Be a Supporter!

Edits to post #25312474 by 24901miles

Back to Corrupt a wish!

Edited at 2014-11-27 21:35:01

At 11/27/14 08:22 PM, BrenTheMan wrote: I wish I could explore the universe.

Granted. A brilliant flash of light casts a shadow through the nearest window to you. You peer out that window and see a streak of lit smoke carved into the horizon like a scar in the world. The clouds overhead disperse and leaves on the treetops comply with the wind as a split second later the shock wave blasts through you. The window cracks horizontally, shaking in its pane. A paper thin film of smoke wisps out from the newly formed fissure.

You bolt to the ready. "@24901miles was been right" you think to yourself. "He saw this happening. This is my destiny."

Shirt. Pants. Socks. Shoes. Jacket. Car. In one perfectly executed sequence you exit your hone and pound down the stairs to start the engine. You rev, shift into drive, and pump the gas. Left. Left. Right. Bear left. Right. Straight. You're raving against time, blue and red lights on parallel streets are going the same way as you. All the other cars on the road are going the other way—all you see is a sea of headlights.

Pressing the gas pedal, you begin to snap out of this intense focus. Wiggling your foot, you realize you're wearing two left shoes. And that your socks are inside out. Your pants on backwards. "Are these even pants?" You wonder, feeling a breeze and the stiff circumference of a shirt collar against your crotch.

You peek over the rooftops and see the pillar of smoke slowly dissipating into the winds within a broader, darker column. Rounding a corner, you see the source of this smoke: a glowing impact crater billowing steam.

The rim of the bowl is surrounded by a few local police cruisers, officers silhouetted standing on hoods and roofs staring into the hole.

You roll up slowly, turn off the engine, exit the vehicle. You pace toward the edge, shielding your eyes from the burning light, and peer directly into the center.

Standing alone amongst the fires at the peak of a small black hill is a silver-white obelisk.

You take a step closer, the laces of your left shoe on your right foot catching beneath the sole of the one on your other. You topple down into the impact basin head first, rolling hundreds of feet into the hellfire below. It's hot like a sauna, but not uncomfortably so. It's dry like a desert, you can feel the sweat on your arms evaporating and leaving salt deposits around every pore.

You stand, coming face to face with this obelisk, looking deep into the eyes of your own dull reflection. It's almost six steps away from you, but you feel the looming immensity of this perfect Platonic solid peering deep into your form.

You step forward, once. Twice. A third step and everything immediately changes. The world blinks out of existence. Everything around you is white; the obelisk itself contains a bewildered Brendan staring back at you—an endless sea of energy.

Brendan takes one more step toward you? You—me? The object? His—your eyes grow wider as he approaches you. Your eyes. They had once been your eyes. Identity hasn't mattered to you in an eternity.

He places his hand upon your chest, your surface, your infinitely sensitive exterior. You feel your hand probing your smooth, cold surface in utter mammalian confusion. You feel your infinite mind connecting with the neurons in the hand of this ancient beast whose body you once inhabited. A tempest of memories, like a supernova within the infinite expanse of your mind, burns through the space of your consciousness.

You watch and begin to cry. You know what's coming next. You have lived this moment before. His fingers begin to crumble, burning from the structured radiation emanating from your white hot tissue. His eyes grew so wide that his eyelids gave way to the whites. His piercing scream grew loud as the skin on his cheeks stretched and his jaw tore down toward his neck. The pain in his face. The agony was unbearable. His arm had evaporated into the æther, shoulder imploded and smoldered like a burnt match. His neck was being erased now, and his lung. The blood in his heart began to boil. You knew it would be over soon.

You feel his consciousness merge into your own. He apologized to himself.

"Time to go" you think to yourself. You vanish to go to the next planet.

From the edge of the crater, a thin tear glistens on the cheek of Tom Fulp as he watches the obelisk collapse into the size of a pin, replaced only with darkness.

I wish I had free Starbucks coffee for life.

At 11/27/14 08:22 PM, BrenTheMan wrote: I wish I could explore the universe.

Granted. A brilliant flash of light casts a shadow through the nearest window to you. You peer out that window and see a streak of lit smoke carved into the horizon like a scar in the world. The clouds overhead disperse and leaves on the treetops comply with the wind as a split second later the shock wave blasts through you. The window cracks horizontally, shaking in its pane. A paper thin film of smoke wisps out from the newly formed fissure.

You bolt to the ready. "@24901miles was right" you think to yourself. "He saw this happening. This is my destiny."

Shirt. Pants. Socks. Shoes. Jacket. Car. In one perfectly executed sequence you exit your hone and pound down the stairs to start the engine. You rev, shift into drive, and pump the gas. Left. Left. Right. Bear left. Right. Straight. You're raving against time, blue and red lights on parallel streets are going the same way as you. All the other cars on the road are going the other way—all you see is a sea of headlights.

Pressing the gas pedal, you begin to snap out of this intense focus. Wiggling your foot, you realize you're wearing two left shoes. And that your socks are inside out. Your pants on backwards. "Are these even pants?" You wonder, feeling a breeze and the stiff circumference of a shirt collar against your crotch.

You peek over the rooftops and see the pillar of smoke slowly dissipating into the winds within a broader, darker column. Rounding a corner, you see the source of this smoke: a glowing impact crater billowing steam.

The rim of the bowl is surrounded by a few local police cruisers, officers silhouetted standing on hoods and roofs staring into the hole.

You roll up slowly, turn off the engine, exit the vehicle. You pace toward the edge, shielding your eyes from the burning light, and peer directly into the center.

Standing alone amongst the fires at the peak of a small black hill is a silver-white obelisk.

You take a step closer, the laces of your left shoe on your right foot catching beneath the sole of the one on your other. You topple down into the impact basin head first, rolling hundreds of feet into the hellfire below. It's hot like a sauna, but not uncomfortably so. It's dry like a desert, you can feel the sweat on your arms evaporating and leaving salt deposits around every pore.

You stand, coming face to face with this obelisk, looking deep into the eyes of your own dull reflection. It's almost six steps away from you, but you feel the looming immensity of this perfect Platonic solid peering deep into your form.

You step forward, once. Twice. A third step and everything immediately changes. The world blinks out of existence. Everything around you is white; the obelisk itself contains a bewildered Brendan staring back at you—an endless sea of energy.

Brendan takes one more step toward you? You—me? The object? His—your eyes grow wider as he approaches you. Your eyes. They had once been your eyes. Identity hasn't mattered to you in an eternity.

He places his hand upon your chest, your surface, your infinitely sensitive exterior. You feel your hand probing your smooth, cold surface in utter mammalian confusion. You feel your infinite mind connecting with the neurons in the hand of this ancient beast whose body you once inhabited. A tempest of memories, like a supernova within the infinite expanse of your mind, burns through the space of your consciousness.

You watch and begin to cry. You know what's coming next. You have lived this moment before. His fingers begin to crumble, burning from the structured radiation emanating from your white hot tissue. His eyes grew so wide that his eyelids gave way to the whites. His piercing scream grew loud as the skin on his cheeks stretched and his jaw tore down toward his neck. The pain in his face. The agony was unbearable. His arm had evaporated into the æther, shoulder imploded and smoldered like a burnt match. His neck was being erased now, and his lung. The blood in his heart began to boil. You knew it would be over soon.

You feel his consciousness merge into your own. He apologized to himself.

"Time to go" you think to yourself. You vanish to go to the next planet.

From the edge of the crater, a thin tear glistens on the cheek of Tom Fulp as he watches the obelisk collapse into the size of a pin, replaced only with darkness.

I wish I had free Starbucks coffee for life.

Edited at 2014-11-27 21:34:19

At 11/27/14 08:22 PM, BrenTheMan wrote: I wish I could explore the universe.

Granted. A brilliant flash of light casts a shadow through the nearest window to you. You peer out that window and see a streak of lit smoke carved into the horizon like a scar in the world. The clouds overhead disperse and leaves on the treetops comply with the wind as a split second later the shock wave blasts through you. The window cracks horizontally, shaking in its pane. A paper thin film of smoke wisps out from the newly formed fissure.

You bolt to the ready. "@24901miles was been right" you think to yourself. "He saw this happening. This is my destiny."

Shirt. Pants. Socks. Shoes. Jacket. Car. In one perfectly executed sequence you exit your hone and pound down the stairs to start the engine. You rev, shift into drive, and pump the gas. Left. Left. Right. Bear left. Right. Straight. You're raving against time, blue and red lights on parallel streets are going the same way as you. All the other cars on the road are going the other way—all you see is a sea of headlights.

Pressing the gas pedal, you begin to snap out of this intense focus. Wiggling your foot, you realize you're wearing two left shoes. And that your socks are inside out. Your pants on backwards. "Are these even pants?" You wonder, feeling a breeze and the stiff circumference of a shirt collar against your crotch.

You peek over the rooftops and see the pillar of smoke slowly dissipating into the winds within a broader, darker column. Rounding a corner, you see the source of this smoke: a glowing impact crater billowing steam.

The rim of the bowl is surrounded by a few local police cruisers, officers silhouetted standing on hoods and roofs staring into the hole.

You roll up slowly, turn off the engine, exit the vehicle. You pace toward the edge, shielding your eyes from the burning light, and peer directly into the center.

Standing alone amongst the fires at the peak of a small black hill is a silver-white obelisk.

You take a step closer, the laces of your left shoe on your right foot catching beneath the sole of the one on your other. You topple down into the impact basin head first, rolling hundreds of feet into the hellfire below. It's hot like a sauna, but not uncomfortably so. It's dry like a desert, you can feel the sweat on your arms evaporating and leaving salt deposits around every pore.

You stand, coming face to face with this obelisk, looking deep into the eyes of your own dull reflection. It's almost six steps away from you, but you feel the looming immensity of this perfect Platonic solid peering deep into your form.

You step forward, once. Twice. A third step and everything immediately changes. The world blinks out of existence. Everything around you is white; the obelisk itself contains a bewildered Brendan staring back at you—an endless sea of energy.

Brendan takes one more step toward you? You—me? The object? His—your eyes grow wider as he approaches you. Your eyes. They had once been your eyes. Identity hasn't mattered to you in an eternity.

He places his hand upon your chest, your surface, your infinitely sensitive exterior. You feel your hand probing your smooth, cold surface in utter mammalian confusion. You feel your infinite mind connecting with the neurons in the hand of this ancient beast whose body you once inhabited. A tempest of memories, like a supernova within the infinite expanse of your mind, burns through the space of your consciousness.

You watch and begin to cry. You know what's coming next. You have lived this moment before. His fingers begin to crumble, burning from the structured radiation emanating from your white hot tissue. His eyes grew so wide that his eyelids gave way to the whites. His piercing scream grew loud as the skin on his cheeks stretched and his jaw tore down toward his neck. The pain in his face. The agony was unbearable. His arm had evaporated into the æther, shoulder imploded and smoldered like a burnt match. His neck was being erased now, and his lung. The blood in his heart began to boil. You knew it would be over soon.

You feel his consciousness merge into your own. He apologized to himself.

"Time to go" you think to yourself. You vanish to go to the next planet.

From the edge if the crater, a thin tear glistens on the cheek of Tom Fulp as he watches the obelisk collapse into the size of a pin, replaced only with darkness.

I wish I had free Starbucks coffee for life.

At 11/27/14 08:22 PM, BrenTheMan wrote: I wish I could explore the universe.

Granted. A brilliant flash of light casts a shadow through the nearest window to you. You peer out that window and see a streak of lit smoke carved into the horizon like a scar in the world. The clouds overhead disperse and leaves on the treetops comply with the wind as a split second later the shock wave blasts through you. The window cracks horizontally, shaking in its pane. A paper thin film of smoke wisps out from the newly formed fissure.

You bolt to the ready. "@24901miles was been right" you think to yourself. "He saw this happening. This is my destiny."

Shirt. Pants. Socks. Shoes. Jacket. Car. In one perfectly executed sequence you exit your hone and pound down the stairs to start the engine. You rev, shift into drive, and pump the gas. Left. Left. Right. Bear left. Right. Straight. You're raving against time, blue and red lights on parallel streets are going the same way as you. All the other cars on the road are going the other way—all you see is a sea of headlights.

Pressing the gas pedal, you begin to snap out of this intense focus. Wiggling your foot, you realize you're wearing two left shoes. And that your socks are inside out. Your pants on backwards. "Are these even pants?" You wonder, feeling a breeze and the stiff circumference of a shirt collar against your crotch.

You peek over the rooftops and see the pillar of smoke slowly dissipating into the winds within a broader, darker column. Rounding a corner, you see the source of this smoke: a glowing impact crater billowing steam.

The rim of the bowl is surrounded by a few local police cruisers, officers silhouetted standing on hoods and roofs staring into the hole.

You roll up slowly, turn off the engine, exit the vehicle. You pace toward the edge, shielding your eyes from the burning light, and peer directly into the center.

Standing alone amongst the fires at the peak of a small black hill is a silver-white obelisk.

You take a step closer, the laces of your left shoe on your right foot catching beneath the sole of the one on your other. You topple down into the impact basin head first, rolling hundreds of feet into the hellfire below. It's hot like a sauna, but not uncomfortably so. It's dry like a desert, you can feel the sweat on your arms evaporating and leaving salt deposits around every pore.

You stand, coming face to face with this obelisk, looking deep into the eyes of your own dull reflection. It's almost six steps away from you, but you feel the looming immensity of this perfect Platonic solid peering deep into your form.

You step forward, once. Twice. A third step and everything immediately changes. The world blinks out of existence. Everything around you is white; the obelisk itself contains a bewildered Brendan staring back at you—an endless sea of energy.

Brendan takes one more step toward you? You—me? The object? His—your eyes grow wider as he approaches you. Your eyes. They had once been your eyes. Identity hasn't mattered to you in an eternity.

He places his hand upon your chest, your surface, your infinitely sensitive exterior. You feel your hand probing your smooth, cold surface in utter mammalian confusion. You feel your infinite mind connecting with the neurons in the hand of this ancient beast whose body you once inhabited. A tempest of memories, like a supernova within the infinite expanse of your mind, burns through the space of your consciousness.

You watch and begin to cry. You know what's coming next. You have lived this moment before. His fingers begin to crumble, burning from the structured radiation emanating from your white hot tissue. His eyes grew so wide that his eyelids gave way to the whites. His piercing scream grew loud as the skin on his cheeks stretched and his jaw tore down toward his neck. The pain in his face. The agony was unbearable. His arm had evaporated into the æther, shoulder imploded and smoldered like a burnt match. His neck was being erased now, and his lung. The blood in his heart began to boil. You knew it would be over soon.

You feel his consciousness merge into your own. He apologized to himself.

"Time to go" you think to yourself. You vanish to go to the next planet.

From the edge of the crater, a thin tear glistens on the cheek of Tom Fulp as he watches the obelisk collapse into the size of a pin, replaced only with darkness.

I wish I had free Starbucks coffee for life.

Edited at 2014-11-27 21:33:08

At 11/27/14 08:22 PM, BrenTheMan wrote: I wish I could explore the universe.

Granted. A brilliant flash of light casts a shadow through the nearest window to you. You peer out that window and see a streak of lit smoke carved into the horizon like a scar in the world. The clouds overhead disperse and leaves on the treetops comply with the wind as a split second later the shock wave blasts through you. The window cracks horizontally, shaking in its pane. A paper thin film of smoke wisps out from the newly formed fissure.

You bolt to the ready. "@24901miles was been right" you think to yourself. "He saw this happening. This is my destiny."

Shirt. Pants. Socks. Shoes. Jacket. Car. In one perfectly executed sequence you exit your hone and pound down the stairs to start the engine. You rev, shift into drive, and pump the gas. Left. Left. Right. Bear left. Right. Straight. You're raving against time, blue and red lights on parallel streets are going the same way as you. All the other cars on the road are going the other way—all you see is a sea of headlights.

Pressing the gas pedal, you begin to snap out of this intense focus. Wiggling your foot, you realize you're wearing two left shoes. And that your socks are inside out. Your pants on backwards. "Are these even pants?" You wonder, feeling a breeze and the stiff circumference of a shirt collar against your crotch.

You peek over the rooftops and see the pillar of smoke slowly dissipating into the winds within a broader, darker column. Rounding a corner, you see the source of this smoke: a glowing impact crater billowing steam.

The rim of the bowl is surrounded by a few local police cruisers, officers silhouetted standing on hoods and roofs staring into the hole.

You roll up slowly, turn off the engine, exit the vehicle. You pace toward the edge, shielding your eyes from the burning light, and peer directly into the center.

Standing alone amongst the fires at the peak of a small black hill is a silver-white obelisk.

You take a step closer, the laces of your left shoe on your right foot catching beneath the sole of the one on your other. You topple down into the impact basin head first, rolling hundreds of feet into the hellfire below. It's hot like a sauna, but not uncomfortably so. It's dry like a desert, you can feel the sweat on your arms evaporating and leaving salt deposits around every pore.

You stand, coming face to face with this obelisk, looking deep into the eyes of your own dull reflection. It's almost six steps away from you, but you feel the looming immensity of this perfect Platonic solid peering deep into your form.

You step forward, once. Twice. A third step and everything immediately changes. The world blinks out of existence. Everything around you is white; the obelisk itself contains a bewildered Brendon staring back at you—an endless sea of energy.

Brendon takes one more step toward you? You—me? The object? His—your eyes grow wider as he approaches you. Your eyes. They had once been your eyes. Identity hasn't mattered to you in an eternity.

He places his hand upon your chest, your surface, your infinitely sensitive exterior. You feel your hand probing your smooth, cold surface in utter mammalian confusion. You feel your infinite mind connecting with the neurons in the hand of this ancient beast whose body you once inhabited. A tempest of memories, like a supernova within the infinite expanse of your mind, burns through the space of your consciousness.

You watch and begin to cry. You know what's coming next. You have lived this moment before. His fingers begin to crumble, burning from the structured radiation emanating from your white hot tissue. His eyes grew so wide that his eyelids gave way to the whites. His piercing scream grew loud as the skin on his cheeks stretched and his jaw tore down toward his neck. The pain in his face. The agony was unbearable. His arm had evaporated into the æther, shoulder imploded and smoldered like a burnt match. His neck was being erased now, and his lung. The blood in his heart began to boil. You knew it would be over soon.

You feel his consciousness merge into your own. He apologized to himself.

"Time to go" you think to yourself. You vanish to go to the next planet.

From the edge if the crater, a thin tear glistens on the cheek of Tom Fulp as he watches the obelisk collapse into the size of a pin, replaced only with darkness.

I wish I had free Starbucks coffee for life.

At 11/27/14 08:22 PM, BrenTheMan wrote: I wish I could explore the universe.

Granted. A brilliant flash of light casts a shadow through the nearest window to you. You peer out that window and see a streak of lit smoke carved into the horizon like a scar in the world. The clouds overhead disperse and leaves on the treetops comply with the wind as a split second later the shock wave blasts through you. The window cracks horizontally, shaking in its pane. A paper thin film of smoke wisps out from the newly formed fissure.

You bolt to the ready. "@24901miles was been right" you think to yourself. "He saw this happening. This is my destiny."

Shirt. Pants. Socks. Shoes. Jacket. Car. In one perfectly executed sequence you exit your hone and pound down the stairs to start the engine. You rev, shift into drive, and pump the gas. Left. Left. Right. Bear left. Right. Straight. You're raving against time, blue and red lights on parallel streets are going the same way as you. All the other cars on the road are going the other way—all you see is a sea of headlights.

Pressing the gas pedal, you begin to snap out of this intense focus. Wiggling your foot, you realize you're wearing two left shoes. And that your socks are inside out. Your pants on backwards. "Are these even pants?" You wonder, feeling a breeze and the stiff circumference of a shirt collar against your crotch.

You peek over the rooftops and see the pillar of smoke slowly dissipating into the winds within a broader, darker column. Rounding a corner, you see the source of this smoke: a glowing impact crater billowing steam.

The rim of the bowl is surrounded by a few local police cruisers, officers silhouetted standing on hoods and roofs staring into the hole.

You roll up slowly, turn off the engine, exit the vehicle. You pace toward the edge, shielding your eyes from the burning light, and peer directly into the center.

Standing alone amongst the fires at the peak of a small black hill is a silver-white obelisk.

You take a step closer, the laces of your left shoe on your right foot catching beneath the sole of the one on your other. You topple down into the impact basin head first, rolling hundreds of feet into the hellfire below. It's hot like a sauna, but not uncomfortably so. It's dry like a desert, you can feel the sweat on your arms evaporating and leaving salt deposits around every pore.

You stand, coming face to face with this obelisk, looking deep into the eyes of your own dull reflection. It's almost six steps away from you, but you feel the looming immensity of this perfect Platonic solid peering deep into your form.

You step forward, once. Twice. A third step and everything immediately changes. The world blinks out of existence. Everything around you is white; the obelisk itself contains a bewildered Brendan staring back at you—an endless sea of energy.

Brendan takes one more step toward you? You—me? The object? His—your eyes grow wider as he approaches you. Your eyes. They had once been your eyes. Identity hasn't mattered to you in an eternity.

He places his hand upon your chest, your surface, your infinitely sensitive exterior. You feel your hand probing your smooth, cold surface in utter mammalian confusion. You feel your infinite mind connecting with the neurons in the hand of this ancient beast whose body you once inhabited. A tempest of memories, like a supernova within the infinite expanse of your mind, burns through the space of your consciousness.

You watch and begin to cry. You know what's coming next. You have lived this moment before. His fingers begin to crumble, burning from the structured radiation emanating from your white hot tissue. His eyes grew so wide that his eyelids gave way to the whites. His piercing scream grew loud as the skin on his cheeks stretched and his jaw tore down toward his neck. The pain in his face. The agony was unbearable. His arm had evaporated into the æther, shoulder imploded and smoldered like a burnt match. His neck was being erased now, and his lung. The blood in his heart began to boil. You knew it would be over soon.

You feel his consciousness merge into your own. He apologized to himself.

"Time to go" you think to yourself. You vanish to go to the next planet.

From the edge if the crater, a thin tear glistens on the cheek of Tom Fulp as he watches the obelisk collapse into the size of a pin, replaced only with darkness.

I wish I had free Starbucks coffee for life.