So for my first blog post, I had no idea what to do, so I browsed my bookmarks and decided “hey, let’s try looking through my /r/WritingPrompts history.”

There’s this thing called Reddit, okay? It’s a pretty nice place. Anyway, here lays a subreddit called /r/WritingPrompts.

So for my first blog post, I had no idea what to do, so I browsed my bookmarks and decided “hey, let’s try looking through my /r/WritingPrompts history.” Not as easy as it sounds. Reddit is designed for quality content, not individual people.

My job was made easier when I used this Google search.

“CallMeAdam2” site:reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts

This is a few stories of mine I could find.

You are a vigilante who was inspired by the phrase “Liar, liar, pants on fire”.

What makes a liar? Some would say a liar is he who speaks not the truth. I do not believe it is as simple as that, for a liar, given enough persuasion, will tell the truth. Yet it often takes the realistic threatening of the liar’s well-being at large to bring the truth from those lips. Why would a liar go to such lengths to conceal the truth?

The answer seems to be in the pride of the liar. I could feel it in me as I lied to my colleagues, who, unbeknownst to me, knew the truth, and replied with the childish phrase “liar liar, pants on fire.” My regrets are profound. Half of my regrets are in the form of pride; the other half, morals. I have vowed to right the world of lies.

When you see me in the night sky, know that I am here to cleanse the city of liars. Know that Truther will make them speak of the reality, youth or not.

We have finally rid the world of mosquitos. Turns out, they actually did serve a purpose…

“There you have it, nerds. Mosquitoes have a purpose vital to our survival and the lives you take for granted.” A student puts his hand up, to which I point, granting him permission to speak. Most teachers have students who speak over them. Some teachers have students who yell over them. I have students that dare not make a peep, even while I’m gone.

The student opens his mouth to speak, when something falls into it. His eyes grow wide and he spits the thing out. Wiping his tongue with his hands as the rest of the class looks from their chairs, I laugh and ask “fly got your tongue?” He smiles and replies “mosquito.” Everyone laughs at this coincidence.


The final bell rings, I walk home, but I feel different. It feels as though the world is different. It started soon after his class ended. Then I notice that no one is speaking on these sidewalks. The only sounds are those of the passing vehicles. No one even honks.

Then I notice Francis passing, and find myself not wanting to speak. This is odd, because there is no reason I shouldn’t make small talk with a good friend. At the last moment the only thing I could come up with to say and did so was “you feel it?” I’m not sure why. Now that I acknowledged it, I did feel something. Something wild. Untamed. Unpredictable. Intimidatingly powerful.

It took Francis a moment to reply with “yes, I think everyone does. Notice the mosquitoes?” “What about the mosquitoes?” I ask, thinking back to the lesson I taught. It had to be a coincidence. Francis puts that theory away when she replies “they all died at once.”

My spines tingles and I become short of breath. I hope no students see me in my current state of weak-in-the-knees. “They did it,” I whisper. “They went ahead with it… even after I proved to them the dangerous reality of magic.” My vision slowly fades to black as I hear Francis saying something to me mixed with the distant sound of explosions, like those of bombs.

You were the ONE THOUSANDTH VISITOR of that website, and you just wanted to claim your free iPad. Despite all warnings, you didn’t expect things to escalate THAT quickly…

“Oh, awesome,” I say to myself quietly. According to this website, I’m the one thousandth visitor. As a reward, it is offering me a free iPad. I was planning on turning the computer off for the night, as the bright light felt burning on my eyes in this dark.

My computer was audibly chugging, struggling to run this website, which is very unusual for this very expensive machine. It was designed to run anything I’d ever want. More gigabytes of RAM than anyone last year could hope for.

I brushed it off in my excitement for my new iPad 11th gen. Since generation 10, Apple’s had a huge change in people and attitude. Generation 10 was the most powerful yet for mobile devices before the iPad 11th gen, which is far too expensive for my current financial situation.

Disregarding the obvious stupidity of my action I was about to perform, I clicked the claim button. I waited for a moment, then my computer went silent as it should’ve been from the beginning. The website didn’t do anything more. It didn’t ask me for my address, email, nothing. Silence. I wait for a minute. Of course this is a scam. My antivirus probably blocked something. Never trust anything on the deep web.

Then I hear a vehicle stop in my driveway. It’s not unusual for someone to drive by my house, but it is unusual for someone to stop by at this time of night. I put my computer to sleep and take a second to adjust my eyes to the sudden darkness. I get up, my sweaty ass feeling suddenly cold. I walk to my window and peek through the blinds into the world outside. My eyes are still adjusting, but I manage to see the outline of a dark van I don’t recognize.

As I wonder what’s going on, I’m knocked to the ground and my ears suddenly ring. What the fuck just happened, I ask myself silently. I get up, my ears still ringing and no other sound, and I feel someone violently push me back down to the ground, a solid object pushed against my head. Is that a gun? Am I being kidnapped?

I remain still like that for, what, five minutes? Twenty minutes? After a while, the person on top of me gets up, but keeps the gun pointed at my head. A while later, the ringing starts to stop, but I still can’t hear anything. I slowly bring my hands to my ears to check for blood, and sure as shit I feel what I can only assume is blood. Have I gone deaf? Did they blow my door down? I don’t understand why they would do that, but it sure as hell caught me by surprise. Thankfully, I don’t think they damaged me beyond my hearing.

I adjust myself to get more comfortable before I can stop myself and remember why I’m down here, but notice that the gun is fixed in place. I turn my head to look up and see a tripod holding the gun and no one in sight. My room is unrecognizably ruined and everything has been taken. I get up onto my feet and feel the pain of a thousand bad falls. The tripod has been bolted in place. These people were professionals and were only in it for my stuff. No doubt they raided my kitchen and everything else, judging by how not even my bed is left behind.

I walk painfully out of my bedroom and look down into the hole in the floor where my door used to be. Down in my kitchen is an 11th gen iPad.

You buy a deadly haunted house, little do the demons know you are an even older form of ancient evil.

I’m strolling through the noisy puddles, disgusted with the way the water feels in my shoes and the sound the rain makes. It’s a thing that I bought this horrendous house. It will get me out of this rain, and that’s all that matters: my comfort and gain.

As I enter this sad excuse for a structure, I spot the ragged front door lying on the shredded couch and I feel like puking. This is no home for someone as powerful as I.

I hear the sad sobs of a little girl echoing behind me. Any average pest would be chilled to the bone, I can tell, but this creature is messing with a pissed me. As I turn and see the pale figure of a pre-teen rush towards my face, screaming, I grab it by the throat and thunder my annoyance at it.

I’ve spent five minutes in the soaking rain, I enter my new, pathetic home, and this is how I’m treated.