Recent comments in /f/WritingPrompts

suomikim t1_j6mziu3 wrote

Reply to [WP] Out of all the superpowers out there, you consider yours the most sadistic; you can save any number of innocent people from death in the face of danger, but to gain that ability, you must kill an innocent person. Named after the infamous moral thought experiment, you are... Trolley Man. by MarauderOnReddit

How Innocent is "innocent"... is there a tape measure? Or some electronic device that you can use ... something like the Scientology e-Meter in order to measure just how pure someone might be? How can some mere mortal do something like this? Can they? Or.. do they need me...

I'm a collector of sorts. Some people are fascinated by circles of vinyl... relics of a bygone era... some few still enjoy stamps... those things that fascinated in the days when people sent actual letters. Ah, Bernice... woman in her 90s showing me her collection of rare stamps "I didn't even know that Monaco was a real country until I got this stamp." Nice woman... but not nice enough, I'm afraid.

Then there's people who collect cars... a lot of good that did for that Tate guy, although people like him are... none of my concern... Or boats, or guitars, or... well, its endless the material trappings that these... humans will collect.

Ah, but I give myself away. I try to refer to you as "people" rather than "humans"; but it is quite hard to remember... to forget. I'm... well, time has forgotten exactly what I might be. Some say that the Reaper had a child with a human, while others say that I'm a spirit who somehow became material. But it isn't important to me how exactly I came to be, rather what matters is what I am and what I can do. And its simply this: I can read your soul. I can measure anyone as a person in the same way that people imagine that their God can. I can see your faults, your vices, but also your works of charity... your hopes, your dreams, your revenge. I can see every drop of it.

None of this interests *me* very much. I have my own dwelling place, complete with land to grow what I need. From being quite wise hundreds of years ago, I have investments to sustain me indefinitely. So I have no real reason to need - or want - to know the intimate details of these mortals.

(Ah, mortals... its a funny thing... I've lived long enough to not be able to count my own years... but I really don't know... am I immortal?)

I met Bob some years back. It was a more or less random thing. You see, I can feel impending tragedy... I am.. almost drawn to it. One could say that this "trait" comes from my possible father... the Reaper. I'm not fascinated in any morbid sense by impending death... I don't enjoy suffering; on the contrary, it fills me with some kind of melancholy. Yet my essence is irresistibly drawn in its direction.

Sometimes I blink and find myself in a new place. And in this case, I was next to a new person. Bob. He was staring intently at the same thing that blinked me next to the train station... an out of control locomotive that was about to crash past the not quite strong enough barricade and annihilate part of the station. That's when I noticed that Bob was wearing a cape. Unconsciously, my eyes rolled. Not only did the superhero not have some fancy name with which to adorn himself; he also wore a cape of all things.

"Fancy I meet you here Bob." I said, dripping with sarcasm voiced from some unrecognizable part of me. "So, one is quite... interested in drama? You could have already stopped this, you know?"

"Shh!" He almost whispered "I have to pick first."

"Pick?" I asked, truly bewildered. "There's no picking involved here. Just fly to the train and stop it, its quite..." I paused when he placed his finger on my lips.

"I have to pick the sacrifice... one innocent person in exchange for unlimited power."

Without taking him seriously for a second, or even taking a pause to think, I pointed to a certain non-descript man of Welsh extraction. he was operating a hot dog vending cart. Divorced, no contact with his children. A decent fellow, but not without faults... Of all the "innocents" he was... the least innocent, one could say.

Bob, without knowing who I was or why I pointed to that man, then himself pointed. The man had a sudden cardiac arrest, after which Bob flew so fast to the train i could barely see him do it. One could see (or imagine) the sweat coming off his forehead from the excruciating effort to stop the train; but stop it he did.

They say that Bob the Protector saved 110 people on the train, and perhaps just as many in the station. What they don't know is that starting that day... with my help in identifying the "least innocent" innocent person to sacrifice... Bob dealt with a lot less guilt for his acts of heroics.

And that first sacrifice that I helped with? The hot dog vendor? Well, someone had to come for his soul. And that? That was the first time that I met the being who might... *might* have been my father...

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WritingPrompts-ModTeam t1_j6myd2h wrote

Reply to [PM] Make up a character name (e.g Rayne Crimson) and I'll make up a backstory for them! by JesiDoodli

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Dawsho t1_j6mx7om wrote

Reply to comment by Chombie_Mazing in [WP] As the gatekeeper of Hell itself, you're used to hearing "I don't belong here." Your job is to convince people they do. So this morning, the last thing you expected was a call from Heaven, about a goody-two-shoes fussing about how they don't belong inside the pearly gates. by CookLawrenceAt325F

This is brilliant.

I'm a little unclear on who went where, but otherwise this is beautifully done

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SamuelVimesTrained t1_j6mwwc4 wrote

Reply to comment by ShikakuZetsumei in [WP] You are a warlock but told your party that you were a wizard so that they would accept you, and you've been keeping up this lie for years. After an encounter goes wrong, you are forced to use your patron's power in a more direct manner to save them. As expected, they have questions for you. by SomeSortOfUser

If this is quick.. where are entries where you were 'slow'??

This was amazing!

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AutoModerator t1_j6mvve1 wrote

Reply to [WP] You work for an organisation that works to prevent atrocities with the use of the butterfly effect, receiving bizarre orders from an ultra-intelligent AI that tells you weeks later what disasters your actions prevented and how. Recently, you start to suspect that the AI has ulterior motives. by Thisnameistrashy

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

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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Adm_Hawthorne t1_j6muum4 wrote

Reply to comment by SamuelVimesTrained in [WP] The Legendary Hero is prophesy to slay the Demon Queen, on his journey he meets a mysterious woman who joined him while falling for her, when they reach the castle the mysterious woman reveal herself to be the Demon Queen Heavily Pregnant with the hero's unborn child! by [deleted]

It's not going to be pretty, but Regina has magic and Nicholas has an impressive array of weaponry and battle tactics at his disposal.

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AutoModerator t1_j6mue2x wrote

Reply to [PM] Make up a character name (e.g Rayne Crimson) and I'll make up a backstory for them! by JesiDoodli

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Ok-Diamond-5200 t1_j6mu3iv wrote

Reply to [WP] Your superpower isn’t anything special. You can make stuff disappear behind your back then pull it back out again. When a friend at a party asks you to do it to them it sounds like a great laugh. But when you pull them back out they look older, disheveled, and are frantic to be sent back. by A_GOOD_NINJA

It was really only a party trick. Finally by either the grace of god or some genetic mutation a person had been gifted a superpower. But it was only good for saving a dying conversation.

Which this corner of the party desperately needed.

“Now watch,” said the would-be-superhero, Evan. He stood in front of an enormous audience of three, all seated on a dingy couch. Behind him people conversed and the music played. The three consisted of a man so deep in sleep that he seemed to be a part of the couch, and two women waiting patiently.

Evan held his drink from the bottom flourishing his left hand around it. He lacked the flare of a true magician, but the two women were watching with at least slight interest.

“And now,” as he spoke he moved the drink behind his back, “it’s gone.” He snapped his now empty hand in front of him showing the front and back to assure of its absence. Both women raised their eyebrows. The one on the left huffed a short laugh. “Wow, some magician. It’s in your waistband. Or your pocket or something.”

Even turned deliberately showing that the drink had truly disappeared. Turning around the cheap magician spoke.

“This is real gen-yoo-ine magic. And now I will bring back my drink… from the great beyond.”

He put his hand behind his back and when he pulled it to his front again, his drink was in his hand.

The woman on the right leaned forward. “Does the worlds corniest magician have any other tricks?”

Damn, toughest crowd around, he thought.

Evan smiled, “Does making other things disappear count?”

The woman both looked unimpressed. Then, from somewhere behind him, a very drunk young man stumbled over, PBR in each hand.

“How ‘bout thish,” he slurred, “I shaw your performance, and how ‘bout you make me vanish, Mr. Magician.” “That would be something Mr. Magician,” the woman on the left mocked.

Evan was worried, but it would be fine right? It’s just making someone disappear from this reality, he thought, not that big of a deal. His ego was a little hurt, and the little liquor he had drank was skewing his decision making, only slightly, though. He really wanted to mess with this kid.

“Alright, sure,” his smile returned. “Now I will make a man vanish into thin air.” He flourished his hands towards the drunk.

“Sho corny,” the drunk replied.

With the little grace Evan took his new stagehands arm and lead him around his back, where he left from sight. To the women on the couch it was as if he walked through an invisible doorway.

“What the fuck,” they said in unison.

Their faces dropped as they stared at Evan. “I told you, it’s real magic.” He laughed and put his had behind his back to retrieve the man.

However when he reached behind his back, the arms he grasped was wrinkly. The guy was young… right? As he thought this he saw the faces of his audience drain of all color. He spun to what should be a young man and took in the sight.

The drunk man had long flowing white hair, with a matching beard that drooped almost to his feet. He now wore a long blue robe faded by time. The parts of his face not hidden by hair were deeply tanned and wrinkled.

His eyes, wide with shock, scanned the room. He settled his eyes on the women. Then, he roared,

“WHAT IS THIS PLACE? WHAT SORCERY HATH YOU HEATHENS USED? DO YOU PULL ME FROM MY STUDIES TO THIS HERETICAL STRUCTURE TO KILL ME? I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY YOU HEATHENS OF THE HILLS.”

The women clung to each other. Both of their jaws slack as they stared at the man. Nothing in their lives could have prepared them for this.

Then he spoke again, his voice deep and commanding, “WELL? SPEAK THEN YE WOMAN FOLK! OR DO THEE WISH FOR COMBAT? THEN HAVE AT ME! I FOUGHT WITH THE NORTHERN BARONIES UNDER COMMANDER LEVIT AGAINST THE DE’TWOT! I MYSELF SLAYED THE GREAT STONE BEAST OF THE EASTERN HILLS! COUNTLESS HAVE COME TO FELL ME AND NONE HAVE COME CLOSE! NO FOE SHALL PROSPER AGAINST ME!

Evan was pouring sweat. He was all too aware of the staring eyes of those around them. What the hell… I don’t even know what…

Before he could finish his thought, the man turned to him. His eyes grew wide and he grasped Evans shoulders with ancient and weathered hands.

“You… sorcerer…” he said, barely above a whisper. “I thought you were a dream. The monastery told me I had imagined this place… but you’re here. Was it all a dream? No surely not… no it can’t be. SEND ME BACK! PLEASE YOU MUST SEND ME BACK WIZARD O’ TRANSIT.”

Evan was felt like he had been kicked in the head by a horse. He tried to speak but couldn’t manage anything. The man was tearing up and shaking him. His grip was tightening and his jagged fingernails dug into Evans shoulders.

“PLEASE YOU MUST! PLEASE-

The forgotten sleeping man raised his head (he truly seemed to have been part of the couch). “Chill out man, you’re killing the vibe. Have a beer or something and stop tweakin’ out.” He then laid his head back and seemingly fell asleep.

The man stopped, his jaw agape. He let go of Evan and brushed off his robe.

“You must forgive me, I was pulled from my work. It is imperative that I return to finish it.”

Finally Evan found the words, “Yeah… ok sure. I can do that for you man…”

The old man smiled, “Before that, however, do you have any PBR?

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AutoModerator t1_j6mqatm wrote

Reply to [WP] An entire city was wiped off the map by a disaster that took 100,000 lives. They were then all reincarnated in a fantasy realm as various species, with full memories intact. Yes: This is the story of a City-Wide Isekai. by FennecWF

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

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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AutoModerator t1_j6mprvi wrote

Reply to [WP]A vampire that selectively targets drug dealers and criminals because they know those people would be easy targets that wont warrant an investigation is confused to find out that the people of the city believe them to be some sort of vigilante that is ridding the city of crime. by flintoxicated

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

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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1