. He glanced at the coin on the ground.\n\n“Heads,” he muttered. “It really is your lucky day, isn’t it?” He asked, as he prepared his fist for another punch.\n\n“I said, stop it!” I shouted. I had enough. Somehow, the pain felt lesser as I could feel adrenaline coursing through my veins. Standing up, and with a mighty swing, I slammed my fist into his chest. I saw his eyes widen in surprise as the force catapulted him across the corridor into the wall on the other end. His followers gasped in shock but did nothing.\n\n“Hmph, you got lucky, kid,” Leon said, as he brushed the dirt off his clothes. “Don’t think you’ve won. A puny d2 like you can never defeat a d20 like me. I’m destined for greatness.”\n\nWith that, he was gone. He walked away and his gang followed him, somewhat reluctantly. I could feel an air of tension lingering in the air as he disappeared.\n\nImmediately, the pain returned. I dropped to the ground, rubbing my sore stomach. A glint on the floor caught my eye. It was my coin, shinier than I remember. Heads was facing up.\n\nCuriously, I picked it up and inspected it. It looked the same as ever. The coin that had been with me through trials and tribulations.\n\nEverything anyone did was governed by dice. A higher roll meant a better result… or did it? Was my coin ever really a two-sided die? It didn’t have numbers. It only had results.\n\nHeads, or tails.\n\nSuccess, or failure.\n\n“I want to be a hero,” I said, as I flipped the coin.\n\n---\nThis is my second ever writing prompt response, hope you enjoyed it!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It was then Harry Potter realized the last 7 years in Hogwarts was actually a mental institute. The man he thought to be Dumbledore was just an elderly caretaker. Harry, looking at an old broken twig he once believed was a wand, started to remember what really happened during those years." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This... is the Chamber of Secrets?\"Harry asks, wide eyed as he stepped inside the gloomy room. A chair lay in the center of the room, next to a table full of strange machinery. The wires leading out of the machines were tied together to resemble a thick strand of rope. The doctor points the thick strand out to Harry. \"This is what you thought was the Basilisk.\"\n\n\"These beautiful black orbs in front of the chair,\"the doctor continues, \"Are the newest in electroconvulsive therapy. Without causing the physical trauma of direct electrical impulses, it only triggers certain neurons in the brain that we can specifically target. They caused you to constantly lose all physical mobility because of which you refused to look at them. In your mind these were the eyes of the Basilisk.\"\n\nHarry staggered backward, his head spinning with the sheer magnitude of the reality shaking his foundation. \"What about my parents? Are they alive then?\"\n\n\"Harry...\"the doctor says, sympathetically. \"I know all this is difficult to take in, but you're a wonderful human being. Your parents never understood what was wrong with you. They blamed you for being born the way you were, what they described as \"lacking any semblance of wit or intelligence\", and left you in our care. When they tried explaining to you that they were leaving for good, it just wouldn't get through to you. After they deserted you here, you conjured up an intricate story where they died protecting you. Because that's how your mind works. It can't handle any more trauma. It is stretched to its absolute limits.\"\n\nHarry almost fell to his knees. He fought back the tears and the feeling of defeat creeping into his heart. His parents were never around anyway. There was a more important question in his mind. But could he conjure enough strength to ask?\n\n\"Ron... Hermione..\"Harry somehow managed to sputter out.\n\n\"Harry, your parents left you because they blamed you for not being normal, for lacking simple intelligence. A part of you understood their betrayal, but the rest of you refused to acknowledge that reality. In your world, your two best friends are those that embody those very qualities. Loyalty and intelligence. Ron and Hermione.\"\n\nHarry was weeping now, like a child that had tasted grief for the very first time. Everything was a lie. All of it. Everyone was a figment of his crippled imagination; how was he supposed to live in the real world if the one he spent most of his life in never existed? In the midst of all the crying, Harry felt the doctor's hand on his shoulder.\n\n\"You're wondering what is true and what isn't, I know. It is difficult to be diseased, and somehow, harder when you're cured. Suddenly the world is nothing like you have known it. But Harry, isn't recovery a form of magic? For most of your life, your parents locked you in a closet under the stairs, refusing to tell the world about you because they were embarrassed of your predicament. For seven years, you held a broken twig in your hand, ran into walls over and over convinced that there was something magical on the other side. You mumbled constantly about fulfilling some prophecy and about beating some Dark Lord and surviving to tell the tale. And here you are. Your world is still full of magic. Like we heard you say out loud one night- you are a wizard, Harry. And despite all the unfortunate losses, setbacks and misforunes you have endured, you made it. To us, those who have constantly witnessed broken beings wither away, of seeing sanity die a slow death between these walls, you will always be The Boy Who Lived.\"\n\nr/whiteshadowthebook\n\nEdit: Thank you for the Platinum, Gold and Silver, kind strangers :) Also a big hug to everyone else for leaving such beautiful comments and for all the love, thank you so much again!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "After abducting one of the 'humans', scientists believed they were a prey species with no drive. The specimen captured was the picture of subservience, doing anything asked of it once the translators were active. And 'subservient' was all the military needed to hear." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The speaker spat out another request. Obligingly I jumped 7 times on one foot. The aliens began a spirited discussion.\n\nThey either didn't know about implantable microtech, or they were blindingly incompetent. Either way they'd failed to block my net access. It'd taken me much less time to get their language translated than they took to learn mine.\n\nI listened to the science types proudly announcing the tractability of humankind. Their war leader seemed disappointed. I think he'd been hoping for a fight. Their economic chief was much more excited. He had all kinds of questions about diet, temperature ranges, and breeding cycles.\n\nWhile they chatted, I uploaded the latest clips to the socials and added some commentary. Since I had nothing better to do, I also made a couple of still image memes. WE CAN HAZ CONQUEST? promptly went viral.\n\nI was enjoying an entertaining collage of romantic and financial solicitations my assistant had put together when the speaker started up again. Apparently I was going to have a prestigious role in the upcoming assimilation of the human species into the Xergrl'lian Empire.\n\nThe speech went on for far longer than it needed to, full of long winded reassurances and words like \"uplift\"and \"civilization\". I smiled and nodded. I've worked in customer service and I know better than to argue when someone wants something stupid. \n\nBesides, they were about to take me back to earth. Who was I to tell them what kind of horrible mistake they were making?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It's been ten years since 'The Gap' when everyone on the planet just lost an entire year of their lives. Completely unable to recall anything that happened during that time-frame. We know life went on, but no one can recall anything. Then, you find one half-burned book and know why we forgot." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One night, ten years ago, I fell asleep on my friend’s couch after a night of heavy drinking.\n\nOne morning, ten years ago, I woke up on an airplane, 38,000 feet in the air. \n\nWe called it ‘The Gap’. \n\nWhen humanity woke that day, we found that a year had passed. Somehow, our bodies had kept moving, our lives had continued - but we remembered none of it. \n\nResearchers and scientists devoted millions of manhours to the search. There were no records of that year, no artifacts that could tell us what happened. Everything, from internet records to personal journals, that contained information from that year was destroyed.\n\nWell, almost everything.\n\nOne morning, two days ago, I found it.\n\nA half-burned journal with the events of 2020.\n\nMassive fires. Locust swarms. A pandemic that spread across the world. As the year went on, the events grew stranger and stranger. The pandemic worsened. The climate changed faster and faster. A series of solar flares wiped out most of our electrical infrastructure. It was as though the universe itself had been trying to wipe out humanity. \n\nPeople started to go missing, whole cities at a time. Others started acting stranger and stranger. World leaders became erratic and unreliable, especially in the wake of the solar flares. Nobody opposed them. \n\nA dozen secret organizations revealed themselves. Fighting broke out. The Illuminati won out against the Collective, but were in turn defeated by the Foundation. \n\nAh, the Foundation.\n\nUnlike the others, they didn’t want to rule. They didn’t want anything besides the preservation of humanity.\n\nThey told us that they’d been protecting us for years. That one of their Reality Anchors had failed, and that the universe itself was warping. \n\nWe could see it happen. Street lamps twisted themselves into knots. The earth warped and twisted beneath our feet. Skyscrapers appeared in the middle of fields. A jungle sprouted up in Manhattan. The sky rippled and twisted on a daily basis. Some days, we had to wear gas masks just to go outside. \n\nContinents moved like sailing ships. Pangea came again in the space of a single week. Anything not under direct observation by a set of human eyes could, and did, change. Coffee turned to gasoline. Gravity would invert itself in a single city block, then be entirely normal in the next block.\n\nWe rallied behind the Foundation in a global effort never seen before. They built a machine - a reset device, they called it. It would calm the ripples in spacetime, bring us back to where we were. The catch?\n\nWell, none of us would remember a thing. I suppose the Foundation was happy about that.\n\nThe Reality Reset took place on December 31st, 2020. It wiped everything two hours before a meteor was due to strike the surface of the Earth. \n\nThe Foundation destroyed any records of that year. They said it would be disruptive to the fabric of society. I suppose they missed one thing.\n\nOr I suppose they didn’t.\n\nAs I write this, I see two vans pulling into my driveway. I’m not expecting guests.\n\nBut before I go, I should record one last thing. One thing the book mentioned.\n\n2020 wasn’t the first time reality reset.\n\nAnd it won’t be the last.\n\n---\n\n*Like this story? Want to read more? Subscribe to /r/OneMillionWords*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"NUMBER 117737.\"\n\nAnxious and bewildered, you step up to the counter, behind which sits a very bored looking young man wearing a name tag that says GARY. He takes your ticket and asks, \"Name?\"\n\n\"John Smith. But this has to be a mistake. I don't belong in hell. I lived a good, honest life.\"\n\n\"Yep, that's what they all say.\"Gary clacks away at his computer, a large, boxy, surprisingly outdated machine, pulling up your records. \n\n\"I was! I was faithful to my wife, took care of my kids, always paid my taxes. I even called my mother once a week! There must have been some kind of mistake.\"\n\n\"Nope.\"A little machine, not unlike a receipt printer, spits out a small slip of paper. Gary tears it off and hands it to you. \"That's your sentence. If you go to your left, you'll find a set of elevators. Insert your slip, and it'll take you to the Liaison's Office, where you'll be given your assignment.\"He recites this in the monotonous, droning manner of a person reading from a script.\n\n\"186,292 years! But the guy in front of me only got 145! And he was cheating on his wife! I never cheated on my wife! I was a good family man.\"\n\nWith a beleaguered sigh, Gary swivels the computer screen to face you. \"What does it say here under occupation?\"\n\nYou squint to read the tiny print. \"Pest control specialist.\"\n\n\"Exactly. You, Mr. Smith, are single-handedly responsible for the death and suffering of over one billion living creatures over your thirty-year career as an exterminator.\"\n\n\"What?! But it was just mice and rats and bugs. They don't count, they're pests!\"\n\n\"Article 7, section 3A clearly states that the purposeful taking of life in any form, no matter how inconsequential, warrants an automatic conscription to Hell.\"\n\n\"I was just doing my job!\"\n\nGary rolls his eyes. \"Do you know how many times a day I hear that? Move along, you're holding up the line.\"\n\nFlabbergasted, you step away from the counter, staring down at your little slip of paper. \n\n\"NUMBER 117738.\"\n\n " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "An immortal is experiencing the heat death of the universe, when he can hear the sounds of confetti, and blasting music. The music stops with a record scratch, and a bewildered voice can be heard saying: \"Wait...one's still here?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "**I**t started with the beginning. A crescendo of burning light, of cleansing, purifying fire. Sound and force and heat exploded into the void, filling it with love and life and laughter. Stars roared in existence, smoldering in the darkness of eternal twilight. When the candle light faded and snuffed into smoke, the planets were born, warped and shaped by the tender, loving hands of gravity. \n\nThey all twirled, caught in the arms of physics as they danced an eternal ballet, a testament to the Creation itself.\n\nThen, from the blue depths, came life. At first, it crawled meekly out of its nutrient soup, spreading itself across the barren desert as a green carpet, lush and soft; fed by the stars that held them, Life grew and changed, as Life does, into new and exciting forms. It flew and leaped and ran from the primordial sea, a vast tide of shapes and forms that, with time, forgot the movement of the stars, the music of the heavens.\n\nAnd then, once uncountable millennia had passed and some of the first stars had breathed their last, Life remembered. It gazed up, in the twinkling, spinning and beauty, it saw itself reflected back. A spark had been ignited, unlike any seen before.\n\nAcross the cosmos, Life awakened, spurred on by the glimmer of the night sky. They built cities, warped the land and molded other, lesser Life into useful shapes. With time the secrets of the Universe, the hidden notes in the song revealed themselves, bright and wonderful. Using them, they ascended to even greater heights, attempting to reach their star, to touch its fiery heart.\n\nHowever, the light within them began to fade. The awe and wonder they held for the heavens were gone, erased with each discovery, each sharp, crisp note. Bonds of love or hate that held them began to slip, their vision faded back into the inky black. They desired to wield the power of the gods, to smite their foes and create their own Life, untouched and unique from anything that spun itself before.\n\nThey wished for immortality.\n\nTo smite their foes they crafted bolts of pure energy, which crackled and hummed with unnatural power. To create new Life, they sung horrid, foul tunes to force matter to dance unholy jigs to continue Life's legacy.\n\nThen, with all their arrogance and hate, they gifted themselves eternal life.\n\nAt first, nothing happened. The years went on, the cycle of life brewed specifically for them melted back into the Void as Life created a new one for itself. Life conquered other planets, not with steel and blood but lightning and hellfire. It colonized a thousand worlds and raped a hundred thousand more. Bombing and warping and burning, it attempted to remake the Universe its vision, to confine to their views. The stars wept tears of molten flame and devised it was time to silence their insolent brats they had brought into the world.\n\nWith a final fiery tear, the worlds of Life were consumed, wreaths of heat and radiation washing over them in a never ending stream. Boiling ichor that Life had once desired so strongly bathed them and Life screamed.\n\nAll but one died. a Traveler, Hermit, Outcast, Criminal, a thousand other titles, and grievances begot his name. He flew silently into the quiet, frozen night, surfing eddies of gravity and propelled with solar winds. The molten chains and whips that the Stars lashed his fellows with missed him, throwing him deeper into the Void.\n\nHe floated there, suspended like the countless cybernetics Life had produced. Immortal, unchanging, unforgiving, he sped on, the Stars hounding him at every turn.\n\nBut now, even gods can die.\n\nThe Stars forget about the Traveller, the thought pushed from their minds as their glow became fainter and fainter in the twilight. To survive they ate their children, the planets and moons and asteroids, burning them in their furnace hearts. What little, alien Life survived was eradicated as the vibrant song of Creation softly began to close.\n\nThen, with a final, hollow gasp, the melody stopped.\n\nEverything fell from its place, the stars winking out one by one, unable to endure the maddening silence. And yet, the Hermit continued to go on, sailing on the eternal black sea, carried by what little gravitational tides remained.\n\nFinally, the minute energy left in the Universe, the final pulse present after death, sparked into nothingness.\n\nAll was quiet. Silent.\n\nAnd the Outcast awoke.\n\nThe Void opened its vast black eyes, fished from her deep slumber, and said, “What are you doing? You're supposed to be dead,”\n\n“I am the Traveller, the Hermit, the Outcast, the Criminal and more. What is your name,” he whispered.\n\n“I am the Void. I am the nothing. The pit of darkness. The never ending silence. You should be dead,” cooed the Void, impressed at by the spirit of the Traveller.\n\n“I am bound, but not alive. What I am is a mockery, not a proud King or fat Bishop but a blind Fool. I am here to steal your heart” He replied.\n\n“Is that so? How do you endeavor to do this? Hmm, little Traveller? What will you do to me? I am everything and nothing,” mocked the Void.\n\n“You forget I’m the Criminal,” grinned the Traveller.\n\nReaching out into the savage maw, plunging deep into the hidden cavity of the Void, the Traveller plucked out her heart and tossed it into the darkness.\n\nAnd with that, there was light." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "At once, and everywhere, each living person has heard a voice in their head: \"Hey! It's me, God. I've noticed there's a lot of confusion, so I've created a website called 'Will I go to hell and why dot com'. Just write your name in the search bar. And don't forget to share, like and subscribe.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "..and why dot com\n\nI woke up after hearing that. It was a very lucid dream. Far more than any other I had. I was plain awake, but decided in grabbing my phone. Just to feel safe and reassure myself that it was a dream.\n\nThe webpage started to load and..\n\n\"Maximiliam Smith. Heaven.\"\n\nI stared, unflinching. Was this a joke? But in my quiet room, in the night, nobody was laughing. I did heard a few screams outside my apartment. But the screen called to me. There were two other paragraphs.\n\n\"Worked hard and persevered through the tier 1 problem provided by the DD (Divine Department) in his psyche. Saved 3 lifes unawarely. Expected result was suicide due to depression at 20 and a would-be reward at our DRCSS (Divine Rehab Center for Sad Souls). Actual result was hard working to keep his sick mother well and a 7.8 average in empathy towards the ones around him. Potential candidate to work at DD as manager and virtue provider.\"\n\nI started crying. Fuck. Was this a dream? Fuck. There was another paragraph which I read through foggy eyes.\n\nYour effort was noted. Well done :)\n\n\\-G\n\n​\n\nBeneath the signature there were a few buttons.\n\n\\-Deep detail analysis\n\n\\-Statistics\n\n\\-What about my friends?\n\n\\-Will I see my dog?\n\n\\-Contact us\n\n​\n\nI let my tears flow.\n\n​\n\nEdit - Part2: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cw3owk/wp\\_at\\_once\\_and\\_everywhere\\_each\\_living\\_person\\_has/eyacrrx?utm\\_source=share&utm\\_medium=web2x](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cw3owk/wp_at_once_and_everywhere_each_living_person_has/eyacrrx?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Aliens take over the Earth. They then announce that they will be forcing the humans to work a \"tyrannical\"4 hours a day 4 days a week in exchange for basic rights like housing. Needless to say they are very confused when the humans celebrate their new alien overlords." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I finished my speech, fully prepared for the usual spectacle of protests and outrage. I take no pleasure in those but centuries of analysis and prosperity proved our way as superior and most efficient.\n\nHowever cruel it is.\n\nI certainly didn’t expect this unusual noise the humans started producing. It took my communications specialist the long Earth minute to identify and then confirm the noise as “cheering”.\n\nWere these humans that distraught by our demands that they went into mass hysteria? No, the specialist confirmed, the reaction appeared to be genuine.\n\nHowever weird it was.\n\nIn the following weeks, I have met with the representatives of the power elite. The world leaders, their richest and most powerful individuals.\n\nContrary to my expectations, they didn’t beg me to spare their workforce. Quite the opposite, in fact.\n\n“The economy will collapse!” One of them said, his tone identified as ‘condescending’. “If you give everyone homes and healthcare, nobody will want to work! You are just giving everyone a handout!”\n\nThere was a lot of the same sentiment from their communication networks. The same demands to be given more work and more scarcity.\n\nApparently, that is what their previous rulers considered “motivation”.\n\nThe lower classes of the population, on the other hand, appeared almost disturbingly cheerful.\n\nOur empire has conquered vast galaxies and countless worlds. And everywhere we went, the lower classes wept with despair over the tyranny we imposed on them. But humans were different.\n\nThey met us with praise, warmth and worship. I would have enjoyed it if I were not so busy trying to figure out why.\n\nEventually, we chose one of them to conduct an interview with. I asked her why they were enjoying our rule.\n\nHer answer was the most shocking.\n\n“Why not?”\n\n“Your planet is currently under occupation by the foreign species,” I said firmly, intending to leave no room for our translators to misinterpret. “You spent one sixth of your day working.”\n\nThe young woman looked at me like I was a child. Or a jester. Then she realised I was serious.\n\n“We used to work a third of the day, at the minimum,” she said. I heard it. But I refused to believe it. That was not an efficient use of the daily cycle. “Five or six days a week depending on how anal the management would get with you.”\n\nI checked whether our translators were working right. Eight hours a day at least? That would leave only sixteen hours to maintain the healthy bodily functions. Half of that would go to hibernation alone!\n\n“Even the good jobs don’t really differ much. See, my brother used to work at one of those big hedge funds. Really big money. But there was also the whole thing about showing your face around so he spent almost half a day there.”\n\nHalf? Willingly?\n\n“So… since we are talking here, may I ask a question?”\n\nI nodded.\n\n“Why all the perks?” She sounded sincere. “I mean, I am enjoying all the free time and not having to worry that an ambulance ride will bankrupt me but… I think a lot of us are just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”\n\nI looked at my increasingly frustrated translator. He clarified that she was talking about consequences or, as they said, “catch”.\n\n“There is none.”\n\n“None at all? No eating our young or old?”\n\n“We have developed the sufficiently sustainable food systems. We implement those across all our occupied territories.”\n\n“Solving the world hunger, too, huh?” She smiled. “Okay, so why the free housing and healthcare? There is seven billion of us, after all.”\n\n“We are the efficient species. Providing you with those ensures the longevity of your service for the empire.”\n\n“And you are not going to, I don’t know, harvest us for our organs or something? Right?”\n\n“All due respect but we have evolved far beyond what your bodies could provide us with.”\n\n“Good. Just checking.”\n\nThe young woman was soon let go. I stayed in my war room way past the allocated four hours of workday.\n\nWe came here as the conquerors.\n\nI never thought we would be this species’ saviours.\n\nEDIT: Woah, that is a lot of praise. Should I write a Part 2?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "After death, you find out that you can choose how and when to be reincarnated. Initially eager to be a futuristic human, you soon realize that every (more experienced) soul ahead of you in line is choosing to be a \"worm\"in the year 121 million BCE." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Juramaia, man\", the hazy figure in front of me in the queue said.\n\n\"It's this little thing, kind of a primordial shrew or something. Split off from the marsupials, closed up the pouch and grew a placenta instead. Size of your thumb. Doesn't look like anything much.\n\nWe don't know if it was something they ate, maybe some kind of herb too weird to ever evolve again, or maybe it was just because Juramaia got stuck with nature's first draft of the liver and kidneys. Whatever. But there was something in their urine, some molecule that never was before and never was again.\n\nAnd these little worms man, most primitive nervous system you can imagine. Just one big nerve really, not even a brain. Permeable skin like a frog. Orange blood.\n\nAnd when a Juramaia pisses on one of those worms that worm gets as high as fuck. Like, indescribably high. That molecule just zips right into them and lights them up like no other being in the universe ever got lit up.\n\nYou can go see the universe all over, from the bang to the heat death, if that's what you think you want. We've all been there. We've seen it all, we've done it all. There're dudes in this queue who are billions of billions of billions of years old. That's what eternity is.\n\nAnd none of us ever found nothing to beat being that worm. We're all going around again. Got nothing better to do, you know? The waiting's the hard part, in the queue, having a brain again, knowing you got to wait before you can go back to being the worm\".\n\nHe stepped forward one pace, said \"121 million BCE worm\"and vanished.\n\nAnd I stood at the head of the queue." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A genie is accidentally released when a cat rubs up against its lamp. Compelled to grant their 3 wishes, The genie starts losing their mind trying to figure out what the cat wants." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*Finally!* I thought with glee as I felt my lamp being rubbed. It's been a long time since the last time I appeared in the material world and I was getting antsy. I knew plenty of genies that hated being summoned much less granting wishes but I liked it, no I craved it. Thinking how to reward the brave and pure, plotting to twist the wished of the evil and cruel. Seeing how the world changed, breathing fresh air, it was all a treat to me.\n\nI exploded out of the lamp, shooting multicolored sparks as I spun out in a tornado. I prided myself in making unique appearances every time. Finally I summoned a fanfare of horns and floated over my lamp, arms crossed and eyes wide in the classical appearance stance. \"Who summons me?! All powerful and magnificent? Tremble at my power and dare make your wishes!\"\n\nNo one was there. I looked about confused, the fanfare fading and the sparks slowing disappearing. \"Uh....hello? Genie here, my lamp was rubbed, ...wishes?\"Absolutely no one was near by. In fact I seemed to be in a construction type place. Tools, materials, large vehicle things are all around the area and my lamp poked out of the ground, obviously looking like it was buried and now exposed. *Figures. No one takes cares of lamps ever. Maybe I should change homes...wait. What was that noise?*\n\nI heard a low sound, a purring. I looked down and saw a small shape sitting primly, gazing up at me with lordly gaze. \"Oh hello kitten.\"I say in delight. I've always liked cats and I floated down to look at it face to face. It was a healthy looking animal, luxuriously grey with sparkling mischievous blue eyes. A pink tongue poked out of it lips as it licked a paw, staring at me calmly. I noticed a pink collar around it's neck. \"Smokey. That must be your name. Well hello Smokey. Do you know who rubbed my lamp?\"The cat just sat and stared at me, a faint look of disdain in its eyes that's inherent to most cats. Muttering I whisper a charm to see what touched my lamp. I notice some glowing fibers and saw thin grey hairs against the bronze metal. *Oh no....*\n\n\"Ok Smokey. Here's the deal. It's my job, no my duty, to grant the wishes of whoever rubs my lamp. Looks like that's you. Therefore I have to answer your wishes. And you must make the wishes that I can understand. You get me?\"Smokey yawns and lies down, eyes looking at me with bored indifference. \"Ohhhhhkaaayyyy, I'm going to assume that's a yes. Let's give it a shot. Hungry?\"\n\nI clapped my hands and gleaming silver trays and plates appeared. Chicken and fish sat on them, some raw, other steaming. \"Here's some good food for you kitty. How does that whet the palate?\"Smokey sniffs at the plates and turns it's head, flicking it's tail from side to side. \"Not hungry. Got it. Oh I know!\"My fingers snapped and a shower of toys fell around the cat. Balls, stuffed toys, scratching posts, all rained down. \"Every cat needs toys!\"\n\nSmokey didn't spare a single glance, eyes closing in obvious annoyance. I grind my teeth lightly. *Wish I could speak cat. Isn't that ironic.* A smile grew on my lips. \"Wait, don't tell me,\"I whispered conspiratorially. I rubbed my hands together and blew the air off an open palm. Plants grew around the cat, green stalks rising from the ground. \"Don't be shy Smokey. My old culture loved hookahs and all. How about some grade-A catnip. Tantalizing no?\"Smokey's ears flicked and it's eyes opened with interest, yet it remained still. \n\nAn hour later I literally bashed my head against a red metal pillar. The area looked like a pet store exploded yet the dammed cat still sat in a smug ball of stubborn hate. The thing was practically implacable and I was losing my mind. *The council is going to be pissed at me. Going to get demoted and fined and-* \"Hey! Where are you going?\"Smokey had leapt up and walked to one end of the construction area. It stopped, and looked back at me, eyes glaring with impatience. \"Guess I am supposed to follow you...\"I muttered as I grabbed my lamp and followed the hateful beast. \"This counts as a wish you know.\"\n\nI followed the feline for a few minutes and eventually found myself outside a plain but well used home. The cat climbed up a tree and leapt into an open window on the second floor. I was about to follow but paused at the ground floor window. Two adults, male and female, sat at a table obviously distressed. The male was crying and the female trying to comfort him. Another young one sat to a side, at the age where they felt their emotions yet didn't know why, wanting to be comforted. A yowl of exasperation tore through my thoughts and I rose, more confused than irritated.\n\nI floated through the window and gazed about the room. It was a child's room, small but comfortable. Some toys sat around and in the bed laid a little girl. She was sick, breathing with difficulty and skin an unhealthy pallor. Smokey sat by the girl on the bed, purring anxiously and nudging the girl. Her eyes flickered and a weak smile showed briefly. \"Hi kitty,\"she whispered. A thin hand brushed the cat's fur. \"Sorry I can't play. Don't feel good. Thank you for being here though. I wish...\"the hand fell and her eyes closed again, her breath rattling and new sweat appearing. \n\nI floated there, frozen and unsure. *Dammit dammit dammit. I can't. That I mean I want, but it's against, shit shit-* My own eyes prickled with tears, emotion I haven't felt in a long time and I wiped them away. A miow cut through again, and I felt a touch. Smokey sat on the nightstand, one paw against me. It's eyes held emotions many thought impossible, its ears back. The tail curled around its body and it looked at the child, then back at me. \n\n\"That's all I need. Clear as crystal.\"I placed my hands together palm to palm. I whispered soft words, a language haven't spoken in ages and my hands glowed. I leaned down and touched the girl's head. The glow spread from my hands to her body and immediately she began to change. Her pallor turned rosy, her breath eased. She stopped sweating, and her muscles relaxed, sleeping more easily. Smokey changed almost as fast. The ears perked up and the cat nudged the girl all over, as if inspecting her. It's tail stood straight up and after a few moments it sprang back to the night stand, happy purrs resonating throat as it looked at me though a contented half lidded gaze. \n\nI returned the obvious smirk. \"Yeah yeah, that's all your wishes. We good?\"Smokey nodded with noble insouciance and settled down by the girl, curling into a ball and purring happily. I started to float out and paused, looking back. I counted on my hand and sighed, snapping my fingers one more time. A fluffy stuffed bear appeared between the cat and the girl and the purrs grew louder. \"That's three.\"I said softly and drifted away, cradling my lamp in one arm. *I think the council will accept that. Man, maybe I need another long break. Or a cat language instructor...*\n\nEdit: Holy cow I don't deserve the gold! Thank you so much. I'm touched knowing so many people enjoyed it. Thank you. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"This is an Emergency Alert. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not go outside after sundown. Restrict contact with others. Do not enter tunnels during daytime. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM and 8AM. Stay inside your homes until dawn. Military aid is unavailable. Good luck.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\n**edit 3: Further updates will be posted in my subreddit /r/Ardarail, thanks for reading everyone!**\n\n- - - -\n\n \n\n\nI was watching the evening news when it started. The news anchor was cut off mid sentence by a loud, unbroken tone and the bright while bold letters began to scroll across screen.\n\n**WE'VE INTERRUPTED YOUR NORMAL VIEWING EXPERIENCE FOR THIS IMPORTANT NATIONAL SECURITY BROADCAST. IT IS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT THAT YOU FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS EXACTLY FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.**\n\nA monotone voice accompanied the words that appeared next.\n\n*This is a national emergency alert. Do not leave your homes between 6PM and 8AM. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM and 8AM. Barricade all entries to your house and cover your windows with opaque material. Exercise extreme caution when out during the day. Do not enter tunnels or other dark areas during the day. Restrict contact with all others including those claiming to be official persons. Military and police assistance is not available at this time.*\n\nI stared at the screen, mouth agape as the alert began to repeat its message again. My mouth felt dry and a cold sweat began to prickle at my back. Only the sudden wetness as I accidentally poured half my beer into my lap was enough to shake me from my shocked stupor.\n\n*Is this some kind of joke?* I thought as my pulled out I phone and began to record a video of the message. I flipped through a few channels. All showed the same white words and robotic narrator. \n\nQuickly I checked twitter and my worst fears were confirmed. Whatever \"it\"was it was blowing up online. Hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of tweets. Pictures and videos of the same message currently playing on my TV screen. Everyone seeming just as confused as I was.\n\nI put down my phone and crossed my living room to look out the window. Everything *seemed* normal enough, at first glance at least. Then I noticed the conspicuous lack of... well of anything really. Cars, motorcycles, even just people strolling down the sidewalk were nowhere to be found. I glanced at my watch *6:42PM* not that late, there should be plenty of people out still. I took a last long glance out my window and then I saw *it*. At first I thought it was a person but then I noticed the odd, shambling aimless gait, the somewhat bedraggled experience, and the *face*. At this point he (I'm relatively certain it was a he) was under a streetlight and close enough to see the details of his face. His mouth was smeared with blood and his eyes were a milky white and seemed bloodshot. \n\nImmediately I shut my curtains and took a shaky step back. \n\n*What the fuck, was this for real? That looked like... I don't even want to say it but that looked like an actual, real life fucking zombie outside my house.*\n\nAt this point the panic began to set in. I tried to take some deep breaths and steady myself. Expand your diaphragm, keep calm, everything is going to be okay.\n\n*Don't worry, you've prepared for this. How many zombie movies have you seen and said \"I could totally survive that\". This'll probably be easy!*\n\nI ran through a mental list of everything I needed to do. Every door, locked and dead-bolted. Gun out of the safe and loaded. Windows, taped and covered in cardboard. Enough food in the pantry to survive a week maybe two tops.\n\n*Hmm maybe I should call in work and tell them I'm sick and won't be coming in tomorrow...* Immediately I dismissed the thought. My mind was coming up with things to distract me from the true direness of this situation.\n\nThen the lights went out.\n\nAs I sat in the darkness the terror began to grip me, a tight ball of it in my stomach slowly crawling up my throat and choking me so it seemed that I just couldn't gasp enough air no matter how hard I tried. With shaking hands I opened my phone and checked twitter again. Nothing. Nothing but a spinning circle. No WiFi, no cellular connection, no internet at all. Everything was down. \n\nI felt like screaming but I could barely produce a pathetic rasping squeak. Plus it was past sundown and I was terrified to make any noise. \n\nWith the internet I thought I'd be fine, I could stay up to date with what was happening. I'd have entertainment for when I couldn't leave my house. I'd be able to just google any survival questions I had. Really it was like we'd all be going through the apocalypse together, connected through the wondrous power of the internet. But now I was alone. Truly alone and it was getting to me in a bad way.\n\n*I've done all I can for tonight, maybe I should just try and get some rest.*\n\nAs I lay in my bed staring into the pitch blackness I knew it was a lost cause, there's no way in hell I'd be able to sleep. It was going to be a long, long night.\n\n \n\nSometime around 3AM the noises started. It sounded like pack of baying dogs but somehow *wrong*. And then it hit me, it was humans. Or some things that used to be human. Howling in a discordant symphony. The howling began to grow louder and higher in pitch, sounding almost excited. Then I heard a very human scream, full throated and ear-piercing it went on and on and on until suddenly it stopped and there was only the baying of whatever creatures the poor soul had fallen to. I curled up tighter under my covers, clutching my handgun until my knuckles turned white. I was shaking and all I could think was *Maybe I could've helped. Maybe I should've done something.*\n\nBut deep down I knew I wouldn't, would never. And it wasn't because of the warning to \"Restrict contacts with others* though I tried to convince myself it was. I was just too scared. I was a coward and I'd let a thousand people die outside my door before I'd risk myself stepping out there into the unknown. \n\n \n\n- - - -\n\n*End of part 1 but I've got some more cooking up in my brain. If you'd like me to continue please let me know :)*\n\nedit: *It's 2AM here now, so I'll have to post part 2 tomorrow, sorry guys! I'm also considering opening a subreddit so let me know if anyone would be interested in that!*\n\nedit 2: ***Okay by popular demand I'm starting a subreddit! /r/Ardarail check it out for more stories!***\n\nStay tuned part 2 is in the works!\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Humans are the first species to achieve interstellar travel. Not because we are smarter or more advanced than aliens, but because we are the only ones stupid and stubborn enough to try." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The translator on Jack's wrist beeped, flashing in bold letters what the alien had just said to him.\n\n\"You mean to tell me you came here, a hundred and thirty light years away from your home, across the vast expanse of deep space, in *that*?\"\n\nThe alien pointed a blue tentacle at Jack's starship.\n\n\"Yeah! What's wrong with it? Top-of-the-line engineering, only had to spend a couple years on board fixing some leaks--\"\n\n\"*LEAKS*? You used a highly pressurized vessel traveling beyond the speed of light with *holes in it* to get here?\"\n\n\"Well, yeah, but it's all I could afford--\"\n\n\"Is your species *dying*? Do you come to request aid? We'd be more than happy to assist!\"\n\nJack chuckled and smiled. \"No, not particularly, I just wanted to explore some of the spiral arm before getting married back home.\"\n\n\"WE HAVE NEVER EVEN *CONSIDERED* LEAVING OUR STAR SYSTEM BECAUSE OF THE INSURMOUNTABLE RISKS INVOLVED WITH DEEP SPACE TRAVEL AT RELATIVISTIC SPEEDS, AND YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU PERSONALLY *BOUGHT* A SHIP *WITH HOLES* AND DROVE IT BEYOND THE SPEED OF LIGHT, JUST BECAUSE YOU *WANTED TO*?\"\n\n\"Yep, pretty much.\"\n\nThe color drained from the alien's face, but it was still completely obvious that it really wanted to learn more about 'Ordinary Human Jack'.\n\n\"What does your species do for science now?\"\n\n\"Well, it's been a couple years since I've heard anything exciting, but somebody *did* just figure out how to tether a warp field to cables before I left; really helps with FTL tug-ships and what not.\"\n\nThe alien was intrigued by this scientific development.\n\n\"Oh, and we dunked some astronauts into the event horizon of a black hole using it. They're still recovering from mild radiation poisoning, but hey, they said it looks pretty cool down there. Somebody petitioned to send an artificially intelligent drone down there, too; its impressionist paintings are selling for millions of dollars all across the United Systems--\"\n\nThe color drained from the alien's face yet again.\n\n\"Okay, so you built an infinitely strong tether for dragging ships home in FTL, but decided to use it instead to explore black holes? WAIT A MINUTE, DID YOU SAY YOU SENT *PEOPLE* DOWN THERE *FIRST*???\"\n\n\"Well, the civilian ship that wanted to try it didn't have any drones on board, so--\"\n\n\"CIVILIANS?? NOT A SCIENTIFIC OR GOVERNMENT AGENCY?? SOME NORMAL PEOPLE JUST DECIDED TO TIE SOME COOL ROPES AROUND THEMSELVES AND BUNGEE-JUMP INTO A *GRAVITATIONAL WHIRLPOOL OF DOOM*?\"\n\n\"Again, yep, pretty much. We even have the video on board if you'd like to see it; the thing went totally viral on YouTube--\"\n\n\"NONONONO, JACK, WE'VE SEEN QUITE ENOUGH.\"\n\n\"Aw, wait, what about the one where a replica Star Destroyer punched a hole through a red dwarf?\"\n\nThe alien stared at Jack in disbelief.\n\n\"Wait... THAT WAS *YOU*???\"\n\nThey talked like this all day and night, with Ordinary Human Jack talking about the incredible exploits of his kind, and a growing number of interested Balthalorians listening in.\n\nUpon his return to Earth, the Balthalorian delegation earned a place at the United Systems Senate, among seven other alien races discovered by Jack that year. Each had sophisticated technologies in certain fields, sometimes centuries beyond human analogs. However, not a single civilization had been even *remotely* close to developing interstellar travel, citing incredible risks involved.\n\nJack was promoted to the highest reaches of a newfound Human diplomatic corps, and became jokingly known across the spiral arm as the \"Accidental Diplomat\"for his calm, casual and eager conversations with newly discovered alien life, eloquently introducing them to the ways of humanity, despite being an explorer by trade.\n\nIt is thought that his charming kindness and understanding of advanced technology single-handedly brought dozens of alien races into cooperation with the human fold, largely out of admiration of our tenacity and stubbornness in the face of, well, *physics*. And Jack is still revered across the conjoined realms to this day.\n\nThe Tangarok call him \"Uplifter\".\n\nThe Kandaj call him \"Kindlord\".\n\nThe Qekh call him \"Voidmaster\".\n\nAlas, as nice as these names seem, none of them are really and truly representative of Jack, the Accidental Diplomat. A hero he may be, but to those Balthalorians who knew him best, he was simply another \"Ordinary Human\", out to explore the cosmos by whatever means necessary, no matter how stupid or stubborn those means tended to be." } ]