I do not understand. Did she trade places with the genie?

Oof. That was good.

All the Men & Boys are turning into Uncontrollable Monsters except your son whose still listen to you after his transformation.

Yeah I figured most prompts would have the villain stay so I wanted to do something a little different

Lions vs. Zombies.

Wouldn't wishing to survive the apocalypse actually also bring on the apocalypse within your own lifetime? How else could you survive it?

Well written and pleasant to read. Thank you!

Ahhh! Yes, thank you!

An Apocalypse where the creature (you can choose what it is/how it looks) is creating problems, not by attacking humans, but by... Simply reproducing too fast.

If the Human Population seemed out of control before, this is in a whole new level.

Marv scp-3300 if you kindly.

Dig this writing. I was sitting somewhere in the back of The Alibi as I read this.

Sad and sweet. Thank you for the reply!

> We lost his sister next year

I assume you meant last?

He was the man that suggested adding the second un-skipable ad to Youtube-

I'm joking I will leave it open ended and you can fill in the blank with what ever unspeakable crime that would make a man that raises the dead recoil

Happy endings are subjective mate. Political stances also matter very little in fantasy based prompts such as this. You won’t be treated as the next coming of Hitler for a response.

    Elgar knew the family would soon enter his bare, but warm office. The weeping from the visitation room dwindling down always meant they were almost done. Four hundred and seventy three. That was how many children Elgar brought back to life, just to hear the sobs of their parents when they inevitably passed away again. He finished the paperwork for the family and stared at nothing in particular. Lost in the thought of all the children over the years and how much it cost the families for an extra hour of life. This was his sixtieth year in this business and he was tired of burying babies while he lived in excess.

    "Thank you, sir," said the man in his doorway--the father of the three year old boy he'd resurrected. Three years old, here long enough for his parents to know him. The woman standing next to the man--the mother--could only give a half-hearted bow, unable to talk in her grief.

    "Of course, of course. Please sit. Here are our options for burial," Elgar said and slid a sheet of paper towards them detailing coffin options and pricing.

    "I-Is there anything, cheaper?" the man flipped the sheet of paper over looking for more options, only to find it blank.

    "Well, there is an option to donate the body to the state, he will be laid to rest eventually," Elgar said quietly. The couple looked at each other and embraced, crying. After a moment, the man nodded.

    "Can we choose the plot? We lost his sister last year and want them to be together," the man said. Elgar knew the answer was no, but his heart couldn't take it. He took a deep breath and sighed.

    "Follow me," he said. He stood up with great effort--recent resurrection hadn't been kind to his old body--and led the couple back into the visitation room. He checked his breast pocket to make sure it was right where he always kept it. The letter. He handed it to the man, "Please open this." As the man opened the letter, Elgar laid his hands on the boy again and smiled. He felt the life drain out of him. He felt the world fade. He felt at peace.

    Elgar collapsed on the ground, pale and lifeless. The young boy coughed, sat up, and cried. The mother grabbed her son tight and cried with him. The man looked at the letter, which read:

What a precious thing a life is. I hope your child lives as full and long of a life as I've lived.

Oh no. What'd he do

And today I learned about the Sierra Nevada range. Thanks for writing!

Do you remember what that series of stories was called?

„I wish you weren’t so sad.“ The sentence cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter.

Wait. Did I say that out loud?

Everybody stared at me. First and foremost all the people who stood in the cue before me.

One wish per adult per year. Only granted if never asked before. Those were the rules. So people cued and went one at a time. Some friend of mine had jobbed here as crowdhandlers.

The genie actually never had set this system up, it just kind of happened as the ages went by, and no one had dared or cared to challenge the process. Well, at least until what just happened. Because of me. Oops.

In my Defense: I was not exactly in my best self. Having just turned 18 the night prior had left parts of my brain not quite up to the task.

„That wish has never been asked of me.“ the genie finally declared. With a smile.

Wait what?

My brain could not really comprehend what just happened. Did I just get my wish?! But that means …

„But we get like one wish each year?! No one ever asked you that?! How long have you been this miserable for?“ my hungover, still slightly drunk brain had no mind for the outraged pilgrims around me. This was my birthday, and if genie boy over there and I got along then I would make the most of it.

„I wish everyone who came for years, got multiple chances and never once thought about using a single one for you would lose their future wishes.“ I said with all the Sass I could bring up. Brilliant. Everyone looked at me like I murdered some Kittens.

Idiots. The lot of them. Everyone knows. One try per year. I already had my shot. Even my messed up head could not forget that one. I waved like some royal, turned on my step and left the stage.

Or tried to.

„That wish has never been asked of me before.“

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Oops.

Mwahahaaaah!

NASA along with their international partners launch a series of Solar Shield/Shade satellites as a means to combat a coming global climate cataclysm by allowing us to manually adjust the "thermostat" so to speak. Predictably, things go wrong. The Satellites are hacked by fellow humans & used against us.. Why would they sentence themselves to destruction? Well that's the thing, the intrusion did not originate from Earth...

One destination marked on everyone’s rain-splattered map. A safe haven amongst the sunken cities and drowned highways, a light in the hungering darkness of the Newborn Sea.

Sierra Nevada.

The mountain-based settlement that had stood its' ground against the whipping, violent winds and the never-ending icy downpour. After the majority of the population had learned the rain would not be ending, they raced to find somewhere that wouldn’t be just another Atlantis amongst the thousands of American cities. Denali was too far; none of their boats would make it. At first, hope dwindled like the amount of surviving cities. However, a radio broadcast from the settlement perched atop the tall California peaks gave many another handle to grasp for.

A sigh escaped Leon's mouth as he recounted the earliest days of this apocalypse, his hand pulling away from the map resting upon a table. The unstable ground swayed and heaved beneath him, and the unceasing patter of raindrops upon the upper deck of the watercraft drilled into his mind. The howls of the vicious gales outside merged with the booming thunder, forming a strangely symphonic melody of chaos. The man peered out the disappointingly small window that provided the only easy view of the storming outdoors. As he glanced at the door leading to the lower deck, he reluctantly approached; Terry would definitely want his help with how hateful the storm had grown.

Leon braced himself for the hell that was the storm outside and opened the door. Immediately he was greeted by a harsh gust of wind attempting to shove him back inside the cabin. With a huff, he pushed through and raised an arm to shield his face, his already-soaked hair lashing at his face and the raindrops pouring down his brow and racing across his face. He gritted his teeth and turned away from the wind, gazing upwards slightly at the elevated platform the steering wheel sat upon. In the brief flashes of lightning that illuminated the otherwise dark environment, he could see the outline of a portly man clinging tightly to the steering wheel.

"TERRY, WE'VE GOT TO ANCHOR!" Leon screamed, depleting his lungs of their oxygen as he threw his voice against the winds. As he began to make his way to the steering wheel, he caught a few words before they were Slot to The cacophony of sounds.

"OKAY…. WHEEL! I'LL… THE ANCHOR!" was all Leon heard from his companion, though he got the message. Slowly but surely he fought his way up the slick stairs, one hand gripping the railing tightly and the other shielding his face. As he finally reached the top deck, Leon reached for the steering wheel and just barely brushed it with his fingertips: he three himself forward and grabbed the polished steering device to catch his fall. As he did so, Terry began making his journey to the anchor situated towards the back of the boat. It was in a precarious position, resting in an exposed area near the two engines with no railings or barriers.

As Leon took up a sturdy stance beside the wheel and tightly grasped the handles, another abrupt glimpse of light given to him by the harsh lightning gave him a glance of something dire. A massive dip was awaiting them, and they were charging for it like a reckless boar. His eyes widened despite the gusts and heavy downpour, and he opened his jaw to warn his friend.

"TERRY, HOLD ON! THERE'S A-" Leon's sentence was abruptly cut off as the boat seemed to rise out of the water for a second before slamming down into the hungry waves with insane power. Leon’s teeth clamped down sharply on his tongue, sending a spike of pain coursing through his body. His feet lost traction and he was sent gliding backwards, his back slamming into the tough railing behind him. It took a moment for him to process what had occurred as water splashed over the sides of the craft, soaking him even more thoroughly. A coppery flooded his mouth, and he shook off his surprise, glancing fearfully to where Terry had gone.

The man was gone.

"TERRY? TERRY?! TERRY!"

Well damn. Only response I’ve seen that ended with the character going back.

> Jury members aren’t allowed to vote guilty or not guilty based on vibes, or reputation, only on the admissible evidence of the case.

But impeaching the character of a witness is allowed because making their testimony untrustworthy is relevant to the claim. In this case the prosecution would be trying to show that the testimony of all the ex-cons at "The Alibi" is not trustworthy to provide an alibi, and that would be pretty easy.

No... most people in the reddit wishes for happy ends as well as certain political stances... This story, which I left stewing (without the dimensional exile part), isn't one of those... and a serious verbal slashing against those...