Short Story
Just Dropped In To See What Simulation My Simulation Was In
“Do you think they'll figure it out?” “Let’s review what we've learned so far, in the most general way.” “Hm. Okay. We created a simulation and populated it with creatures much like what we know of our primitive selves.”
By C. Rommial Butler2 years ago in Fiction
Obsession (Part 1)
Action Women's Wrestling, a promotion that has been in existence for 23 years, has seen many stars enter and shine in the time they've existed. One such star, who has been competing in AWW for six years, is Valerie Price, and she's been serving as one of AWW's most popular stars. Recently, Valerie has had quite a few interesting feuds in her time in AWW, but this one seems to take the cake. In the last three months, Valerie has been pursued by the Countess, a villainess in a black bodysuit and a full mask, who appears to know Valerie very well.
By Clyde E. Dawkins2 years ago in Fiction
A$AP Rocky dives into Rihanna’s arms as not guilty verdict is read at felony assault trial
On February 18, 2025, the Los Angeles courtroom was filled with an air of palpable tension as the jury delivered their final verdict in the highly anticipated felony assault trial of rapper A$AP Rocky. The charges against him stemmed from an alleged shooting incident in November 2021, where Rocky was accused of firing a semi-automatic firearm at his former friend, A$AP Relli, during a heated altercation. As the verdict was read aloud, the courtroom was electrified with emotions, and Rocky was exonerated after being found not guilty on all counts. This monumental decision not only cleared Rocky of the felony assault charges but also highlighted the strength of his personal relationships, particularly his unwavering connection with his partner, global superstar Rihanna.
By Arean Ahamad2 years ago in Fiction
The Midnight Rickshaw: A Journey Through Shadows and Stories
The Midnight Rickshaw: A Journey Through Shadows and Stories Living and DyingAfter many years of survival, I was going to the village; the train was late. When I got down at the station, I saw that the last bus had left; it was nine o'clock at night; it was about 10:00 o'clock, six miles away. I did not know what to do; a few cycle rickshaws were parked; they were whitewashed; no one agreed to go that far at night. Then I got frustrated and went to a tea shop to drink tea. At that time, a thin, Hargil-looking man wearing half pants and a torn vest suddenly came and said, Sir, what Risco Wewas are looking for? Where to go? Yes, Wiwillogo too. Domohani. It'll take you to the Chanditala. Papassengerapage will drop you on the way. Look at that! y Rixo Jujumpediwithojoy. I turned my neck and saw a rickshaw standing under the tree a little distance away. Rickshaw awash, standing under the tree, a little light falling on the leaves of the trees. Punjabi Dhoti Clad Like Fish Scales The man in the Punjabi dhoti seems to be an old man. There Is A Bag In His Lap There is a bag in his lap. He is sitting quietly eating the rickshaw. Puller Went Away I didn't want to talk about rent; I was never in such a state of restlessness. The station is in such an inedible place, the market or miles away; even if I can get shelter at night, there is no service. The tea seller looked at my face, so far he said, Sir, do not go to the rickshaw of Ohi; rather, go to the temple of the lion. There is a dharamshala. I know that if I want to stay in a Hindu temple or in a dharamshala, caste is not possible; that lie is not possible. So I said, Stay, but what is the harm if you go to his rickshaw? Chawla said in a strained voice, Ah, I am saying that you are a new person. Ohid Rickshaw Mara Boy Mora Boy, I understand very well. Chorda Work No No Loh Very good, but you are a faulty guy. Kshaw is dead, boy, so no one will go to the rickshaw. Do not press the dead boy rickshaw at night. I was in great danger once, knowing that the daughter's father-in-law was coming from Harkrishnapur. There was a little talk with Beyan, so the Ohid rickshawwala came and chased him. Come, sir, the night is increasing. Then I got up. Chawla must have wanted to tell a ghost story, interrupted, and sat with a gloomy face. My companion sat with his eyes closed; it seemed he was sleeping. Many people have a habit. I am not in the habit of talking to anyone. The rickshaw is moving slowly. la is not a strong, capable Joan; it was noticed by his appearance. After a while, the broken moon of the black fortnight rose and spread light. At these times in the world, sleep comes naturally on the way to this lonely night, but it is not necessary to keep the senses awake, not because of the fear of ghosts, but because of the fear of thieves and robbers, I thought, Let's talk to the rickshaw driver, so I said, Oh, your name is Ohid, yes? Where do you live?First, on the other side of the station in Harinmara Gopara, he tells us. He looked up at the sky and took a deep breath, then turned his neck to see the moon and said that the big tree is one. One is post offices, police stations, and hospitals—everything is there. Then he started giving a rough geographical, historical, political, and economic account of his village. My attraction towards the man increased. This was about the mile, then Bemka laughed and said,Well, I heard you or you will die this matter.Ohid stopped the pedal and turned to me and said with a strange smile,Netda said that Netda is very naughty. I am breaking my passenger. Let's hang out in the place. Let's play five chats. Friends, people, sir, if you wish, let's go to my car. If you don't want to. Go to and think about what I said busily as a ruin. No, I will die. What happened to it? Oh, pressed the pedal slowly and said that behind the station, Mother Ganga dies in many places. There I am dead. What is the fault? Say the fault. I get three times the fare. Why will the living passenger take me with me? But if the dead flow, many virtuous dead people go to heaven. Who already knows? If you know, it is good if you have sinned. Some of them also do not get into heaven tied to hell. Wahid is happy with my words, then see. But do you know the real thing, sir? Dead Boa is not an easy task; it is not to be done by all the rickshaw pullers at the station; would anyone have peace? Yes, if they could, everyone would have gotten three times more money for the book, but they are jealous of not opening the murder, so I understand first. Yes, it is not easy to turn the rickshaw pedal with a dead passenger. Didn't you try inside? No one knows everything; Dad couldn't. Once Govardhan sat quietly dead in the case of sand. The next morning I saw Rixo lying upside down in the water of Naina Julie. What about the dead interest scam, Govardhan? Govardhan jumped out of the begging seat and ran away, so he moved away when he saw him dead. Tadead. Oh, oh, oh, how can you die? Say, I heard Ohid suddenly became serious after a while. He said, I am dead myself. That means, what do you mean, the dead book? Because once you gave me the house, you know the house. What did he say again? He is very sad. Sir, I had hair in my stomach. I was admitted to Sadar Hospital. There is a separate room on one side of the hospital. If the patient dies or if he dies, leave him in the house and say that Jan left me in that room. Doctor Babu, tell me what then. Doctor Babu could not find my pulse. He died eating before God ruined that every morning. My wife goes to check on me and abuses me. If you are lying in the hospital like this, the family people go to the boy who is dying in the pool, and the wife was suffering from heavy injuries. Every day she used to come and say that Mince was too lazy to pull the rickshaw, so Michi was lying in the hospital at the time. The wife used to go and abuse me every day. The wife became more agitated when she heard me in the house, brought a broom from the house, and went to the door of the house. He went and shouted that Nekami did not get the place, get up, get up, I am reading, and here we are not dying by fasting, get up, we will shake the skin of the back, saying that I got that in a hurry, ruined; my wife did not see, sir. Then I could see what happened. I was turning the rickshaw pedal after seeing the moon again. I knew the dead who ran away from the house. Why should I be afraid of dying? [music] Tell me, he smiled strangely. This time I could see one side of his face up to one eye, VK Xhosa blue sparkling eyes. What a living man made me shudder. Suddenly, I saw that my companion passenger also moved a little and laughed properly in the throat, opened his eyes, and said in fear, What happened? Why is he laughing? Laughing? a heavy voice, who is aliveWho is dead? Is it dead? Difficult to understand, understand. iHe me, tell me me.Tell them not alive or dead, this idea. These dead do not speak; you speak. You because sister is talking, you talking. You, whether she is crazy or I said that you think you are dead, what dead. What, mister? You're dead; what idea? What is that? As he ran away from the house, I also shouted. the house today for fear of his wife's broom. I have broomed away from you. You know that. You have also run away in fear of the wife, the gewife. Atheang laughed loudly and said, No, I said,No, I have a wife, then two wives. Then he is afraid of the doctor; the doctor has just died. You braided. me with a phone to cut me into pieces. Tell me the postmortem. I'm right. The knife you brought to my chest, I jumped up and pushed the doctor Babu, who shouted, Catch him! The dead are running away! I get paid, fathers, and forget not in the hospital. Ohid nodded and said, Never, not because I died. The lesson was that the gentleman stopped laughing and turned to me and said, Let's hear yours. Let's say, what am I ashamed of? What does the miscreant print silver, and what is the benefit? Tell me there is no living person here. Tell me openly how you are. Hey. The problem is that I did not even go to the hospital; I was not even admitted to your funeral or the corpse-cutting room. I am going, after many years, to see the birthplace. The gentleman threatens to be clever; we do not know the dead; do not tell the father; he knew the sir; otherwise, why would I make it and do it? He got angry and said that I am not dead, Chanta man; do not press the pulse, the gentleman said with a serious face. Yes, Ohid, then what did you do wrong? Baba Ohid said loudly, I may be wrong. 'No, I've been dead for so long,' said the gentleman, holding out his hand, letting me see your pulse. He grabbed my hand between his wrists and felt how cold it was, like ice. The look in the eyes was blurred; the eyes of those two were blue in the water. He jumped out of the moving tree; he got up after eating the achar, and then he ran without looking in the direction; they started shouting from behind, Catch him! Run away! Run away! Running at the station light, gasping for breath, when he reached the tea shop, the wise Chhaona smiled and said, Calm, then forbade it. He heard that he went straight to Dharamshala; he will leave in the morning.
By ANIMESH BHOWMICK2 years ago in Fiction
Fate/Choice. Top Story - February 2025.
Swarmed by the crazed horde, Murphy and I were both taken prisoner before we had the chance to blink. I tried to fight, but my arms were being held down with so much force I feared they would break if I strained them. It was useless. They were too strong, too mean, and too many.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
"Severance Package". Top Story - February 2025.
He's clacking again. He's always clacking. Silly little man. I can hear him, even here, at the other side of the house, beneath this thick layer of stone. Clack clack clack I know what he's doing. Oh, yes. He thinks I don't know. Fool. He thinks me old, set in my ways, and distrustful of new gadgets. And so I am... but I am not stupid. He underestimates me. He is job seeking. That's what he is doing. He is going to leave me. And why not? Everyone does, soon or late. Oh, don't think I say it for pity. You know unto which cavity you can shove that. No, I'm just realistic. When you live exist this long, everyone leaves. That's just how it is. He's connected to the bloody Inter Net. I can hear it whirring, like so many tiny bats, flying about with their little messages and bits of information. He's gone on this Inter Net, and he's Goggled "new jobs nere me" or something like that. He has applied to these jobs. He has sent prospective employers Electric Letters, on the back of one of those tiny bats. I know a thing or two about this process. I know he will need a Reference. I lay here, arms crossed on my chest, like so, and I wondered whether I should do him this great service. Perhaps not. Then he would not get a new job, and he would have to stay here. Don't think me soft, or sentimental. I am not. I don't want him to stay because of some childish fondness. I'll grant you, he is somewhat useful. Remember, though, humans who wish for immortality are ten a penny. I could replace him quickly. The promise of it keeps them going for a long time. It's true that you do grow used to people. He has grown accustomed to the way I like things done, and I, too, have grown used to his way of doing things. But there is this: to someone like me, who lives so long, what is a year, or five, or ten? A blink only. It would be tiresome to start anew, but hardly an insurmountable undertaking. I thought all these things, my mind going to and fro on whether to help him in his new adventure, much though it may inconvenience me... Then I saw the depth of his plotting. More phones! He will be giving himself references! He has even invented companies and created websites. The whole enterprise has demonstrated a level of cunning and industry I had hardly expected of him. I hope he has applied for a job working with these new machines. He might not do terribly in such a role. Here is something he does not know: I have been doing some clacking of my own. Such clever creatures, humans are, they have made replicas of themselves. These replicas look human, but they aren't. Rather like me. They do as they are told unfailingly, as long as one is precise in giving the instruction. This would cut down on the time for training and getting used to a new familiar. Like me, the replica would be unchanging. I have ordered one. I will give my faithless familiar some time off to reward him for such loyal service. He will be thrilled. No doubt this will make it easier for him to attend interviews without looking like grey dog doings that have been reheated. My new, mechanical familiar will arrive while he is gone. My neighbour will take delivery off it for me, and I will collect it after sundown. I see no flaws in this plan. I will let my idiot manservant go, but perhaps I will unpack his replacement and set it to work before be leaves. Just to see the look on his face. Or, perhaps I will arrange a severance package for him. Here you will have to imagine a sinister, even maniacal laugh. Typing "ahahaha!" doesn't really do the trick, no matter how many exclamation marks one uses. Keep clacking little man.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
A Eulogy for Pully Jenkins Pully grew up to be a Hotlung, to the surprise of no one among his family and friends. The work was good: he'd receive a commission on every questionable package someone in town needed delivered, and he'd get to see all of the city instead of just the smoke stacks and factory floor his family all called home. Every morning after he got the courier's license Pully sprang out of bed and was out with his link turned on ready to take whatever job came in first. There is a void in the community now losing a young man on his way to better things, and as such we as a community pay the price.
By R.R. Stephenson2 years ago in Fiction
The Quest for the Perfect Hairline: A Journey Through Hair Restoration
Once upon a time, in a world where confidence was often tied to appearance, hair loss became a silent adversary for many. It didn’t discriminate—men and women alike found themselves staring into the mirror, wondering how to reclaim what time, genetics, or stress had taken away. For those seeking a solution, the question was always the same: How many grafts do I need for a hair transplant?
By CEO A&S Developers2 years ago in Fiction
The Wage Slave’s Manifesto 1. AI-Generated.
Chapter 1: The Grind: ### **Setting the Stage** The story opens in **New Corinth**, a sprawling metropolis in the **United Corporate States of America (UCSA)**. The year is **2047**, and the nation has devolved into a hyper-capitalist dystopia. Corporations have replaced governments, labor laws are nonexistent, and citizens are ranked by their **Corporate Credit Score (CCS)** — a number that determines their access to housing, healthcare, and even basic dignity.
By Ethan Cole2 years ago in Fiction
