Dave jerked the steering wheel of the SUV hard to the left and felt the satisfying thud as one of the undead bounced lifelessly off the cattleguard. Behind him his son pumped his fist and marked another tally on the window “Another one for Mad Dad: The Roadwarrior,” the teen quipped and got a snort of amusement from his older sister. His wife just rolled her eyes and gave Dave a withering glance before closing her eyes and trying to get some more sleep. Humor had gotten them far in this hellscape the world had become. Whenever things started to feel hopeless one of them would spit out something absurd and have the rest in fits trying to stay quiet. Through thick and thin they had made it and, though still bleak, it was starting to look better. They were almost there.

     After months of cowering in one hideout after another they had finally secured a vehicle and enough gas to get on the road. With no real indications of civilization having survived they had decided to head cross-country from California to Florida. The southwest had punished them hard for that decision but they had persevered. Halfway through Texas and a few days ago they had picked up a radio broadcast that had left them all incredulous but excited.

     “Ya’ll come on down to Waffle House for a hot and fresh meal! Due to the circumstances our menu options are limited but we will remain open!”

     Dave had been forced to pull over so everyone could burn off the excitement without risking an accident. By the time they had gotten back on the road the plan had changed.

     Ahead Dave spotted the golden promise and black block letters of the sign and he shouted. “There it is kids! Look!” The two in the back pressed forward around the front seats and ooo’d and awe’d appreciatively at the lit sign that glowed above the trees in the distance. Dave noticed that the cars along the interstate here had been cleared away to the side of the road and blessedly clear lanes spread out before him. As they approached the off-ramp though, he found himself slowing for the chainlink fence that stretched across the roadway. Two men in white uniforms with black aprons greeted him, assault rifles in slings held at low ready in front of them.

     Dave, slack jawed pulled the SUV forward and stopped as one of the two men gestured for him to do so. “Let me do the talking?” He glanced to his wife who nodded back to him, their kids huddling away from his window as he rolled it down.

     “How ya’ll doing tonight?” The man greeted, giving them a friendly but gap filled smile. “My name is Jimmy and I’ll be your gate man, but before I get ya’ll through to the WaHo I’m gonna have to ask a few questions and get ya’ll to sign this form.” He gestured to a clipboard that was tucked into his apron. “First of all. Any of ya’ll been bit? I know. Silly question, but corporate you know?”

     Dave listened to the man and offered a quick shake of his head no to the question. “No bites.”

     “Any weapons?”

     “Uh.. Yeah.”

     “That’s good, ain’t safe out there. Gotta leave em in the truck though, understand?”

     “Yeah, no problem.”

     “Anything to declare for trade?”

     “Trade?”

     “Oh yeah. We don’t take money no more. Eggs, cheese, grits, bacon if it’s fresh. Napkins. Sweet-n-low packets. We’ll trade for most anything.”

     “Oh.. We don’t have anything like that. We do have more canned beans than we really want though.”

     “Beans? Oh yeah we can work something out. Now we’ll open the gate and ya’ll park off in the parking lot. They’ll check ya for bites at the entrances. Don’t you worry none we got ladies and fellas sections and nobody has to go alone.”

     Dave swallowed the dry lump in his throat and nodded. He quickly read the paperwork that was offered, noting that it was a liability form and consent to being quarantined or exiled if any bites were discovered during the checks. A list of acceptable and unacceptable behavior, found in every pre-apocalypse Waffle House was also attached causing Dave to laugh as he signed. Letting himself be guided through the gate before they drove up the on ramp.

     “Dad? What’s going on? Where were his teeth?” Jack asked quietly, turned to look at the two men guarding the gate.

     “We’re getting some breakfast Jack. They’re just adapting to the times, I guess? Remember. No making fun of the wait staff. We don’t need to get kicked out.” He passed back the list of rules to his kids. At the apex of the ramp the building finally appeared and Dave couldn’t help himself. “Holy fuck.” His wife slapped him on the arm out of instinct before she caught sight of the diner and echoed his sentiment. “..holy fuck”

     The once humble brick and yellow diner was surrounded by an impromptu fortification. Chainlink fences ringed the entire intersection, on and off ramp included, while deep ditches ringed the store and parking lot directly. On the flat roof he even spotted what looked like a sandbag bunker and a machine gun aimed towards the interstate. Next to it stood another employee with binoculars hanging from his neck and a radio in hand. Dave felt like he was having a fever dream.

     Once parked all four piled out in short order, stretching and shaking the road off. “No weapons inside, leave them in the car. Knives too Jack!” The lot was surprisingly full of vehicles and each one had their own unique blend of function and form but they all screamed ‘murder machine’. A lot could change in a year.

     There was no line for inspections. Probably because they were no-nonsense and done quickly within curtained off sections of the entry way. Glass barriers protected the employees and curtains protected everyone’s modesty. When they regrouped inside each were awed at.. The normalcy of it all.

     It looked just like any Waffle House from before. Sure, the lights may flicker once or twice and the windows were barricaded from the outside. But the diner floor was clean, and several patrons sat around at booths and enjoyed their limited breakfast options. Seating themselves at a booth they looked down at the hand written paper menu containing one line.

     “Hashbrowns”

[removed]

Not a problem. If you edit it back in feel free to reply here and lemme know. Points can be updated until campfire begins :D

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Exactly!! Lol

Omg yes I forgot about that.

Babies just appear from her mind like when she was born from Zeus' mind.

I think my first thought would be "I'm not getting that blueberry syrup I asked for" before woah there's a demon and a woman juggling the grill

You’re totally right, I scratched that sentence. Sorry about that!

Maybe it was the garden, erupting in riotous growth. Or perhaps it was the trees, perfect for my youthful dream of a hammock. But whatever the reason, standing in the yard of my newly-purchased house, I felt young despite my age.

Of course it had to come to an end.

A noise made me turn and stare. A child was climbing one of my hammock trees. Their smile shining brightly, their laughter ringing high, misquemed me.

Upon reflection, I'd realize it was an overreaction. But even as the words poured forth, I felt my childhood dying.

"Get off my lawn!"

WC: 100

r/NobodysGaggle

You are missing the word "age" and the sentence "It had come to an end"

It really is :)

Can you try checking again? I think I included all the reqs; thanks

Outstanding

boss isnt exactly an ass but fast food

{the devil is a part timer}

Ding Ding

“Order up!”

“Come on Sally, I heard they cleared out the crawlers. it’ll be fun! Just a quick trip to the amelia mall.” The young lady pulled at her friend's arms.

“Them jumpers are spreading way too foo fast. We’re also running low on ammo boss. We need reinforcements, yesterday.” The former captain sighed, taking off his hat as he glanced at the battalion leader.

“Here you are, sir. Your T bone Shredder and Ravegger egg with a side of Entrophies based iced milktea.” The lady placed the plates in front of the gentleman, as she shot a smile towards his daughter. “Aaaaand for you sweetheart, double waffles with a zipper sausage.” The lady placed the plate and went to boop the little girl's nose.”

The man pulled out his gun. “Place your finger and I’ll blow your brains, sucker.” The waitress glanced back towards the father, her eye slits changed as she stared down the nozzle.. She smiled. “Of course sir. Can I get you anything else?” She said as she backed off.

“Just fuck off.”

Ding Ding

“Order up!”

—----------------------

“Ohohoh lets go boys!! We caught us a fresh Zipper!” The young man excited, pulled out the notice from his bag. “It looks hella aged too. This is bank!” He passed the paper to his friend. “We could live off of this for 6 months straight!” The friend shouted as he eyed the notice

Waffle house apocalyptic offers, sales, and deals!

• M = month - W = Week - D = Day
• Zipper - 10m rations + 100 credits per KJ
• Crawlers - 1d ration + 1 credit per KJ
• Jumpers - 2d rations + 1 credit per KJ
• Shredder - 10m rations + 120 credits per KJ
• Entrophies - 15w rations + 70 credits per KJ.
• ******
• *****

“Ahaha, lets goo!” The young man jumped. “How longs it been since we’ve even seen a live Zipper?” He grabbed his butchers knife and about dismembering the corpse. “Let's pack up and get going Jace, before the raiders show up.” He tossed a sheathed knife to his friend.

“Dont gotta tell me twice, last I checked though.” He looked up and smirked. “Last I checked, I was faster than you at cutting them beasts up Rick.” He turned his head as he finished speaking, expecting a rock that came from Rick. “Hahaha, cmon man, all jokes, lighten up.” He stuffed the remaining parts in the bin.

Steps came behind, they flinched and turned, pulling out their weapons. “How many times do we gotta tell you not to sneak up on us.” Jace lunged at Aaron, his younger brother, putting him in a headlock.

“Watcha got there Moe?”

“Hahaha, me and Aaron caught us a live Entrophy!” He dropped the cooler, opening it up, showing the butchered beast.

Rick stared at jace, and they hugged each other. “1 year of pay and rations, in only 1 trip?!” Aaron and Moe decided it would be perfect to jump on them. “Group hug!!!”

“Hey, get off me!”

“Oi, whos pegging me!”

“Hahahahaa wrap your arms around them!”

“You little, you think you can beat your older brother huh?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8 men, with big goofy smiles, entered the restaurant, with a total of 7 coolers. All eyes on them as they began moving. Waffle House employees prepared to draw their weapons in case someone got a funny idea. They walked towards the recollection area and placed the coolers in front of them.

“We hit the jackpot today!” The man leading the group bellowed out with a harsh laugh.

“Unpack the coolers, check for age, spoilage, type, and quality.” The woman in charge spoke as she moved behind the counter. She grabbed gloves, and ration coupons, and a bag of credits.

“So, are they alive?” She eyed the man leading the group. She then stared at one of the coolers. “Moe had a habit of customizing his coolers, he even paid good money for it.” She put her hand behind her coat and drew a pen. She clicked it and began writing.

“Them boys were loud.” The man turned to his buddies, and they all laughed. “Gotta stay quiet these days.” He smirked as he eyed the recollectors working. “They’re still alive, bait, for tomorrow's hunt. Live ones always attract money.”

“I see.” She cleaned his glasses and put away her pen. “Here are your ration coupons.” She motioned to the back with her head. “Take this paper with you.”

As the man began walking away, she turned and walked behind them.

“Thank you for visiting waffle house, we hope to see you alive tomorrow” She bowed.

"Come on," I hiss the words over my shoulder, "we can hide in there."

Joe nods. He takes a moment to shove a few things into his backpack and free up his hands. As he slides his arms back into the shoulder straps, he nods once more. Both of us crouching in the tall weeds, we move out.

We've nearly made it to the door of the diner when something growls behind us. Neither of us wastes time turning to look. The pounding of feet behind us and the growing smell of death are enough information.

Together, we leap up and bolt forward. My heart hammers against my ribs. We're sprinting as hard as we can, but it feels like we're not getting any closer. The monster is gaining ground. Barely slowing my stride, I reach down and grab a rock. I spin around and swing the stone hard. It connects with the zombie's shoulder and throws my attacker off balance, sending it stumbling off to the side. By the time I spin back toward the building, Joe has the door held open wide. He ushers me through, yanks the door closed again, and twists the deadbolt into place.

I slump back against the wall with my eyes closed, fighting for my breath. Joe leans over, one hand against the stitch in his side, the other bracing himself against his knee. The zombie roars and pounds its fists against the tempered glass. We know it won't hold forever, but for now at least, it's enough.

"Hey there."

My eyes fly open and Joe darts upright at the unexpected voice.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle y'all."

I gape at the woman as my mind slowly finds its way out of fight-or-flight mode. She's wearing a blue shirt with a smudged, illegible nametag. Her brown hair sits atop her head in a messy rat's nest of curls. I can't quite pull my eyes away from her to look over at Joe, but I'm sure his brain is going through the same.

"Y'all two go on and sit just anywhere." Squeezing past the pair of us, she twists open the deadbolt and slides a dagger from the sheath on her hip. "I'll be there in a minute."

Joe and I scoot away, slowly backing towards a table while still staring at the woman. She shoves open the glass door, deftly shoves the blade through the creature's temple, wipes the dagger off on the leg of her jeans, returns the weapon to its sheath, then strides over to our table.

The woman smiles. "Hi, I'm Marge. So, what'll y'all have? I'm runnin' a bit low on supplies at the moment, so selection's not the best. But I've still got some bread and cheese. Pretty sure there's a couple of eggs left. Oh, there's still a couple of burger patties and fries."

"Uh..."

Joe and I stare at each other for a beat before turning back to her.

"Tell you what. I'll just run to the back and see what I can whip up."

Before we can gather our wits, the woman disappears to the back.

"What the..."

"I don't know." Joe leans across the table and whispers to me, "What does she expect in return for this? It's not like money is still worth anything these days. Not that we have any anyway. But I'm sure she's goi–"

Joe clamps his mouth shut and leans back in his seat as Marge reappears. His movements are obviously conspicuous, but Marge just smiles.

"I made you a bacon cheeseburger." She sets down one of the plates and slides it in front of Joe. "No onions or tomatoes left. And sorry that there ain't any more ketchup, so it might be a touch dry. You look like you could use the protein, honey."

"And for you," she sets the second plate in front of me, "I've made a couple of overeasy eggs, some toast, and a few canned peas. Oh! And I almost forgot, I still got a blueberry pie left. I'll slice you both off a bit of that when you're ready."

"Uh... Thank y–"

Before I can get my word out, Joe interrupts. "What's in this for you? Money isn't any good these days."

"Oh," Marge waves, nonchalantly. "Whatever y'all can offer. Bandages, meds, You know, just whatever you can spare."

The woman prepares to turn away, but then stops and looks back at us. "And, I'm a decent enough cook with no reason to harm ya. So, there's a meal for ya. Take it or leave it."

As she disappears to the back, I stare at the warm food. I'd been a bit hesitant at first, but after days of nothing but dandelions, wild onions, and a few roasted crickets, well I just can't resist. By the time I look up again, Joe has polished off his food as well and Marge is heading back toward us.

"Thank you, Marge." I reach over and start rifling through my pouch. "I've got a few over-the-counter medications you can have. Some toothpicks. A manicure kit with a nail file and some clippers. Um..."

The woman's smile manages to grow even bigger as she looks into my bag. She points inside at something. "You wanna part with those?"

I stare at her and then back into the bag, certain I've misunderstood. "It's the apocalypse and you want some vinyl records?"

"Yeah, honey. I got enough food and drink for a good, long while yet. I got some meds. Even got a nice hammock and a decent weapon supply. Goodness, I've even got myself a record player, but ain't got nothin' to play on it."

"Sure!" I pull the records from the bag and thrust them toward her.

A noise from the doorway draws everyone's attention. Three zombies start to pound on the glass pane. Joe and I stand up, gather our things, and get ready to bolt to the rear exit, fully expecting Marge to join. Instead, she shoos us away.

"Door's back around that corner. I can handle these three, easy."

Unsure, we move to the back of the building as Marge makes her way toward the front. We stop and gesture for her to join. She shakes her head and grins. "I got this. Come on back real soon though!"

The woman places her hand against the door handle and lifts the blade, ready to attack. "Don't forget your pie there on the counter! Go on and take the whole thing now, those records just saved my sanity!"

As we make our escape – warm blueberry pie in hand – we hear the last of the zombie's growls fade into silence. The front door chimes behind us one last time and we know that Marge is going to make it through this apocalypse just fine.

--------------

r/WannaWriteSometimes

The fear effect was killing most of them. The sight of a demon terrified humans and so when he stomped around the room, most of them just had heart attacks and died on the spot. That made sweeping tough, but I had a little time left before my stamina ran out for the day.

He pull out Jerry's spine, through his nose. Good work. Still took Jerry one minute and seven seconds to die, and that was some quality demonic murder if I ever saw it. Of course, Jerry would leave another mess.

I pushed the broom, gathering up some stray trays when someone stepped infront of me.

"Excuse me, Sir," I began looking up at the nine foot tall demon. To a mortal, he would have looked terrifying, to me he looked curious.

"I'm Morgath, the hell bearer, boo?" said Morgath.

"And if you could please step to the side, I need to sweep this area up before closing," I replied. Morgath moved, and looked around.

"Everyone is dead, I don't think you can close," said the demon.

"I still get the points as long as I complete my closing checklist," I replied pushing the last few trays and a whole hamburger into the dustbin. 'Animals'

"Points?" asked the demon, walking to the counter as I stepped behind it and opened up the utility closet. Janet put the mop bucket in half full again, meaning I'd have to dump it before I cleaned the floor. I glared at her, but she was face down in the fryer so she didn't respond.

I'd bring the whole thing up with Jerry, but the spine thing. Thankfully, Morgath dropped that behind the counter and that was Frank's job, not that it would get done either but hopefully Frank would fall out of the ceiling before ravens pecked out his eyes. Or pigeons, more likely.

Carrying the bucket to the back of the store, I poured it out into the utility bin as the demon strode up behind me and raised his arm, "Look, I'm sorry man but I said I'd kill everyone."

He struck faster than a cobra, his hand ended in razor sharp claws and the demon could easily shove his arm through a piece of steel. Obviously, he nearly broke his hand as it skittered off of my chest, and the bucket sloshed slightly. I didn't need to refill it, but I'd probably have to put up the wet floor sign, which was back near Janet and covered in blood.

"Do you mind," I asked. Morgath stepped aside.

"You're a dragon," he said after I grabbed the mop.

I nodded, and started mopping the floor.

Morgath drew out his sword, bathed in infernal flames, and held it up. I flinched, "Hey, new uniform."

"I need to kill you," said Morgath apologetically as he brought the sword down on my shoulder. It pinged loudly as it impacted, splitting the shoulder of my uniform badly.

"I'm going to have to patch that," I grunted as I lifted off the blade and continued mopping. "Look, my shift is over in two minutes. Can you just pretend you tortured Jerry longer than you did?"

"I guess, if you are immune to physical damage does that mean you are an elder dragon," asked the demon as he leaned up against the counter. He grabbed a cup.

"That costs 1 dollar," I stated watching him. He left a gold coin on the counter that was worth $122, which should be fine. Jerry would just keep the gold anyway. Except for the spine thing.

"So," asked the demon as he poured himself a mixture of sprite and coke.

"Yeah, I'm an elder dragon," I replied.

"So why work here," asked the demon.

"Ever play Stardew Valley," I replied as I continued mopping.

"I was more into Animal Crossing," said the demon. Of course he was, those guys loved Nintendo.

"Well, I realized that just being an all powerful dragon on a massive pile of treasure was kind of taxing, and I wanted to relax, so I got a job like in Stardew doing something mundane," I said finishing and checking the floor. I pressed Miss Sanders back with the mop and touched up that corner.

My assigned area was perfect.

"But here?" asked the demon.

"Its relaxing, don't have to worry about anything," I said walking over to punch out. Jerry was going to complain about the shoulder, except the spine thing.

"Huh, you just do a simple job and then go back," said Morgath, "That does sound relaxing."

I looked around, "We are hiring."

[removed]

(Yes I know that there are reasons they didn't just have the eagles carry them, unfortunately I can't actually think of that many plot holes in the Lord of the rings.)

Do you think it's easy to build an entire world out of words?

J.R.R. Tolkien spent years and years building Middle Earth, He put a part of his soul into the world, figuratively and literally.

And yet, with all of the work put into it, the stories of that world and the cursed piece of jewelry have plot holes, why didn't the eagles just carry them up the mountain? Why didn't Legolas, with all his perfect aim, just tie the damn ring to an arrow and fire it off into the volcano? Why didn't Gandalf just give Pippin a gun?

So, if Tolkien couldn't fix every little plot hole with his many years of work, How could some random guy writing short stories for an internet forum scrub all of his plot holes out between college classes?

I certainly believe that's not entirely possible, in fact I know it's not entirely possible, a short story like that, created just for the eyes of a few internet denizens, is going to be more hole than story if you attempt to imagine a full picture of the world these people live in.

So, I'll ask you, what do you think happens when a character written to be a perfect logician uses their perfect logic to find one of those plot holes in their own story?

You get the author's will home for the comically sane, where logical folks who have pieced together that they're in a book go to wait out the plot.

After all, the writer doesn't really care what happens after the story ends, none of that will be written out and shown, I just have to wait here until my friend Travells finishes his case with the pun loving opossum, then his story is considered over, and I get to go wander the little world that the writer has assembled.

How did I end up here? Well, despite the fact that I live in a world with magic, I pieced it together from something incredibly mundane. One morning I went to the grocery store and bought a pound of peaches. On the way home It occurred to me that I didn't know of anywhere that could grow peaches and ship them here, fresh, in the middle of January. So, I googled where the brand imported their peaches from and was met with a blank page. Like any curious intellectual, I went directly to the fruit company to ask, when I entered the building I was met with the writer eating peaches in an empty void.

Yeah, I know it's an existential crisis and a half, but it is what it is.

Now, if you excuse me I'm going to take advantage of the fact that my roommates are all exceptionally smart, I haven't had a challenging chess match in ages.

I will not describe the chess match as the writer does not know how professional chess works.

[removed]

Congrats to all the winners! :D

To have pagan gods objecting to slavery seems to be the pot calling the kettle black, as according to the Enuma Elish, they created humanity to serve them and their worshippers are all slaveholding societies. I have done a fair bit of thinking about the cherem warfare in the Hebrew Bible, putting cities to the sword. In Canaan and Assyria, at least, it does not seem to have been a war crime.

Here’s Mesha, king of Moab from 830 BCE > I proceeded by night and I fought with it from the crack of dawn to midday and I took it and I slew all of them, 7,000 men and boys and women and girls and maidens because I had put it under ḥerem (in Moabite: החרמתה) to Ashtar-Chemosh.

and Ashurbanipal, king of Assyria > The people of Sais, Piṭiṭi (and) Ṣi’nu and the rest of the cities that had joined them (and) plotted evil, young and old, they struck down with the sword. No one among them was spared.

Naturally, the gods of these peoples would be incensed by that because they are their worshippers, but as an act of war it wasn’t uncommon. I still wanted to voice the objection, though.

I was initially a little puzzled by your remark that Baal came to the defense of the God of the Judeans, he doesn’t. You are quite correct that in the Hebrew Bible, El, God of Israel and Baal are rival gods, but the El Baal is talking about there is the Canaanite El, whose son he is and who was sometimes equated with Kronos in Hellenized sources. I wanted to make it clear that they were, at least in a sense, different gods, by saying that Israel’s god has a resemblance to Baal’s father.

You are correct that El or Assyrian Ilu could refer to a major deity in general, that’s why I specified El, God of Israel, a title used in the Hebrew Bible at Genesis 33:18-20

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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“Expired”

She had tunnel vision to an outside dream
Crimson passions spawning duplicitous schemes

She saw my life
ripe for the taking

I thought she gave me a dose
of some experimental drug
prescribed off-label
by something in a parallel universe
where everything had worked out for us
I left it in the medicine cabinet
beyond the lifespan of forgiveness
until I felt safe throwing it out

The act of cleaning gives me time to consider
that she wanted my life
not to take
but to have
or to trade
a fair dream in any universe
alas, it’s faded
expired