Fiction Rumble II - Week 26 (Current Champion: Zaphkael)

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Post Post #25 (ISO) » Wed Jul 19, 2017 4:28 pm

Post by Zachstralkita »

drealmerz7 wrote:I'd like a challenge
Your main character(s) are escorting a corpse.
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Post Post #26 (ISO) » Wed Jul 19, 2017 5:36 pm

Post by Errantparabola »

Spoiler: Blue and Green, 1272.
Humans are nothing if not adaptable, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I sit in the shade and run my finger across my lips, feeling the rough skin—each crack serving as a mark for the days spent in this arid hell. For a moment, I wonder what I look like. Perhaps I look rugged, fit to survive in the harsh conditions, with an unshaven chin and a hard edge whittled down from months of toil and tribulation. But it seems more likely that my beard does nothing to hide my gaunt features, and that my eyes are as lifeless as the landscape.

Orange and yellow—it’s nothing but a sea of orange and yellow, meeting at some indistinguishable horizon. I look up, and the sun pierces the thick dust from just above the mountains. It sets the sky on fire, as if the sun were telling the heavens that any benevolent being that was up there had no power over the earth. Orange and yellow. Perhaps once beautiful, now sickeningly oppressive.

Slowly, I stand up. My shirt is at this point more of a rag, the original design little more than ugly grey at this point. A tear in the back gets caught on a nail and widens with a soft ripping sound. The nail scratches me and I inspect the damage, looking at my scars that alternate with the faded brown of my shirt’s bloodstains, records of the darkest parts of my history. Grey and brown, grey and brown, grey and brown.

I look at where the scratch intersects my past injuries, and remember where one particular scar came from. It was back when there were three of us traveling together, back when I had companions and stories to beat back the fear, the emptiness, the terrifying thought that we may be entirely alone on this planet. One night, with two of us sleeping and one of us keeping watch, the creatures came for us. As we scattered, one of them slashed my back, and I cried out and fell. Without missing more than a step, one of my companions picked me up in his arms and started running. The other gave us a quick nod, drew his knife, and turned to face our pursuers. I looked at his eyes then and saw conviction, and my protests died in my throat. Together, the two of us ran away from him, and the distant howls and the crunch of boot against gravel muffled the quiet sounds of our sobs.

We returned when morning came, carrying only a sliver of hope with our heart. And when we saw the blackened embers of last night’s campfire spattered with red, even that disappeared. Red and black. Life to death. Three to two.

And we could do nothing but carry on. Conversations became more scarce, but we would share the occasional glance and we would understand everything that was left unsaid. We slept less—we had no choice, with only two of us to split the night watch. But we survived, and increased our rations to split two ways instead of three, and adapted.

Eventually, he started eating less, and soon became too weak to walk while the sun was still high in the sky. Eventually, any color that was left in his face drained away. And eventually, he collapsed, and with a voice choked with emotion and illness, he told me that he still had hope. And I looked into his eyes, seeing what I had seen when our long-gone third member had drawn his knife and silently told us to run, and I knew that he was telling the truth. And he told me that if I too were to finally succumb to that eternal sleep, he wished that I would not die alone, but that I, too, would die with hope by my side.

And there is nothing left for me, but I adapt, and once again increase the rations.

--

I shake off the memories of the past. The tear in my shirt is longer from my carelessness, but still manageable. The next town over should only be a day’s journey, so once again I’ll be able to spend the night indoors. Perhaps four walls and a door only serve as an illusion of safety, but when I’m looking at a ceiling and not a starless night sky, it’s much easier to pretend that I’m not the only person left.

The abandoned street, just like everything else in this world, is faded from disuse. I walk on the black asphalt, sweating from the radiating heat, and count the faded stripes to occupy my mind. The yellow, too, is dull and lifeless.

Occasionally I pass by the remnants of once-survivors. Back when I couldn’t stand the smell, I would hold my breath and look away from the grey corpses, skin and bones bleached ashen from the passing of the days. Now I look, and I wonder if they would have had any stories to tell over the campfire. Sometimes the remains of the dead rest together, and I wonder if they were family, or friends, or lovers, or perhaps partners of circumstance, as my group had been. Sometimes the remains are alone, with nothing but the street and the endless stretch of cracked, orange earth for miles. And I wonder if I, too, will soon join them.

I make it to the town without incident. It’s not very large, but it will take several hours to explore. I enter each house, sometimes simply through the open doorway, sometimes through a broken window in a practiced and methodical search. Sometimes I find valuable rations and put them in my backpack, and the thoughtless, repetitive work blurs the brown walls and red roofs together.

A wail pierces my thoughts and stops me in my tracks. The sign of life immediately puts me on high alert, and slowly, carefully, I open the door to the house. Heart pounding, I climb the stairs, following the sound of the cries, and enter the bedroom. On the bed is a child, and holding her, a woman. My eyes meet the woman’s, and I see that strange look again—those green eyes look so determined to cling to hope, the look that I only see before someone knows they will soon lose everything else. I had not seen that green in a long time, resilient and bright, like the leaves and trees of yesteryear. She smiles, and rests her head back on the pillow, and never opens those eyes again.

The baby is still crying, and I walk towards her, slowly picking her up and cradling her in my arms. Eventually she calms down and reaches towards me with small, fragile hands, and I see yet another color from the past, except this time, it’s the color of what was once the sea and the sky. Her face is still wet with tears and her blue eyes look worried. I think to myself that it’s because she hasn’t seen what’s out there. It’s innocence. It's the eyes of someone who still has something to lose.

I keep cradling the baby in my arms, and wonder if she also sees that look in my eyes too. Because I think I have found something to lose, now. I don’t know if I can ever take that look to a place where it will be safe, but I know now that I can try, and that I can hope, because I know that there is still color in this world after all.
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Post Post #27 (ISO) » Fri Jul 28, 2017 11:44 am

Post by Zaphkael »

Spoiler: No Man Disobeys
Rule one, paragraph one.
Nobody questions the gouvernment.
Rule one, paragraph two.
Nobody thinks about questioning the government.
Surely, an excellent citizen like me would never break these rules. And yet.

Steinham is a beatiful, blossoming city. The tall buildings tower high above the streets, filled with vendors and all kinds of people. All roads are radially placed around the central plaza, which causes the shape of the buildings to be somewhat odd. Steinham is the only city built like this so far, giving it a unique charm. Located on the central plaza is the most incredible building complex you could find: the Government Halls. The enormous gothic-styled building has no less than seventy-three towers, one for each politician seating in it. Built from the purest marble, it is whiter than snow. Silver ornaments and intricate statues are spread all over, creating an eye-catching contrast with the rosewood doors.

It's dazzling how incredible the presence of this building is, but it also shows just how powerful this institution is. Within Steinham's borders, the seventy-three politicians hold absolute power over anything. The job of a politician is sacred, and it is a position longed for by many. Elections are held only when a politician chooses to retire, making the amount of people who have held such power in history rather low. Needless to say, the amount of money they earn is extravagant.

It doesn't mean they don't care about their citizens in the slightest, though. This city is a utopia, beautiful and safe. There is no crime, no abuse and no sign of complaints. Residents are mostly free to do whatever they want with only one exception: the Favor.
The city is beautiful, and we, as people of Steinham, should be grateful for the hard work and contributions of others. Because of that, everyone has to do their Favor once in their lifetime.
Favor is defined as a task, chosen by the government. It can be anything the government needs it to be. It can be short or it can take years to complete yours, but it is an obligation. One cannot refuse to accept their Favor, nor can they choose to give up. What happens when you don't obey? Nobody knows. Nowhere in history is such case recorded.

And here I am, carrying out my Favor.
A white package lies in front of me, about the size of a small computer. The contents of the box are classified, and even though I'd love to know what is in it, one does not doubt the choices of the gouverment. It's neither wise, nor legal.
All I have to do is take it with me and bring it to Liberty Street 58-6 in West-Steinham. It is reachable from the Halls in a mere ten minutes. Ten minutes, and this would be over. I'll be home in time for dinner.

I left for my destination, as instructed. Would it... No, it couldn't be. You see, rumor has it that the delivery adress was a rebel's headquarters. Of course, it's impossible as nobody would start a rebellion here, would they? They would break nearly all rules and laws in the constitution, and for what reason? No, this city is perfect. Nobody would commit such crime.
Unfortunately, these thoughts only fuel my burning curiosity. Forgive me, I'm a man of honour who abides by all laws, not because I have to but because I believe that the gouverment is good and pure. Yet, I desire knowledge, someting I wasn't given when receiving this package. Would a peek hurt?

No.
Rule one, paragraph two.
Nobody thinks about questioning the gouverment.
What I am doing is wrong, period. There was just one street I had to walk before arriving at my destination, and I would complete my Favor soon. This struggle is that of a corrupt man, something I am not. Or am I?
By thinking about this, I already broke the law. Nobody knows about it, though. So...what if I brokw it again, without anyone noticing? Just one look and it would all be fine again, my hunger for knowledge stilled.
Yes, I will.

Rule thirty, paragraph three.
Under no circumstances will any citizen ignore orders regarding their Favor. Any information given about a citizen's Favor is also all information that will ever be given to and acquired by said citizen. Disobeying this rule is considered treason and will be harshly punished.

Purposely breaking the law is the strangest feeling. It is wrong, but it doesn't feel that way. It's frightening to know just how easy disobeying the law is. Is this what being a criminal feels like?
The box isn't sealed, and can be opened easily. There is a certain irony in having strict laws surrounding the Favor, yet being foolishly naive in protecting it. I...

This can't be.
Rule seven, paragraph one.
Physically harming any human being is forbidden and will be punished harshly.
Rule seven, pargraph two.
Killing any human being is forbidden and will result in death penalty. Intent to kill is included in this.
Yet, the thing lying in front of me is clearly a bomb. Detonated by a timer, displaying about ten minutes. Ten minutes, and this thing would explode.
Would the government break its very own laws? Would they use brute force to silence anyone who opposes them? What are those rules worth if even the greatest people in this city ignored them? If laws were to exist only for their self gain, why should we obey blindly?

The constitution has no entry about delaying your Favor. I know that, because each citizen has to memorize it. If seventy-three people could not uphold their law, then someone else has to.
This package, it brings death. I did not choose to carry it, which makes me exempt from responsibility.

Rule seven, paragraph two.
Killing any human being is forbidden and will result in death penalty. Intent to kill is included in this. By bestowing this Favor upon me, an intent to kill was clearly shown. Punishment would be death penalty.
The Gouvernment Halls are secure, protected against even the strongest of attacks. A simple bomb cannot penetrate the walls. Any attack from the outside would be useless.
That also meant that any detonation inside would remain inside. Again, I would only kill criminals.

Rule three, paragraph one.
Entering the Government Halls is forbidden unless one has to carry out their duty within its walls.
And this, this is my duty. This is their punishment. I, I bring death, because it is just.
It's the first time I see these walls from the inside. A guard asks me what I'm doing here, and I smile.
"It is time", I said. "Time to abide by the rules."
And the flames did exactly that.


1 day left, I may extend if anyone is still planning to write. It's up to the champion.
But I know, at the end...
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Post Post #28 (ISO) » Fri Jul 28, 2017 11:46 am

Post by Bins »

o shit I should write this
is this where I tell you to swipe right

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Post Post #29 (ISO) » Fri Jul 28, 2017 12:08 pm

Post by drealmerz7 »

ya, an extension would be good, spaced on this!
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Post Post #30 (ISO) » Fri Jul 28, 2017 12:56 pm

Post by Zachstralkita »

Don't worry about the dl just send something

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Post Post #31 (ISO) » Fri Jul 28, 2017 1:10 pm

Post by Dunnstral »

What? Stick to the script
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Post Post #32 (ISO) » Fri Jul 28, 2017 5:14 pm

Post by Bins »

theres a 90% chance I have this done tomorrow morning so like dw bbg

someone post in this thread or something so I don't forget ;)))
is this where I tell you to swipe right

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Post Post #33 (ISO) » Fri Jul 28, 2017 11:59 pm

Post by Zachstralkita »

Dunnstral wrote:What? Stick to the script

Says the guy that doesn't write :lol:
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Post Post #34 (ISO) » Sat Jul 29, 2017 3:33 am

Post by Bins »

I WONT LET YOU DOWN
is this where I tell you to swipe right

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Post Post #35 (ISO) » Sat Jul 29, 2017 4:40 am

Post by Bins »

this is nsfw but not at all graphic
hope that's ok
spoiler: penis jokes / dirty jokes
don't have to review it if that's not ok

also sorry this is absolutely ridiculous

Spoiler: Plaster Pecker, 735
“Captain,” Lieutenant Sikes stood up. “I’m sorry for the last-minute call. This is rather urgent. We need to make another delivery to the Compound. If word of this gets out and this item is stolen, it could make someone a very, very rich man.”

The Captain stirred his spoon in his coffee, inhaling the steam. “Brief me.”

“You,” the Lieutenant gestured to the lady who had just entered the room. “Get the Captain some more coffee. I don’t want to see you in here until we’re done talking.” Alicia, the maid, smiled at the Lieutenant and left.

Sikes started to pace around the room, ruffling his hair with his fingers. There was a tense feeling in the air. He took a deep breath. “It concerns the British Prime Minister himself, Captain.”

“Where is this item?” The Captain did not look up from his coffee.

“Locked up in the basement, Sir. The room is heavily guarded by my best men and I have the key on my person. Not many know of its existence yet, but once word gets out it’ll spread like the plague.”

“Understandable,” the Captain turned to Sikes. “Now, what exactly are we dealing with? More weapons? A secret family heirloom? An expensive piece of jewelry? An important file? Details, please.”

“Well, uh, you see…” and it was at this time, for the first time, Lieutenant Sikes began to blush.

The Captain glared at him. “Out with it.”

“It’s… well, a phallus… sir.” The Lieutenant avoided all eye contact with the Captain.

The Captain began to laugh. “Like a penis?”

“Yes, sir, a chopper.”

“Who’s dick?”

“The British Prime Minister’s.”

The Captain shook his head, “You have me awfully confused, Lieutenant. Why do we have, in our possession, the British Prime Minister’s dick? Does he not need it?”

“No,” the Lieutenant stuttered, obviously flushed. “It’s a perfect mold. A replica.”

“A cast?”

“Exactly that, sir.”

The Captain began to laugh uncontrollably. “A cock cast? A tool template? A prick print? A member model? A shaped schlong?”

“Yes. A plaster pecker, sir.”

“I’m sorry, this is obviously serious to you. I’ll keep my composure. As your superior, I should be setting a better example.” The Captain wiped a tear from his eye and sighed, “But why?”

“Presumably for his wife, sir.”

The Captain began to laugh again. “Last year, we needed to cover up the pig incident, and now the British Prime Minister wants us to lock up his joystick?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s probably for the better, then.” The Captain smiled. “Well, then, get to it. I don’t see what issues you’ll have.”

“Sir, I hate to be disrespectful, but this is an extremely serious situation. This is a mold – a perfect template. Any person who gets their hand on this can replicate more and begin selling the British Prime Minister’s… lower bits… to the rest of the world. He’ll become a laughing stock and no one will take our politics seriously.”

The Captain began to relax from his laughing fit. “If you really think so, Lieutenant.”

“I think that some people would even
kill
to get their hands on this… merchandise.” The Lieutenant suddenly became stiff. “Where is Alicia with that coffee? I asked for that thirty minutes ago.” He called loudly, “Alicia! Get in here!”

The door opened and Alicia walked in. “I’m here, sir, sorry. You told me to wait outside until you were done.” She handed both the men their coffee. “I even brought the guards some water in the time while I waited, sir.”

She smiled.

The Captain began to reassure Sikes that no one was seriously planning on stealing the beloved merchandise in the basement. It was at this moment, though, that the Captain began to choke, and both him and Sikes turned a disgusting shade of purple and blue. Alicia, who had listened in while they were discussing the items tremendous value, remained grinning, as she grabbed the keys from Sikes pocket and made her way down to the now unguarded basement.

“Now let us see what the magnificent item stored in the basement is. Ah, I hope it isn't too big. And it better be easy to keep discrete.” She twirled the keys in her hand before opening the lock.

There, on display in the center of the room, was a perfect waxed willy with it’s mold lying beside it.

“Bloody hell,” Alicia gulped. “I suppose this shall be easy to take after all.”
is this where I tell you to swipe right

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Post Post #36 (ISO) » Sat Jul 29, 2017 5:03 am

Post by Zachstralkita »

lol i forgot i host fuckin disney channel





.............its absolutely fine
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Post Post #37 (ISO) » Sat Jul 29, 2017 5:23 am

Post by Bins »

Disney channel tier jokes
is this where I tell you to swipe right

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Post Post #38 (ISO) » Sat Jul 29, 2017 5:28 am

Post by Zachstralkita »

no like we literally would have to be on Disney Channel to find dick jokes questionable given a lot of the themes that have been used before
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Post Post #39 (ISO) » Sat Jul 29, 2017 5:33 am

Post by Bins »

ye I get it

as long as ur ok should be ok
is this where I tell you to swipe right

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Post Post #40 (ISO) » Sat Jul 29, 2017 5:36 am

Post by Zachstralkita »

Thanks *logs back onto club pegnuin*
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Post Post #41 (ISO) » Sat Jul 29, 2017 11:57 am

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I'm ok you're ok
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Post Post #42 (ISO) » Sun Jul 30, 2017 10:56 am

Post by McMenno »

In post 40, Zachstralkita wrote:Thanks *logs back onto club pegnuin*
F
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Post Post #43 (ISO) » Mon Jul 31, 2017 2:08 am

Post by Zachstralkita »

Zaphkael wrote:
I may extend if anyone is still planning to write. It's up to the champion.
I'll say 2 days left at most to put something in. Zaph, this cool?
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Post Post #44 (ISO) » Mon Jul 31, 2017 7:32 pm

Post by Zaphkael »

In post 43, Zachstralkita wrote:
Zaphkael wrote:
I may extend if anyone is still planning to write. It's up to the champion.
I'll say 2 days left at most to put something in. Zaph, this cool?
Sure thing, that's fine. As long as it isn't like 2 weeks it doesn't matter all that much
But I know, at the end...
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Post Post #45 (ISO) » Wed Aug 02, 2017 10:03 am

Post by Zachstralkita »

Hiya, this is gonna be judged by tomorrow at the latest.
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Post Post #46 (ISO) » Thu Aug 03, 2017 5:49 am

Post by Zachstralkita »

Fuck did you guys do to me. This was great. Was also actually super hard to pick cause these were great, like fuck you.


Spoiler: The Champion
Errantparabola









Story Critiques


Spoiler: Plaster Pecker
This was hilarious, lmao. the pig incident etc and the girl coming in at the end. My response to this isn't going to have a bunch of words not because your story doesn't warrant the effort,but because all the great things you did are foundations that you did a good job at mastering and I can place them rather concisely. The dialogue is perfect. You make your characters react in such a manner to the situation that I believe I'm actually there. Dialogue and stuff looks small but how you do it actually portrays whether or not you're able to create immersive characters and worlds in your story. You managed to kind of do character development in a super short timespan. They make the reader want to connect and take interest in the story imo. What else was I going to say? Oh yeah. This would be a pretty good written as a one-act play if it was a little longer. The problem is with me for some reason I will always take more interest in serious stories than humorous ones so with me as a judge you couldn't have won here :/ If this were in connection with a book I might read the book maybe.


Spoiler: No Man Disobeys
I absolutely love this story you fuck. I think it's my favorite one from you so far. I knew I was going to like it when I started reading it. Your worldbuilding is great and the way your subtly nuance the government being sinister as an undertone and build into it as it develops throughout the story is great. It's very 1984/Fahrenheit 451-esque. You do it in a way where I don't find the dystopian theme boring or having been done already, which is a super high point.

Zaphkael wrote:Steinham is a beatiful, blossoming city. The tall buildings tower high above the streets, filled with vendors and all kinds of people. All roads are radially placed around the central plaza, which causes the shape of the buildings to be somewhat odd. Steinham is the only city built like this so far, giving it a unique charm. Located on the central plaza is the most incredible building complex you could find: the Government Halls. The enormous gothic-styled building has no less than seventy-three towers, one for each politician seating in it. Built from the purest marble, it is whiter than snow. Silver ornaments and intricate statues are spread all over, creating an eye-catching contrast with the rosewood doors.

It's dazzling how incredible the presence of this building is, but it also shows just how powerful this institution is. Within Steinham's borders, the seventy-three politicians hold absolute power over anything. The job of a politician is sacred, and it is a position longed for by many. Elections are held only when a politician chooses to retire, making the amount of people who have held such power in history rather low. Needless to say, the amount of money they earn is extravagant.

It doesn't mean they don't care about their citizens in the slightest, though. This city is a utopia, beautiful and safe. There is no crime, no abuse and no sign of complaints. Residents are mostly free to do whatever they want with only one exception: the Favor.
The city is beautiful, and we, as people of Steinham, should be grateful for the hard work and contributions of others. Because of that, everyone has to do their Favor once in their lifetime.
Favor is defined as a task, chosen by the government. It can be anything the government needs it to be. It can be short or it can take years to complete yours, but it is an obligation. One cannot refuse to accept their Favor, nor can they choose to give up. What happens when you don't obey? Nobody knows. Nowhere in history is such case recorded.
One thing that interested me a lot and I actually can't tell if it was on purpose or not was how throughout the story our hero isn't really confident in his convictions. It makes me think he's not a law abiding honorary citizen, but a rebel that didn't admit it to himself for some reason, and that's like, maybe how the rebels operate????? right I'm not making any sense I'll go into that later. How you go into thoughtcrime here is very great, by the way
The contents of the box are classified, and even though I'd love to know what is in it, one does not doubt the choices of the gouverment. It's neither wise, nor legal.
All I have to do is take it with me and bring it to Liberty Street 58-6 in West-Steinham. It is reachable from the Halls in a mere ten minutes. Ten minutes, and this would be over. I'll be home in time for dinner.
I left for my destination, as instructed. Would it... No, it couldn't be. You see, rumor has it that the delivery adress was a rebel's headquarters. Of course, it's impossible as nobody would start a rebellion here, would they? They would break nearly all rules and laws in the constitution, and for what reason? No, this city is perfect. Nobody would commit such crime.
Unfortunately, these thoughts only fuel my burning curiosity. Forgive me, I'm a man of honour who abides by all laws, not because I have to but because I believe that the gouverment is good and pure. Yet, I desire knowledge, someting I wasn't given when receiving this package. Would a peek hurt?

No.
Rule one, paragraph two.
Nobody thinks about questioning the gouverment.
What I am doing is wrong, period. There was just one street I had to walk before arriving at my destination, and I would complete my Favor soon.
This struggle is that of a corrupt man, something I am not. Or am I?


By thinking about this, I already broke the law. Nobody knows about it, though.
So...what if I brokw it again, without anyone noticing? Just one look and it would all be fine again, my hunger for knowledge stilled.
Yes, I will.


Rule thirty, paragraph three.
Under no circumstances will any citizen ignore orders regarding their Favor. Any information given about a citizen's Favor is also all information that will ever be given to and acquired by said citizen. Disobeying this rule is considered treason and will be harshly punished.

Purposely breaking the law is the strangest feeling. It is wrong, but it doesn't feel that way. It's frightening to know just how easy disobeying the law is. Is this what being a criminal feels like?
The box isn't sealed, and can be opened easily. There is a certain irony in having strict laws surrounding the Favor, yet being foolishly naive in protecting it. I...
The bold is like.. some instances of it. It makes me think this guy's depressed or manic or somethting. It's pretty interesting. I'm just thinking. Or overthinking. Rumors of the rebel headquarters were just floating around like that to the point where the government was like "yeah we know where this is at its over here" too? I get the part where our guy is sent to blow it up so the government can retain their image as peacekeepers, though. But if our man and all these other people were such great citizens as they were indoctrinated wouldn't have they like... told the police or something? The cops don't have to kill rebels to arrest them right? It wouldn't be breaking the law? Fuck man I have a problem. I'm reading a story like a mafia game. Don't get me wrong I don't think this is like a flaw here, I just don't know if something deeper is flying over my head.

He acknowledges that the rules mean nothing if the government is in blatant hypocrisy of them and opts to blow up their building. But he like comes to this conclusion so very quickly, after earlier he acknowledged no one has ever denied their Favor before, so it makes me feel like his attitude the whole time he was feeling bad about it and the government in general which maybe led to like, his sporadic actions. Pretty good story. I dunno I hope I made some sort of sense but yeah. You're actually a great writer. I want to give you the win here but EP kinda blew me away.



Spoiler: Blue and Green
This is brilliant actually. I don't know if I'm just easy to please, but fuck. To start, your details and imagery are flawless and I think this was one of the points that really sold this story to me. I struggle with making things vivid in my writing so a lot of the things I want to convey probably do get lost a fair amount. I think I felt literally everything I needed to from reading this though, with the way you wrote it.
EP wrote:Humans are nothing if not adaptable, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I sit in the shade and run my finger across my lips, feeling the rough skin—each crack serving as a mark for the days spent in this arid hell. For a moment, I wonder what I look like. Perhaps I look rugged, fit to survive in the harsh conditions, with an unshaven chin and a hard edge whittled down from months of toil and tribulation. But it seems more likely that my beard does nothing to hide my gaunt features, and that my eyes are as lifeless as the landscape.

Orange and yellow—it’s nothing but a sea of orange and yellow, meeting at some indistinguishable horizon. I look up, and the sun pierces the thick dust from just above the mountains. It sets the sky on fire, as if the sun were telling the heavens that any benevolent being that was up there had no power over the earth. Orange and yellow. Perhaps once beautiful, now sickeningly oppressive.

Slowly, I stand up. My shirt is at this point more of a rag, the original design little more than ugly grey at this point. A tear in the back gets caught on a nail and widens with a soft ripping sound. The nail scratches me and I inspect the damage, looking at my scars that alternate with the faded brown of my shirt’s bloodstains, records of the darkest parts of my history. Grey and brown, grey and brown, grey and brown.

I look at where the scratch intersects my past injuries, and remember where one particular scar came from. It was back when there were three of us traveling together, back when I had companions and stories to beat back the fear, the emptiness, the terrifying thought that we may be entirely alone on this planet. One night, with two of us sleeping and one of us keeping watch, the creatures came for us. As we scattered, one of them slashed my back, and I cried out and fell. Without missing more than a step, one of my companions picked me up in his arms and started running. The other gave us a quick nod, drew his knife, and turned to face our pursuers. I looked at his eyes then and saw conviction, and my protests died in my throat. Together, the two of us ran away from him, and the distant howls and the crunch of boot against gravel muffled the quiet sounds of our sobs.

We returned when morning came, carrying only a sliver of hope with our heart. And when we saw the blackened embers of last night’s campfire spattered with red, even that disappeared. Red and black. Life to death. Three to two.

And we could do nothing but carry on. Conversations became more scarce, but we would share the occasional glance and we would understand everything that was left unsaid. We slept less—we had no choice, with only two of us to split the night watch. But we survived, and increased our rations to split two ways instead of three, and adapted.

The best thing about your descriptions is that they capture the emotion you want to convey and present it to the reader effectively as fuck I think, which was massive for me here and something that's hard to do as just like.. a whole undertone of your story. The ration splitting thing is a perfect example of how little things in a story can be a huge impact without the author having to literally tell you shit. I perfectly got the post-apocalyptic image that was being portrayed. Another high point of your story(and Zaph's) is how it's literally all prose. My stories are fucking nine thousand percent dialogue. Seeing you write something as amazing as you did with zero "dialogue" is a very pleasant contrast to me.
Occasionally I pass by the remnants of once-survivors. Back when I couldn’t stand the smell, I would hold my breath and look away from the grey corpses, skin and bones bleached ashen from the passing of the days. Now I look, and I wonder if they would have had any stories to tell over the campfire. Sometimes the remains of the dead rest together, and I wonder if they were family, or friends, or lovers, or perhaps partners of circumstance, as my group had been. Sometimes the remains are alone, with nothing but the street and the endless stretch of cracked, orange earth for miles. And I wonder if I, too, will soon join them.
++++++++++++++++


The ending was great. I actually don't have a lot of on hand synonyms for good . Its fire ???. Your story was dope b. The only thing that was kind of murky for me...
A wail pierces my thoughts and stops me in my tracks. The sign of life immediately puts me on high alert, and slowly, carefully, I open the door to the house. Heart pounding, I climb the stairs, following the sound of the cries, and enter the bedroom. On the bed is a child, and holding her, a woman. My eyes meet the woman’s, and I see that strange look again—those green eyes look so determined to cling to hope, the look that I only see before someone knows they will soon lose everything else. I had not seen that green in a long time, resilient and bright, like the leaves and trees of yesteryear. She smiles, and rests her head back on the pillow, and never opens those eyes again.

The baby is still crying, and I walk towards her, slowly picking her up and cradling her in my arms. Eventually she calms down and reaches towards me with small, fragile hands, and I see yet another color from the past, except this time, it’s the color of what was once the sea and the sky. Her face is still wet with tears and her blue eyes look worried. I think to myself that it’s because she hasn’t seen what’s out there. It’s innocence. It's the eyes of someone who still has something to lose.
It was actually unclear to me when I got here and saw the mother die that she was dying, I had to read it back lmao. Is she dying from starvation? or injury? Sickness? I assume the former was implied... in which case how has like, the baby survived all this time?


You did a good job with the hope thing but it did feel kind of cliche. Like this guy had to be cradled and his friend got ate like 30 feet away from him then his other man dies from starvation but he still hoping too and now he finds a baby that he has to provide for in a mostly abandoned world with apparently hostile monsters and he doesn't have a gun or a steady amount to eat? Jeez she must have some great eyes for that hope level


But yeah great story. Gave me vibes of the Telltale Walking Dead game series. Good shit.

















The problem with small entry pools is that we have small champion pools and less variety cause we're only seeing a few people's fiction. But I'm sure the people who write the stories aren't the only ones who read them and the content is great enough that it isn't too major of a problem. I'd just rather this not die like the last one, lmao. Amazing content across the board
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Post Post #47 (ISO) » Thu Aug 03, 2017 8:18 pm

Post by Zaphkael »

Thanks for the wall of feedback, it was interesting to read
EP most certainly deserved the win
But I know, at the end...
Shoot me a message if you need a game reviewed!
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Post Post #48 (ISO) » Fri Aug 04, 2017 4:40 pm

Post by Titus »

I'll try to enter next.
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Post Post #49 (ISO) » Sun Aug 06, 2017 7:03 am

Post by Errantparabola »

Thanks so much for the comments, they were nice to read. And yeah, it definitely was pretty cliche-- I didn't really have any original ideas =^=

Here's the next prompt:
"It's time for you to do me that favor you owe me."

1800 words.
did another ms user do something lovely? recognize their achievements here!

Today's modern mafia consumer demands dozens, nay, hundreds of roles that are vanilla cops.
--implosion
provided
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