Little wonder we stumble in life.

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Terrorist Space

Everyone hates terrorism, but are blind to stop it. What if you could stop it? Find out how the groups operate, and you could cut them off. But what are you willing to sacrifice to get there?

Crates of guns hijacked in the middle of an impoverished town. There are no roads here, just dirt that drifts into everything. Stone houses carved of mud, tin roofs.

Child soldiers. Middle aged leaders, looking to further their agenda with high-tech weapons. But I have my own weapons, and as soon as they step too close…

Bullets riddle the air, aimed towards the corrupt minds that pass for authority. The Children take aim at me, and I take cover behind my obstacle. I don’t shoot the children. I want to rehabilitate them. Perhaps that’s my weakness, but violence to end genocide has to be worth it.


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A New View

Space isn’t black but purple, the stars not white but burning yellow gold, flaring brightly behind heavily tinted glass, so that just their orbs are seen. Dark matter flows through and around them every fraction of a second, the speed of the smallest particles of the universe, that truly black stuff that makes up the universe, surrounding even this capsule, making up as much of the empty space between planets as it does down on Earth.

They said sending a vampire up into space didn’t make sense, that it was counterintuitive, but I worked hard to get here, and NASA worked even harder to create a shuttle that I could survive in and observe the universe in. And they were reaping the benefits most of all, because now that I had allowed them to discover dark matter, new breakthroughs on the subject are being made even now.

Right now, as I sat here, I was marking their movements as only my vampire eyes can.

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Makin’ Tofu


Today, we made Tofu in Food & Culture class. On the board was a simplistic version of the recipe, but unless you were there, you couldn’t really understand from that alone. So let me talk you through it.

When we first arrived in the class, each table had two big silver bowls of soybeans soaking in water. The first thing we did was drain those boils and add about 420ml of water. These went in the blender for about 3 minutes, and after that, the mixture went in pans. The heat came on, and the mixture stirred around.

Two bowls and strainers came out then, and a cloth placed over the strainers. When the mixture had thickened, and become heavier, two people held the cloth over the strainer to catch everything, and moisture dripped in a stream from the bottom into the strainer and bowl. Wooden spatulas were used to squeeze as much moisture as possible from the solid material, called okara, in the cloth. The okara was then put aside to be used in other recipes.



After that, water was put into a pot and a bowl placed on top. The mixture was poured inside, tested with a thermometer for a bit, and left to cook for 10 minutes, which thickened the mixture.

Then it was squeezed into a block and left to set.


After this, it was drained and flipped onto a plate. The tofu was done.


According to the teacher, there are two kinds of tofu, hard and soft. Although this wasn’t exactly hard, it was the harder form of tofu that exists. I had it with soy sauce and shavings. It was odd at first, but you adjust to the taste. Toppings help, though. They were needed, in my case.

Obviously, this isn’t an exact recipe. But just to give you a feeling for what it was like to make it, I wrote this.

If you want to make it yourself, you should probably look up the recipe.

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Fossilised Footprints

“I found something else over here,” she called, dusting the ancient ground away to uncover the evidence accompanying the bones.

Her fellows came over, looking over her shoulders to see what she found. There, beside the fallen Giraffatitan, was as set of small footprints, fossilised into the orange desert. But rather than naked animal prints, the dust soon cleared to reveal the lines and patterns of some workmate’s sneaker undersole.

“Damn time travellers!” she swore.

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Okay, so this may be irrelevant, but I recently played 20 Questions on a website called, because I’ve been watching a lot of vlogbrothers on Youtube and John and Hank played this game by having the site guess each other, and I wanted to do that too, but when I got there it said specific people weren’t allowed, so I chose something else instead:

You won, but 20Q guessed it eventually

How 20Q learns
Play Again

You were thinking of a eucalyptus tree.
Is it crunchy? You said Probably, 20Q was taught by other players that the answer is No.
Can it bend without breaking? You said Probably, 20Q was taught by other players that the answer is No.
Is it considered valuable? You said Maybe, 20Q was taught by other players that the answer is No.
Is it commonly used? You said Probably, 20Q was taught by other players that the answer is No.
Is it pleasurable? You said Probably, 20Q was taught by other players that the answer is No.
Is it something you can purchase? You said No, 20Q was taught by other players that the answer is Probably.
Does it weigh more than 1 tonne? You said Probably, 20Q was taught by other players that the answer is Doubtful.
Contradictions Detected
The opinions of the 20Q A.I. are its own, and are based on the input of players. 20Q’s answers reflect common knowledge. If you feel that 20Q is in error, the only way to correct it is to play again!
Similar Objects
a redwood tree, a sequoia tree, bristlecone pine (oldest), a forest, a rain forest, a pine tree, sugar cane, a blue spruce, paradise, a hemlock tree (evergreen), hemlock, a palm tree.

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The Letter

Dear Mom

Whenever you ask about my childhood, I’m never sure if you mean when I was a boy or a girl. For the first five years of my life, you raised me as if I was a girl, putting me in dresses and makeup, only showing me rom com movies, brushing my hair. But you never talk about those years anymore, and part of me thinks you’ve forgotten. But part of me thinks you’re ashamed of me from that time, that you’re ashamed of yourself for doing that to me.

But you’re still my mother, and I still love you. And it happened, it’s a part of my life, and I love the fact that it’s part of me, because I got to spend it with you.
So please, talk to me.

Your son,

He looked up from his letter, up into her eyes, searching. He saw guilt, and shame there.

“Was I right?” he asked. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“I never should’ve done that to you,” she said. “I wanted a girl so desperately, that I was willing to put your self-worth at stake to get one. I don’t think you remember how brutal the kids were at that age. The kids would make such fun of you that you would come into my arms and embrace you like a daughter, instead of putting an end to it right there.

“Besides, that child wasn’t really you. I was lying to myself back then. And seeing the man you’ve become makes me so proud of you. You’ve really grown into your true self.”

“I know I’m not that child. All I remember from those days is our relationship. I cherish those memories. I want to be able to share them with you sometimes. Please, mom.”

She sighed. “Alright, Josh.”

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There was something about the bright lights, the crowd, his smile before the camera, that creeped her out. Because she saw the darkness behind it, the darkness inside when she him bloody, bruised, swollen. When her own knuckles bled as she stared down at him lying at her feet, her eyebrows still drawn tight, her breaths coming in shallow and sharp.

He didn’t remember.

But she did. She didn’t think she’d ever forget. Now every day she was in the same room as him, she remembered. There was something tainted about him now. And she couldn’t say a word, about how much she hated him, about what she’d done. Because she worked with him. Because now, he was smiling, taking food, talking in a light tone. He was friendly. He had never been with her.

There had always been a hidden rage inside her that she kept well hidden. Nobody would ever suspect her. Not even him.

“Hey, Anya, you wanna dance?” he finally asked, walking up to her.

“Sure,” she said, her voice wavering uncertainly as she took his hand uncertainly.

They danced to some unknown club song, playing from someone’s personal speakers. She pretended to like it. She even gave him a fake smile, pretending to like him. But, she kept reminding herself, she could never get that close to him again.

Until he swooped in closer, and she almost fell over backwards, and he captured her in his arms. Her insidee were rioting, but she made herself remain still, remain calm.

“That was a close one,” said Timothy. He smiled, that disgusting, hypocritical smile.

“Yeah,” she managed, flinching under his touch. He straightened her to her feet and let go. She had to remind her she really didn’t like him, because she could feel his assumptions creeping up on her. Men like to tell you exactly what you like, and who you are. They like to pretend they’re desirable to everyone. “Thanks,” she said, a little spite creeping into her voice and flying right over his head.

She went immediately to her room.

He followed her. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. Go back to the party.”

“Only if you come with me.”

No, her mind reacted automatically. “I’ll be right there.”

“No, you won’t. Come on!”

He made it sound perfectly reasonable, but she knew it was anything but. It was times like this she wondered about that night, how or even if he really could’ve forgotten. It seemed so ludicrous.


“Is this about me?”


“Come on, I didn’t even touch you!”

“It doesn’t matter. I just need a moment.”

“Okay, but you got to promise you’ll come right back. I’m saving us a dance.”

“Okay,” she said, just to get him to shut up, and he went back to the party.

She didn’t even bother turning on the light when she got inside. Mind roiling in nightmares, she flopped down on her bed, tossing and turning to sleep.

A touch on her shoulder shuddered her awake, and she twisted his wrist hard, sending its owner sprawling to the ground. Even when she heard his screams, she couldn’t stop, separating his arm from the socket. Blood flashed in her mind again, and it sent her fist flying into his face, defending herself from the intruder.

“It’s me, it’s me!” he cried, until another punch collided with his face, knocking him out.


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