[Writing Contest] - THE ARENA

I wonder could we have a mini battle for thursday? My internets down, and I won't be able to do any other times.

Should me, you and the winner (Pooka?) have a threeway for saturday?

I think it'd be interesting to do three

Sorry, just caught up now - I'm pretty tied up this weekend, but happy for you two to go ahead and I can take on the winner of that next week!

let's go for it

I'll be gone Monday-Wednesday so Thursday is the earliest I'd be able to make it :P

But, yeah, cooking is fine haha

Ficheall wrote: »

Bump.

C'mon folks, can we get cracking on this thread again - I've run out of material for reading on the bog.

I'd love to squeeze out a story, but I'm feeling a little wiped from the weekend, and really need to post elsewhere right now - I'm long overdue, since my writing tapered off in August. In these type of contests I usually end up being number 2, as people seem to think my writing is a little scatty, but if you plop down a theme, I will try and try . . . and try to be a Good Boy and write something presentable.

There. I wrote my "elsewhere" post first. Now I feel better.

The Pooka wrote: »

Would be up for a round, if anyone's biting

Only saw this now, I'll bite if you're still up for it? Suggest a topic, any topic and I'll roll with it.

Challenge and topic accepted!G'luck

SCHADENFREUDE

In the beginning, there was nothing – or, to be more precise, billions of microscopic somethings that'd yet to form a cohesive whole. And then, a collision; an ignition; an explosion; and from these, life; matter; being. This we know – or can, at least, logically presume – and though the debate rages on vis-á-vis the specifics, I feel it stands to reason that, in this day and age, the question of how we exist has given way to the more pressing matter of why.

Now, don't get me wrong; by all means, we should continue to question whether our origins are natural or divine in... well, origin. But it's important not to lose sight of what truly matters in the process – and, hackneyed as it may sound, I do sincerely believe that, in finding you, I've finally found the purpose I've so lacked of late. I don't even know your name, yet for some reason I can't shake this feeling that the rest of my life depends entirely on what I do next.

Why, then, not simply approach you, take my chances, be a man, et cetera? After all, the only thing worse than momentary public humiliation is, I should think, perennial mental torture – and no matter the outcome, 'twill be a pretty paltry audience: elderly gent in the far corner flicking though a newspaper, mother with young child near the door, our increasingly bored looking teenage waitress and a few miscellaneous singletons and couples.

But of course, the 'supporting cast' is ultimately meaningless: it's all about you. That blonde, sun-kissed hair that first caught my attention; the eyes, the windows to the soul: a sparkling blue, just as they should be; bosom: sizeable, definitely sizeable – and don't go thinking less of me, now; this is naturally part of what's taken into consideration, by all of us; call it survival instinct...

But I digress.

The simple truth, phrased at its most basic level, is this: if I don't act now, I'll never know. At present, we've a Schrödinger's Cat sitch on our hands, and it's high time to open the box, eliminate all doubt, proclaim it either living or dead – in short, piss, or get off the pot.

And so, it's happening... I'm crossing the café... Mere inches separate us... We've made eye contact.

"Hi there. I know this may sound...odd – and my apologies if you dislike public displays of affection, or whatever this qualifies as – but I just felt that, if I didn't speak to you, I'd regret it forever more. I've been... 'admiring' you from over there, near the window, for the last half-hour or so and... Well, I wanted to ask you out. On a date. With me. Now, please, feel under no obligation to say yes – and of course, my apologies too if you're already spoken for; if so, just say the word. But I simply couldn't let the chance pass me by to lay this out and see if you were maybe feeling similar... So. What d'you say?"

You're looking right at me. You are beautiful; in fact, perfect. You speak.

"Es tut mir echt Leid," you say, "aber ich kann Sie nicht völlig verstehen. Ich spreche nur ein bisschen Englisch."

The café suddenly seems a lot more crowded than I'd originally perceived. Everyone has heard; they must have done. The sniggering is bound to come next.

In five seconds, I'm at the door.

In ten, I'm rounding the corner.

In half a minute, I'm three streets away.

God – if, indeed, the bastard exists – has one twisted sense of humour.

Congrats on a great story Pooka, you really had me drawn in and it was very well rounded with the subtle introduction of the topic at the last. Best of luck!

I was too late too