Fiction Rumble II - Week 24 (Current Champion: student)

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popsofctown
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Post Post #150  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 11, 2019 6:02 pm

I think my game activity is in a trough and I should be able to write something
"Let us say that you are right and there are two worlds. How much, then, is this 'other world' worth to you? What do you have there that you do not have here? Money? Power? Something worth causing the prince so much pain for?'"
"Well, I..."
"What? Nothing? You would make the prince suffer over... nothing?"

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Post Post #151  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 11, 2019 6:09 pm

Hi um, what's the situation rn?
waking a snake from the site

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Post Post #152  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 11, 2019 6:12 pm

Still in
And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.

And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.

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Post Post #153  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 11, 2019 7:39 pm

I can accept an extension if everyone who submits before the deadline is okay with it.

Though, it's better if it is delivered within the deadline. Select some pretty good instrumentals songs (happy-themed, sad-themed, drama-themed), unplug the internet, open the word document and write it while the theme flows through your head.
Sigh

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Post Post #154  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 11, 2019 9:44 pm

im ok with an extension!

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Post Post #155  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 11, 2019 10:19 pm

I am!! It's in process!! Maybe I'll finish it up tonight and do as you suggested lol, I've been majorly distracted
"Are you a Mousochist?" -Aristophanes
"don't be carcasilly" -RadiantCowbells
"Carcalilly is like if Mulch and Dunkerdoodles had a baby, and they saw Mafia as this new shiny object, so they started to play with it." -Flavor Leaf
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Post Post #156  (ISO)  » Thu Sep 12, 2019 10:58 am

Sorry I think I'm actually not feelin' it.
"Let us say that you are right and there are two worlds. How much, then, is this 'other world' worth to you? What do you have there that you do not have here? Money? Power? Something worth causing the prince so much pain for?'"
"Well, I..."
"What? Nothing? You would make the prince suffer over... nothing?"

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Post Post #157  (ISO)  » Thu Sep 12, 2019 12:47 pm

Might have to hall of shame me, I'm only halfway through my story and it's not fair to half-ass it.
And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.

And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.

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Post Post #158  (ISO)  » Thu Sep 12, 2019 2:44 pm

Finish it atleast, even if it goes well past the deadline.
Sigh

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Post Post #159  (ISO)  » Thu Sep 12, 2019 3:07 pm

Good point, the whole 70 hour workweek isn't conducive to fiction rumble lol
And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.

And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.

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Post Post #160  (ISO)  » Thu Sep 12, 2019 3:49 pm

I'll be a few hours late but I'll keep at it otherwise, this has been something I've enjoyed but not really pursued.
"Are you a Mousochist?" -Aristophanes
"don't be carcasilly" -RadiantCowbells
"Carcalilly is like if Mulch and Dunkerdoodles had a baby, and they saw Mafia as this new shiny object, so they started to play with it." -Flavor Leaf
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Post Post #161  (ISO)  » Thu Sep 12, 2019 7:31 pm

Something_Smart and student haven't objected, so new deadline:

(expired on 2019-09-16 17:00:00)
Sigh

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Post Post #162  (ISO)  » Mon Sep 16, 2019 2:56 pm

Spoiler: A Soul for a Soul, 1685
Late December winds howled at the morning sun like wolves under a full moon. The coarse snow piled itself between the knees of the infantry. Alexander Conmar and his men had been caught a minor snowstorm the night before the siege. It pricked at their heavy lungs and reduced their line of sight to where the enemy fortress, dubbed “King Hill”, was completely invisible under the hazy sky. It was as if it never existed. A ghost fortress.
Heavily defended by the autocracy for nearly a decade, King Hill was the final standing point of the Arleon Empire, and consequently its capital. Conmar and his predecessors grew to become their greatest rival in nothing short of empirical world-takeover. The war efforts had doubled as it approached the 20th year anniversary of the death of Victor Conmar, consequently, Alexander’s father. It was his tragic death, poisoned by his late fiance who turned out to be an insider from Arleon.
Today would be the day he took vengeance.
His people were trembling, though it wasn't clear if it was due to the harsh cold or their anticipation for victory. Their ragged appearance compared to the castle in front of them was deeply misleading. They had a camp that fully circumferenced the fort- effectively working as iron-clad wall made of men and leather tents. They had been starving out the guards in the castle for weeks. Conmar's army was monumental, and they all respected him. He knew it wasn't just for his father's blood, either- his power was supernatural. In his two years commanding the war effort, he accomplished nearly twice as much as anyone has before him. Before he took up the position, the empires were in an effective deadlock, a stalemate. Nothing but two Kings on a chessboard.
"Sir." Drawing him away from his thoughts, the shorter man stepped up to Conmar's side. For a moment, the two silently stared into the blinding haze of ice and snow.
Finally, Conmar spoke without tearing his eyes away from the void. "Everything is arranged?"
"Yes Sir. Waiting on your word." It was Conmar's personal advisor, a recently drafted 20 year old statistics major. Many were shocked by Conmar's choice, but to him it made sense. The young man's sense of respect was his primary attribute, and his ability in his field was astounding despite relatively little experience. Unlike other advisors, he would never try to play Devil's Advocate with his employer. He never tried to change or challenge Conmar's plans, only improve them. He ended up being more of an editor than an advisor.
After a deep breath, Conmar turned around to face his people, the heel of his boot pinning the ground beneath the snow
"Brothers!" His voice echoed with spirit, vibrating with power. "Twenty years we have fought. Twenty years we have sacrificed to win this war. All the efforts of all those lost, and all those here today, have led up to this moment. To my father, and to all that have fallen, we pray to Heaven above- stand with us and witness the final battle! Today will be the last day of Arleon!"
The crowd roared loud enough to rumble the withered castle's stone. The only noise able to down them out was the rocket-propelled grenade soon fired straight into the castle gate, blowing the first interior line of Arleon defense back. Troops poured into the breach as a river floods into the ocean- fast, unified, whole. Of the Arleon soldiers still alive, they were weakened by restlessness and malnutrition. The outcome was undoubted.
The takeover was quick and tidy. Conmar's flag was forcefully raised by the castle's flagpole, after the troops had burned Arleon's own flag. The fallen Emperor was swiftly executed with a platinum bullet. It was over. They had won. He had won.

But something was wrong.
It wasn't apparent until post-afterparty. Perhaps Conmar drank too much. Perhaps it had just been a long day, but as he was walking home alone in the cold black night, he heard it. It talked slowly, deeply, and he could hear it throbbing in his chest.
"How does it feel?" It was not gentle, nor imploring. It was a curious accusation. A small twinge of guilt bubbled up in Conmar's stomach. He didn't want to hear it. Not now.
He noticed that the voice had stopped him on his track home. Determined to not let this creature torment him, he resumed his walk in silence. Yet, the voice continued to pester.
"What's the matter? You're practically the King of the World now. All you've been fighting for is finally yours. Why are you so upset? Aren't you happy with your decision?" It's voice sounded like a song once sung by angels, but had been carelessly dropped from above and fell on the filthy concrete. A broken song, crudely glued together by tar. A delicious bite infested with roaches.
Conmar's rage could be heard in his breath. His rage against this...thing… was the only buffer to his grave guilt. He did what he had to do, what anyone would do in his place. Despite this, his decision would burden him for the rest of his life.
"Do you not remember? Perhaps I need to remind you…" The voice grew incrementally louder, and soon, Conmar's vision faded to black.

***

"Alex, honey? Could you come down here for just a moment?" Hannah, Conmar's fiance, called over the loud news broadcast sitting across the dining room. They've known each other since they were children, and had spent nearly 7 years together before Conmar had proposed his love to her.
"Darling, you know I'm busy…" He began
"With the militia, and the plans for tomorrow, and this, and that, I know. I won't take up much of your time, I promise!" She was practically begging him to take a stopping moment. A few minutes wouldn't hurt. Taking off his reading glasses and setting them on top of the war drafts, he hastily made his way downstairs to see his wife-to-be standing in front of the counter. Hannah gave him a chaste kiss as he neared her.
"Alright, you have me. Now, what's so important?" Alexander's voice was laced in tiredness. Despite his minimal enthusiasm, Hannah smiled brightly and stepped away from the counter to reveal a small, but wonderfully decorated, strawberry chocolate cake.
"Voila!" She giggled softly at his now widened eyes. "I thought that your promotion to full military general was spectacular, and I thought it was an occasion worthy of celebration!" She kissed his cheek again, and he couldn't help but smile. "If anything, it's about time. I know you'll make a great King one day."
Conmar choked on his words slightly. "Hannah, I don't know what I say…. Thank you…" Finally, he remembered where he was. He was at home. He wasn't in a field talking with stone-hearted soldiers. He wasn't formulating plans of diplomacy with enemy rebellions. He was home, with the woman he loved, and who loved him for who he was. He started laughing softly, embracing her in his arms. "God, darling, you don't have to spoil me as much as you do. I love you…"
"I love you too, Alexander."

***

As his world spiraled away from memory into reality, Conmar caught himself from falling on a nearby lamppost, tears misting his eyes. The deep rumble of laughter shook in his head like a migraine.
"It was that night you traded Hannah's soul for ensured victory against the Arleons." It finally clarified. This make Conmar choke out into a sob. Although the entity was invisible, it's sinister glare and wide smirk could be felt all around him.
"You had to win. As soon as I, a demon, offered you power, victory and all you desired, you accepted. No matter the cost. You knew you had to give her up, but it was the right choice, don't you think?" It wouldn't stop taunting him. His nails dug into the metallic pole, producing a horrible scratching noise that he couldn't even hear over the venomous voice.
"One life to save millions. Besides, if you had not taken up my offer, you two would die the same fate as all emperors- begging for death at the torturous feet of their enemies."
Conmar's doubts flooded his mind. If this was all true, then had he really made the best choice? Would they just have died anyway? Was the peace of this world worth all he had given up?
As soon as he was about to justify himself, the demon growled lowly. He though it's voice couldn't Pierce his soul any more than it already did, but he was proven wrong.
"I must thank you, though. She was…. And still is… absolutely delicious."
The moment the voice ended the line, the sound of Hannah screaming and crying broke into Conmar's head. He realized it now. She wasn't just dead, he had sold her soul to a demon. A creature that only knows of sadistic pastimes; with an unfathomable hatred for human kind. He cast the essence of an angel sent to him, to love and cherish him, into the damned talons of a being of hell.
The noise of Hannah's deep suffering and the treacherous laugher of the demon wouldn't stop no matter how many times he hit his head against the solid pole. Every part of him felt pain that centered back to his heart. What did he do? WHAT DID HE DO?!
Holding his hand to his nose and pulling it away, he saw his own blood run along his fingers. Impure blood. The blood of a monster not fit to be a King. Pulling his gun from his holster, he knew the last thing he had to do. If he had gone this far to ensure world peace, he would make sure it would happen. Someone else would have to be the King.
The clock had just struck 6AM as the gunshot echoed the empty street. All that was left was the king's blood staining the sidewalk, and the rising sun of the morning.
"Are you a Mousochist?" -Aristophanes
"don't be carcasilly" -RadiantCowbells
"Carcalilly is like if Mulch and Dunkerdoodles had a baby, and they saw Mafia as this new shiny object, so they started to play with it." -Flavor Leaf
Carcalilly#6890 (Discord)

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Post Post #163  (ISO)  » Mon Sep 16, 2019 3:59 pm

Contacts, 1436 Words

Spoiler:
“Hi, I’m Rob.”

Madison looked up from her phone and placed it on the bar in front of her. The man to her right was extending his hand with a bright smile on his face.

“Madison,” she said, shaking his hand.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Madison almost said no, mostly out of habit. She glanced at her phone, then back at Rob. Not bad looking, she thought to herself. Handsome, actually. He had dark hair, a nice tan, and a smile that cut through the low light of her surroundings.

“Sure,” said Madison. “Long Island Iced Tea.”

Rob motioned to the bartender. “So, Madison, are you from around here?”

*BZZZZZ BZZZZ*

Madison’s phone buzzed on the table in front of her before she answered. She was about to pick it up, and then stopped herself. She turned slightly and smiled.

“Actually, yeah,” said Madison, “I grew up over in Trenton, but now I work here. What about you?”

“I’ve only been living in the city for a few months,” said Rob. “I like it, but I miss the fresh air.”

“The air definitely leaves a lot to be desired,” Madison said with a chuckle. “I like to get out of the city sometimes, though, it helps me stay centered, you know?”

*BZZZZ BZZZZ*

Madison glanced at her phone, still facedown on the bar. For just a moment, she closed her eyes and her heart sank. She should answer these texts, but good-looking guys aren’t exactly a dime a dozen in this city. She turned her attention back toward Rob.

“My folks own a ranch about thirty miles up the way,” said Rob. “I still go out there about once a week just to take in the nature. Sometimes I even camp out there.”

“So you’re more of an outdoorsman?”

Rob laughed. “Yeah, I know, country boy moves to the big city. It’s cliché, but it’s how things have turned out.”

Madison sipped her drink and smiled, turning toward him slightly. “I don’t know,” she said. “Clichés can be interesting too.” Madison’s drinks were starting to give her a warm buzz and every time Rob smiled, she found her heart pounding against her chest. She knew she was blushing, and for just a moment she wondered what it would be like to spend a night in the arms of this country-boy-turned-city-man.

“Well good,” said Rob. “I’d hate to think I was boring you.”

“You’re not even close to boring me.”

*BZZZZ BZZZZ*

“Do you need to get that?” asked Rob. He nodded toward her phone.

“Nope,” said Madison, with a smile. For a split second, Madison realized she had leaned in slightly closer and now her heart threatened to slam its way out of her chest and hurl itself at Rob’s feet.

“Might be your boyfriend calling.”

“I don’t have one.”

“A pretty woman like you? I don’t know, I’d have thought you were taken.” Rob put his hand on hers and with that simple touch, electricity surged from her heart to her left arm, leaving a tingle where their skin met.

“It’s… a long story, and it’s not worth talking about,” said Madison. “So not to change the subject, but do you work out?” Madison said with a grin. That’s right, she thought, I’m checking you out.

Rob’s eyes glinted. “I do, actually. Not as much as I used to before I moved here, but I like to stay in shape.”

“I can see that.”

Rob put his head down and chuckled. “I like going rock climbing once or twice a year,” he said, “It really helps. Have you ever been?”

“Me? Oh, no, I’ve never done anything like that.”

“You should try it, it’s a really great way to get close to the earth’s natural beauty.”

“Maybe I will.”

Madison bit her lip. She was peripherally aware that the ice was rapidly melting in her Long Island Iced Tea, but she really didn’t care. The Long Island Iced Tea was the last thing from her mind. The more pressing matter was that she was sitting in front of this attractive, interesting stranger. She almost felt as if a spell had been cast over her.

*BZZZZ BZZZZ*

Oh for God’s sake, Madison thought to herself. She wanted nothing more than to throw her phone into the garbage can, maybe give it to some homeless person as an early Christmas present. She wanted the phone and everything it represented right now to disappear, leaving just her and this seemingly perfect guy. Before Madison realized she had done it, she picked up her phone and read the texts.

Dan
I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am. Not a day goes by where I don’t miss you. You have every right to be angry over what I did. I can’t excuse any of it.

I’ve ruined the only thing that ever made sense to me. All I could ever ask is that you find it in your heart to forgive me, to be with me, to try and love me again.

I wish I had never met her, and I wish I had never done the things I did. I can’t take them back, Maddy, but I can become a better person.

Madison rolled her eyes, then looked up at Rob. She tried to recollect her train of thought. “So, Rob, what do you do here in the city besides chatting up women in bars?”

“I’m actually working on a business degree,” said Rob. I mostly moved to the city because the commute in and out of town is brutal.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s not exactly following my dream, I suppose, but it’s a job. What do you do?”

“I’m a veterinarian,” Madison said, meeting his steel blue eyes once more.

“That sounds rewarding, do you like it?”

“I do,” said Madison. “What’s your dream job?”

“That’s a tough one,” said Rob. “Maybe a ranger for the Parks service.”

“That’s a long way from contracts and investments.”

*BZZZZ BZZZZ*

Dan
There is nothing I wish more than that I had never hurt you. I can make this right, I can be everything you deserve to have and so much more. Just, please, at least answer me.

“Maybe one day,” said Rob. “It’s a long story, as you say.”

“I’m sure,” said Madison. Now she was warm all over. She wasn’t quite positive if it was the booze, or if this handsome stranger just had complete hold over her, but she was sure that if she’d been a cartoon character, she’d have little hearts coming out of her head. She leaned in closer, steadying herself with the bar, getting a closer look at Rob’s eyes. Try as she might she was having a hard time not getting lost in them. Rob, for his part, was leaning as well. His cologne was woodsy, of course, with a hint of peppermint. Her heart fluttered again.

“I know we just met,” said Madison, “But I really want to know what kind of kisser you are.”

Rob blushed a little, then smiled. He leaned in, brushing his lips ever so slightly against hers. Just like that, her entire being was on fire. She floated up from her body, and found herself as a spirit looking down on the scene below. She wanted more, of course, and for a moment she found herself wanting to go back to his place, her place, anywhere he would have her.

*BZZZZ BZZZZ

For just a moment, the spell broke, and she remembered the phone in her hand as she ended the kiss.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t usually… you know, do that kind of thing.”

“I’d ask you if you wanted to go back to my place,” said Rob, “but I’m not that kinda guy.”

“Probably for the better,” said Madison, her voice shaking. “I’d probably accept.”

Rob smiled. “Maybe I should give you my number, we could go out on a proper date?”

“I’d like that a lot, Rob.”

Madison took her phone in her hand and looked down. She added Rob as a contact, took his number, and then before she knew what she was doing, she had opened Dan’s texts.

Dan
You are my entire world, my soul, and without you I am lost.

Madison hesitated for a second, just long enough to tear up a bit. She pushed aside the memories of the good times, and even the memories of the bad times. This was a step she was going to have to take sooner or later. She texted Dan.

Madison
I’m sorry. I can’t.
And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.

And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.

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Post Post #164  (ISO)  » Mon Sep 16, 2019 6:39 pm

Spoiler: Pinball Wizard review
Let's see what you pulled this time. Is it another bully? Another secret plan?

In post 143, Something_Smart wrote:Eight pinball machines stood scattered about the room, leaving barely enough space to walk from one side to the other. There were also four in the kitchen, and two in each bedroom.


Woah, they must be crazy.

Angelo had unsuccessfully searched for a buyer.


Oh nvm, they're sellers.

Kat leaned lazily against the doorway. “Sorry, Angie. I know you hate to admit it, but there’s really no two ways about it this time. I was right and you were wrong.”

Angelo clenched his fists. “I told you not to call me that! And besides, I’ll find a way to sell them. The salesman promised that I’d be able to make a huge profit if I was just patient enough. Just give me one more week.”

“One more week?” Kat’s smile disappeared. “Angelo, those stupid things have been clogging up your apartment for almost a month. And because of what? You believed some bullshit a con man told you?”

“He’s not a con man!” Angelo gestured wildly, almost knocking the phone off of the table. His expression softened somewhat as he picked up the phone and put it back. “Multi-level marketing is the next big thing, okay? It’s the way of the future.”

“Pyramid schemes are not the way of the future. That Ponzi guy was doing this stuff forty years ago.”


I am liking the fight around here.

Kat flashed an angry glare. “Look, the Liberation Club was a good idea. They’re all about fighting corporate dominance and corrupt politics. It’s not my fault they decided to start killing people to prove their point.”


Seems like a good setup.

“DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT MY BROTHER!” Kat’s face began to redden, but she placed her hands on her chest and began breathing deeply.


Hmmm

“Fine. If you want to keep your stupid pinball machines, you can keep your stupid pinball machines.” She slammed the door and walked out.


So it has some good drama.

She took a step back. “Didn’t you read today’s paper? Those machines are-- uh...” She trailed off and pointed toward the store’s newspaper rack.


Getting pretty interesting.

Now who would be interested in buying sixteen bombs?


You got a deal hehe

“Heeeeeeey, Angelo! Long time no see.” Hearing that voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

“Hi, Mark.” This was none other than Kat’s younger brother. The infamous ringleader of the extremist Liberation Club. [...] He joined the Liberation Club on Kat’s request and immediately took it from a peace-loving protest group to a violent anarchist army.


Haha

Good good

So I can understand what's the hard decision now.

“Sure, that will work.” Angelo hung up. The anxiety was completely gone. He’d made his decision. Mark arrived with his truck, and the two men loaded the machines in. After watching Mark drive away, Angelo took a quick trip to the bank, then went back to his apartment and dialed a number on the phone.

“Hey, Kat, it’s me. I’ve got something to tell you...”


Oh well, that's how it ends then. No real action or drama, but very interesting story.

Angelo glanced down at the newspaper article he’d been reading. TRAGEDY-- Arcade Hall Explosion Kills 13. Foul Play Suspected. After a moment of contemplation, he turned back to Kat and put on a serene smile.

“Nah,” he replied.


Hehe, sorta was expecting this after the climax. I can imagine how he said "Nah".

Spoiler: The Monkey review
It's 86 words, but I probably shouldn't judge on that. Something interesting may come from those few words.

In post 145, student wrote:The monkey clutches its banana harder. Its hand is trapped in a hole that is just large enough for its hand to enter, but not enough for its fist to come out.

The scientist observes the monkey intently while writing down her observations. For the 38th time, her experimentation on smart monkeys had ended in failure. She studies her notes and mutters to herself, surely, by mutating the ARMC5 gene some way or another, surely, the experiment would work. Surely.

The scientist clutches her notes harder.


Okay, that seems like something. I like the "Surely" part.

Making a max-100-words story seems like a good challenge.

Spoiler: A Soul for A Soul review
Would this be Carcalilly's debut story? Not sure if she already posted a story before. Though, am curious to see.

First glance, I may have trouble reading this, but it's maybe just a paragraph problem. Would suggest leaving an empty space between two paragraphs, but I'm not counting that for my review.

Alexander Conmar and his men had been caught a minor snowstorm the night before the siege. It pricked at their heavy lungs and reduced their line of sight to where the enemy fortress, dubbed “King Hill”, was completely invisible under the hazy sky.


So guess it's a war?

Heavily defended by the autocracy for nearly a decade, King Hill was the final standing point of the Arleon Empire, and consequently its capital. Conmar and his predecessors grew to become their greatest rival in nothing short of empirical world-takeover.


Like the build-up here.

The war efforts had doubled as it approached the 20th year anniversary of the death of Victor Conmar, consequently, Alexander’s father. It was his tragic death, poisoned by his late fiance who turned out to be an insider from Arleon.
Today would be the day he took vengeance.


A difficult choice and a vengeance. Hehe I wanna see where will this lead.

his power was supernatural.


Let's see what it is then.

Many were shocked by Conmar's choice, but to him it made sense.


I may have missed what was the choice, but maybe it will be revealed alongside the story. If yes, it was probably a good idea.

Unlike other advisors, he would never try to play Devil's Advocate with his employer. He never tried to change or challenge Conmar's plans, only improve them. He ended up being more of an editor than an advisor.


I like this character development.

"Twenty years we have fought. Twenty years we have sacrificed to win this war. All the efforts of all those lost, and all those here today, have led up to this moment. To my father, and to all that have fallen, we pray to Heaven above- stand with us and witness the final battle! Today will be the last day of Arleon!"


Good speech.

The takeover was quick and tidy. Conmar's flag was forcefully raised by the castle's flagpole, after the troops had burned Arleon's own flag. The fallen Emperor was swiftly executed with a platinum bullet. It was over. They had won. He had won.


Oh it went quickly.

But something was wrong.


When not?

So something must come afterwards.

"How does it feel?" It was not gentle, nor imploring. It was a curious accusation. A small twinge of guilt bubbled up in Conmar's stomach. He didn't want to hear it. Not now.


Would this be guilt speaking? Or another superpower character?

He did what he had to do, what anyone would do in his place. Despite this, his decision would burden him for the rest of his life.


So this story looks more oriented towards the consequences of the choice rather than the choice itself.

"Do you not remember? Perhaps I need to remind you…" The voice grew incrementally louder, and soon, Conmar's vision faded to black.


And this gets interesting.

He was home, with the woman he loved, and who loved him for who he was. He started laughing softly, embracing her in his arms. "God, darling, you don't have to spoil me as much as you do. I love you…"
"I love you too, Alexander."


Probably this develops Alexander's motivations further.

"It was that night you traded Hannah's soul for ensured victory against the Arleons." It finally clarified.


So this was the choice. A pretty shocking choice actually.

"You had to win. As soon as I, a demon, offered you power, victory and all you desired, you accepted. No matter the cost. You knew you had to give her up, but it was the right choice, don't you think?" It wouldn't stop taunting him. His nails dug into the metallic pole, producing a horrible scratching noise that he couldn't even hear over the venomous voice.


Good I-don't-know-what's-this-called (reach?) here. I can see the pain of the choice.

He cast the essence of an angel sent to him, to love and cherish him, into the damned talons of a being of hell.


That's really terrible, Conmar.

The clock had just struck 6AM as the gunshot echoed the empty street. All that was left was the king's blood staining the sidewalk, and the rising sun of the morning.


Fitting ending. A brave victory, but a pretty dark twist surrounding the sacrifice.

Spoiler: Contacts review
Haven't read any kuribo's story, but I probably respect him as a writer. Let's see if he deserves to reclaim his throne though.

At first glance, it seems like easier to read than the other three considering there are shorter paragraphs.

In post 163, kuribo wrote:Madison almost said no, mostly out of habit. She glanced at her phone, then back at Rob. Not bad looking, she thought to herself. Handsome, actually. He had dark hair, a nice tan, and a smile that cut through the low light of her surroundings.


Oh right, should have expected this.

Madison glanced at her phone, still facedown on the bar. For just a moment, she closed her eyes and her heart sank. She should answer these texts, but good-looking guys aren’t exactly a dime a dozen in this city.


I wonder what about her phone.

“Might be your boyfriend calling.”

“I don’t have one.”


Let me guess: she's ignoring her boyfriend's call?

“I like going rock climbing once or twice a year,” he said, “It really helps. Have you ever been?”

“Me? Oh, no, I’ve never done anything like that.”

“You should try it, it’s a really great way to get close to the earth’s natural beauty.”


So it must be about rock climbing. I wonder if I'll find action, drama or angst.

Dan
I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am. Not a day goes by where I don’t miss you. You have every right to be angry over what I did. I can’t excuse any of it.

I’ve ruined the only thing that ever made sense to me. All I could ever ask is that you find it in your heart to forgive me, to be with me, to try and love me again.

I wish I had never met her, and I wish I had never done the things I did. I can’t take them back, Maddy, but I can become a better person.


Dirty Dan

*BZZZZ BZZZZ

For just a moment, the spell broke, and she remembered the phone in her hand as she ended the kiss.


Ouch how bad.

Dan
You are my entire world, my soul, and without you I am lost.

Madison hesitated for a second, just long enough to tear up a bit. She pushed aside the memories of the good times, and even the memories of the bad times. This was a step she was going to have to take sooner or later. She texted Dan.

Madison
I’m sorry. I can’t.


So I could understand this story: seems more like oriented towards someone moving on, but I can imagine she won't keep Rob for long and it will be another Dan repeat.


Spoiler: Overview
I tried reviewing based on my reactions about each story. I tried looking for the positive aspects of each story. I was at a cafe with a mildly loud noise, and also an epic styled piano music kept playing in my head, so if I went to read home my mood may have been different. Still, would rather not delay this.

Something_Smart's story managed to catch my attention pretty soon with the pinballs. I like how it took a twist and the ending ("Nah") was pretty good. The characters also had a well-defined personality: one greedy man, one pacifist girlfriend and one crazy terrorist brother-in-law.

student's story seemed more like one scenery with each character taking one action: the monkey struggling to get its hand out and the scientist just observing, pretending everything is fine. Although not really a story, it managed to be somewhat interesting. It would be interesting to see hundreds 100-word stories depicting every reflexive social situation.

Carcalilly's story sorta seemed hard to read. The universe seemed interesting and I would want to see the battle scenes unraveling. I like how the characters were given their merits and I could see how important was each character for the hero's trajectory. I could see how the main character went from a glorious victory to a tragic twist over guilt.

kuribo's story was pretty easy to read, it had pretty short paragraphs that made it easier to flow with, apparently there was no need to keep telling the past of the characters anyway. It kept its romantic thriller for a while as I wondered what was going on with the phone and made me desire to continue it. Although the story wasn't really my style, I can see its merits for someone who's more into romance.

If I were to merge all of them, I would expect a story consisting of characters with well-defined personalities like Something_Smart's, characters questioning what they're doing like student's, character and world development like Carcalilly's and a pretty good-flowing writing style like kuribo's.

If there was any writing error, I probably went past it. It didn't affect the review and what matters is the story development anyway.

After thinking, I decided to choose Something_Smart's story as the winner. It had mostly fairly short and easy-to-read paragraphs, like kuribo's. It had a unique way of catching my attention. It also seemed to have a pretty interesting setup. The characters were better developed there and I think it had the most creative twist. If I were to show one of the four stories to someone, most likely I'd choose this.

This wasn't really a technical review, it was more how I felt about the stories while also focusing on the positive aspects. Sorry if I sound biased anywhere or if my taste looks bad.
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Post Post #165  (ISO)  » Tue Sep 17, 2019 12:47 am

Pinball Wizard:
Spoiler:
I personally didn't like the story theme too much. I felt that the input output ratio was too high, in that there required so much setup in order for everything to run, while the resolution was, our protagonist lucked out in that the crazy brother in law went heeeey. Nonetheless, I did like the descriptions in the story- I could really feel the heat and nerves Angelo was in, so kudos on that!

Calypso:
Spoiler:
That was really emotional and poignant. I did anticipate the ending, but it was so sweet and so human nonetheless, that it made a beautiful read. I think the only (subjective) area I would change is that Amru warmed up to Calypso way too fast, and it would be nice if Amru gradually was entranced by Calypso, but still resolved to leaving.


Soul for a Soul:
Spoiler:
I agree with Creature in that it seemed at first hard to read, but I got really into it rather fast. I wonder whether the hard part is the Aerlon and the statitician, or the description of the army, but the first couple of paragraphs seemed a little bloated. However, the ending made up for the beginning in how chilling it was.

Contacts:
Spoiler:
A fun sensual read. Exciting - and relatable (the text stuff, not the I get flirted with in public stuff). It envelops the "choice" element of the prompt well, but I hoped that the conflict was a bit bigger, that there was a more struggle that Madison had with Dirty Dan (otherwise the choice seemed pretty easy)!

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Post Post #166  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 18, 2019 6:58 am

Honestly a great choice. The whole concept of it was charmingly unique, and it portrayed complex emotions simply and effectively.

This is a lot of fun despite my dismay for deadlines. I haven't considered creative writing in forever, but this is a really great practice, I'd reckon.
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Post Post #167  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 18, 2019 9:01 am

In post 166, Carcalilly wrote:This is a lot of fun despite my dismay for deadlines. I haven't considered creative writing in forever, but this is a really great practice, I'd reckon.

Yeah totally! And while deadlines may suck, they do motivate us to get shit done... :shifty: I hope you stay with this, I really enjoyed your story :]

I'll put a prompt up within the next few hours. Need to think of a good one first.
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Self-contradiction isn't scummy.

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Post Post #168  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 18, 2019 7:57 pm

Eleven hours is totally a few, don't know what you're talking about. :roll:

The Prompt:
Someone is accused of something they didn't do. 1500 words.

(expired on 2019-10-02 21:00:00)
If you know how to pronounce "bourgeoisie," you're probably part of the bourgeoisie.

Self-contradiction isn't scummy.

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Post Post #169  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 18, 2019 8:01 pm

Oh shit let’s hope I can get this one done this time w/o an extension
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"don't be carcasilly" -RadiantCowbells
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Post Post #170  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 18, 2019 8:06 pm

/in

Last week I learned you can't do a decent romance arc in a flash fiction format
And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.

And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.

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Post Post #171  (ISO)  » Wed Sep 18, 2019 10:22 pm

Shhh yours hit me on an emotional level, but then again I'm a sucker for hardships and new beginnings
"Are you a Mousochist?" -Aristophanes
"don't be carcasilly" -RadiantCowbells
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Post Post #172  (ISO)  » Mon Sep 23, 2019 4:16 pm

Spoiler: I Need a Real Clue, 1500 words
Catherina Morgan has been found dead this morning, the TV reporter spoke.

Catherina, the famous “I Need a Real Clue” singer is dead?

She was shot multiple times by Kane Jefferson, the TV reporter continued.

My father? How? No, he couldn’t have done that.

The TV reporter continued bringing details about the incident. I knew my father had engaged in a relationship with her, but recently they had a fight and broke up. He’s still not able to do this.

There were also reports of money fraud concerning Kane, the TV reporter said, switching to another man wearing coat: yes, it is believed Jefferson’s family built their wealth based on schemes involving scamming and tax fraud. That would explain the homicide.

I turned off the TV. “Liars!”, I wanted to shout. How could they talk that bad about our family? They invested so much time to rise their corporation, they wouldn’t ever go corrupt. Who are they to talk bad about my family?

I risked a peek on my tablet, swarmed with message notifications ranging from “Are you okay?” to death threats. I turned off the notifications and scrolled the news feed, also cluttered with the recent happening. As I scrolled, I saw the camera video recording the murder. It felt so weird: why did he show his face on the camera? If my father was rich, why wouldn’t he hire someone to do that?

My tablet ringed with a new report: Mr. Jefferson’s execution scheduled for Sunday. In three days? How did they judge him this fast? No, there’s something clearly wrong.

I turned on the TV again and switched to a channel that doesn’t broadcast news. However, for some reason, they were talking about Catherina’s life and trajectory to success. Damn, she was pretty gentle, benevolent and lovable. My father would never murder her.

The TV broadcast her top hit. When it hit the chorus, I cried uncontrollably.

It ended so out of the blue
I’m not willing to just let it fall through
Your words sound so untrue
I need a real clue


---


After recovering, I first tried to talk with my father, but the officers turned me down. One of them sadistically said: “you will never meet your father again”. I could hear them talking about how my father pleaded innocence, accusing someone named Alan Howard.

Then I moved to my father’s residence, surrounded by policemen not allowing me to enter. One officer appeared from the front door, reporting there were only burnt papers. I could spot his hand hiding a lighter.

“Lara Jefferson?”, a reporter showed up, “mind being interviewed?”

I said yes and walked away, speeding up as more of them kept approaching.

I called my brother Albi, who was traveling in Canada. “Hello, sister. How do you do?”, he answered enthusiastically. “Our father is being framed of murder”, I told him what I noticed, “we need to save him”. His mood changed and I could tell he was thinking something.

“I searched for this man Alan Howard, he’s pretty rich and is running for governor”, he said, “he’s also looking for a maid”.

“Fuck”, I muttered to myself realizing what Albi was planning.

I changed my hairstyle and faked a new ID card. The same day I was interviewed by Alan Howard himself, “how are you, sweetie?”, he tried to pick up on me. I kept my cool and got hired.

The next day, I received one small camera and three pretty tiny voice recorders. The plan would be to place one voice recorder in his office, one in his favorite coat and I would keep the last and the camera with me. Each recording would be sent straight to my brother real-time. We expected him to unawarely confess.

The first day, I managed to do my part. We couldn’t get a confession, but my brother learned something disturbing.

“Our father’s residence got confiscated and is being auctioned, apparently Alan wants the house.”, he said. “Why?”, I asked. Albi paused and said: “it holds an artifact that allows anyone who uses it to be above law and control the world”. I asked further about it, but received no feedback.

“Lara, the auction is tomorrow, we have until then to stop him”

---


The second day, as I was cleaning the library, I noticed one book with an odd title: Dark Secrets about Thomas Jefferson. When I grabbed to check it, the bookshelf moved revealing a passage.

I pulled my camera and started recording as I climbed down. It revealed a room containing something that looked like my father. “So that explains it”, I muttered.

Other than that, I spotted multiple scriptures and drawings that resembled a large-sized bird skull. The scriptures used weird letters, but for some reason I could understand them.

Apparently, the skull is guarded by the Jefferson family. It is a very powerful native-American artifact and anyone who wears it can select any person of the world, read their mind and even control them.

Just then, I felt a small syringe being plucked in my neck. I last see Alan Howard before blacking out.

---


When I woke up, I was tied to a metal chair in an empty room. “Good news, Lara”, I heard Howard say, “I won the auction...for your residence”.

“Bad news, Howard”, I smirked, “you’re getting arrested”.

Alan Howard laughed for a while before saying: “it doesn’t matter anymore. Once I get that skull, the police will be me...the world will be me”.

He threw multiple bottles on the ground, spilling some liquid. “As for you, Lara”, he opened multiple taps, “you will slowly be dissolved by acid”. Afterwards, he climbed the stairs and closed the door.

The water level reacted with the acid on the floor, rising its volume slowly. It soon got on my feet and I felt a burning sensation. However, the rope tying them to the chair dissolved.

I stared at the rising water level and the rope tying my hands. “Fuck me”, I muttered.

I threw myself backwards. My clothes soaked with acid and my arms and back started burning. I was screaming when I finally got my hands free.

I ran to the stairs, whose steps were slowly dissolving. My feet and hands looked pretty ugly and my shirt was half burnt. I kept banging against the door, screaming, trying to break it.

When the water level was close to the last step, I heard something opening the door.

“Hey, you alright?”, Albi asked.

---


After explaining everything and getting myself new clothes, Albi drove following the GPS on the voice recorder I put on Alan Howard’s favorite coat. It showed up on the central park. Multiple officers were on the central park, mostly protecting Alan.

They ordered us to stop, but my brother accelerated the car against the Alan figure. However, multiple police cars stopped us just a few meters away. As I hid behind the back seats, Albi looked me a last time before getting yanked off the car.

Just when I thought he was going to be shot, multiple fireworks showed up in the sky. I took that moment of distraction to run against Alan Howard. I could stand up against him for a while before he violently threw me on the floor. When I got up, he was no longer in sight.

Soon I could hear his voice from anywhere, his face showing up on the main billboard: “From now on I have control over this city and soon the world”, I heard he say, “any resistance will be shut down”.

As he kept on his dialogue, I approached my brother when I spotted my father well alive. I hugged him and he hugged me back. He seemed sad, but I wasn’t. The real skull was with me. I couldn’t believe I successfully exchanged them during that engage.

My father took the real artifact and soon I could spot Alan Howard screaming and shaking convulsively before banging his head against the stand he was in until he passed out. I couldn’t read his mind, but I smiled as I imagined his pain.

---


As we were moving off the city, I learned what had happened. My father persuaded one loyal officer to drive him to the central park. On their way, they launched one flare on the sky, distracting the officers enough. My brother got the false skull from Alan’s room, for some reason a perfect copy of the original.

I asked my father why he used the skull. “The world shall not know the power of the artifact, so better they think it’s a curse”, he answered, “also he deserved that for fucking with our family...and Catherina”.

“I won’t hide our family’s secrets anymore”, Kane said. “We’ll have to destroy this artifact now”.

He turned on the radio, coincidentally broadcasting Catherina’s top hit:

It ended so out of the blue
I’m not willing to just let it fall through
Your words sound so untrue
I need a real clue


:/
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Post Post #173  (ISO)  » Tue Sep 24, 2019 11:56 pm

.in!

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Post Post #174  (ISO)  » Sun Sep 29, 2019 6:15 pm

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner.


Spoiler: Hi I'm the Best (1027 words)
Hi, I’m the best.

At just 35 years old, I am a multi-billionaire; in fact, the world’s 8th richest person. I made it onto the list of Forbes Top 10 innovative leaders, Time’s Most Influential People since 2010, and am at the forefront of tackling the low literacy rate in developing countries. Oh yeah, I also founded this little social media company called Facebook.

Today I am standing in trial, accused of the murder of my wife Priscilla Chan.

The prosecutor shows the jury pictures of her death. They are certainly grisly, and I hear several jury members gasp in shock. She was violently hacked down in house, beaten over the head about 30 times. However, I am unfazed. My embedded Bluetooth earbud playing Chopin’s Nocturnes has just hit the legato melody, completely captivating my attention.

Of course, I didn’t do it. Even had I wanted my wife gone, I would have picked something more elegant. Maybe a novel chemical compound, or hiring an Eastern European hitman, but getting my hands dirty is simply beneath someone of my stature.

But, secretly, or perhaps not, I am delighted by my wife’s death. Priscilla had become quite irritating after the birth of my second daughter. She kept nagging to me that I should donate more of my wealth to the Chan Zuckerberg Foundation. You know, the one where she’s the poster child of and I am the money pump? TMZ got ahold of the information that I was planning divorce her but was in process of figuring out how to retain my assets. Thus, the public opinion, and the one espoused by the prosecutors, is this constitutes motive for me murdering my wife.

Sheryl Sandberg, my COO, hired the best legal team is the money can buy. Harvard Law professor, Ronald Sullivan, is my lead defense lawyer. He’s trained under the great Johnny Cochrane, the legendary OJ Simpson lawyer, and my equivalent in the legal world. Ronnie is not too bad himself, getting Aaron Hernandez out of double murder conviction a couple of years ago, and Hernandez, as his gang tattoos so obviously dictate: he did it.

My COO Sheryl Sandberg whispers to me that Ronnie is excellent at seeding doubt among the jury. I chuckle to her that there’s no need to seed any doubt, and despite their incompetence, the public would see my innocence. My voice draws ire from both the judge and the sitting jury.

Ronnie stands up to present my alibi. It’s a dated security video at Facebook HQ tennis courts of me perfecting my serving over the ambiance of the entire Bach Fugues. The giant wall clock perfectly corroborates my innocence. The jury looks intently onto the screen, but I don’t think they grasp the grace and power of my serves. Perhaps the dissonance of Fugue has made their heads dizzy as well.

Next, the prosecutor brings forth “witnesses”, or, probably stooges paid by those losers at Snapchat. They’ve been mightily upset that Instagram is doing so much than their app. Sure, my team borrowed a couple of features, but as we all know, design is not patentable under US law. One of the witnesses is cross-examined over a piece of video evidence, in which a hazy individual of my figure is seen to enter my house. Then the commotion begins, lots of indiscriminate and incoherent shouting between Priscilla and someone that sounds quite like me, and then finally the dull thud sound of a sandbag hit by a blunt instrument.

I snort. My research engineers were in fact the first ones to develop the technology to seamlessly alter the build and voice of any individual in videos, and now this technology is used against me. The jury looks at me, incredulous, and the judge reprimands me for contempt. I snort again, more quietly.

Any third party will tell you that the situation looks grim for me, and I can see some of the jury members squirming uncomfortably in their seats. However, I’m not worried. The trump card of my innocence is leveraging Facebook’s improved lie detector with 99 percent accuracy, as certified by the American Psychological Association. Some industry experts have even called this the top invention of this year. Priscilla had asked me to lend the machine to the Innocence Project, but I refused under the guise of being “too costly to manufacture”, saving it especially for myself under situations like today.

Now it’s my turn to take the stand. After wheeling in the machine, the bailiff connects the various wires and contraptions to my body.

“What is your name?” The judge asks, fixating her gaze at the machine’s screen.

“Mark Zuckerberg, your honor.” I put on Brahms’s A German Requiem and smile.

--

Two days later, as expected, I’m acquitted of all charges. FB stocks rose 18 percent on the news of my release. This little debacle has made me the world’s 6th richest person. Not bad for a couple days of trial.

I switch back to my olive-green t-shirt and return to Facebook the very same day to both boost morale. I had wanted Sheryl to play Tchaikovsky’s overture to my return, but she suggested that it would be improper. Even so, as I walk into the office, I’m surprised no one is cheering for me; their faces somber… and some even full of disgust? At times, I do loathe my employees: I give them the opportunity to earn 200 grand a year straight out of college and more importantly, work under me, and this is the loyalty that I’m repaid with.

Sheryl welcomes me back to my office. I take a furtive peek at her backside: she looks amazing for a 50-year-old. Now that my wife is gone, should I give her a shot? My thoughts are interrupted by Sheryl hastily pulling a memo off my desk. I catch a glance at the header: something about a machine that does selective memory replacements.

A set of strange but familiar recollections float up into my head. Red. Bloodstain on the carpet. Me holding my golf club, violently hacking at Priscilla, her screams choraling with Vivaldi’s Four Seasons: Autumn Concerti, playing in the background.

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