[Writing Contest] - THE ARENA

pickarooney

In an effort to provide an outlet and a little side entertainment during the down periods between (rounds of) the bigger writing contests, this is an experiment in a new format of one on one writing battles. My idea is to give this a shot in a fairly rough format and to tweak the rules as it goes on. Here's how it works:

We start off with the first two contestants to throw their hats in the wring. A theme is given and the two have 24 hours to write around 300 600 words on that theme. Voting then begins, using the thanks button, and runs for 24 hours. The winner then stays on and faces the next challenger.

To start off, I'll give the first theme when the two contestants are ready. Thereafter the challenger gives the theme. We might change this later so that some third party gives the theme if it turns out the challenger has too much of an advantage by pre-writing a story.

Contestants will need to keep scores themselves, both of the votes and number of consecutive victories. Obviously, bragging rights go to whoever wins the most fights in a row. In the event of a draw, the champion stays on.

In order to try keep this rolling, challenges must be accepted within 24 hours and the clock starts as soon as the challenge is accepted. You might want to come up with your own personal catchphrases for issuing/accepting challenges and announcing victory.

The first two posters to respond to this thread go into the ring.

Antilles

GOURANGA!

Also Starring LeVar Burton

LET'S DANCE!

pickarooney

Excellent. You pair will do battle on the self-referential theme of "The Arena".

It's all gone meta now...

THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE!

Also Starring LeVar Burton

Mines done, but there's pros and cons to posting it early. Need to post it before the deadline regardless, because I'll be in work tomorrow, so I guess there's no time like the present...

Also Starring LeVar Burton

“Are you ready, Big Man?”
“I’m not going to fight tonight Skip. Call it off.”
“Call it off? Quit joking around Mikey, and get your head in the game.”
“No joke. I’m done Skip. Call the fight off - I can’t do this anymore.”
“You can’t just quit. You’re Mike Dexter – two fights away from becoming World Champion Cage Fighter and record holder of most consecutive wins. I understand you’re nervous, but get a hold of yourself – we’ve got big money riding on this.”
“God Damn it, Skip, I said I’m out and I mean it, so call the fight off and find yourself someone else to represent, because I’m finished.”
“Represent? Represent? Is that all I am to you Mikey? A manager? After all we’ve been through?”
“You know that’s not what I meant. You’re my best friend.”
“Then as my best friend, go out there and kick some ass!”
“I can’t do it. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“Of course you can do it. You have to do it. For me. For the little guy. For the guy who can’t fight his own fights. For the guy who got the crap beaten out of him every single day as a kid, until Mike Dexter came along and stood up for the school punching bag. You’re the people’s champion, my champion, and two fights from now, the world champion. So what the hell is stopping you?”
“Vlad’s dead, Skip!”
“What?”
“Annette called a few minutes ago. I killed him Skip. I killed him. And I won’t fight again.”
“Mikey, what happened to Vlad was an accident – he was warned not to fight last night. He knew the risks - it wasn't your fault. But I understand. I’ll call the fight off and we’ll go for a drink. Drink to Vlad’s honour. Ok?”
“Thanks, Skip.”

Mr E

I guess we better wait for Antilles before voting.

Alternative dialog for Cian's story:

"Click click click"
"Whats that Skip? Vlad's dead?"
"Click click click click."
"You killed him?"
"Click click click"
"You punched him in the face, driving his nose bone into his brain, killing him instantly?"
"Click"
"Streuth."

Antilles

When the dazzling light faded, he opened his eyes and realised he was no longer on the space station. Instead, he found himself in an enormous coliseum, filled with an audience of thousands of hideous green- scaled creatures. The aliens roared a sudden cheer and a chill ran down his spine. He turned and saw an enormous monster with dark red skin and three cranial horns, running on all sixes towards him.

He scanned the area for weapons. Feet away, he saw them: spears, knives, firearms, scattered across the arena floor. He scrambled forward and too late, the creature turned to follow. He lifted a rifle, turned and fired. An energy beam exploded from the muzzle, knocking the beast to the ground. He ran back towards it.

"Please," it groaned. "I'm the..."

Taking no risks, he fired again.

The audience cheered and a blinding light flashed behind him. He turned and saw a purple creature, smaller than the first but with five legs, standing in the middle of the arena.

"Is this the afterlife?" it shouted. "I'm the last of my kind!"

The spectators guffawed, and suddenly he realised why. The nuclear war at home had finally killed everybody else. He too was the last...

And he would stay so. He took aim and fired.

The creature collapsed, fatally wounded by the energy blast. The rifle flashed "Empty Battery," and he dropped it, kneeling to pick up a knife instead. He understood the game now. When this creature died, another would appear, and they too would duel to extinction.

The light flashed and another creature appeared. Like him, it had two legs, but only two arms instead of four, and brown fur covered its head but not its pasty white skin.

"It looks weak," he thought. "Like an easy kill..."

pickarooney

The early submission seems to be backfiring, CapNeg. You're taking a bit of a beating here

Antilles

Three deaths vs one death.

The people want what the people want

Also Starring LeVar Burton

pickarooney wrote: »

The early submission seems to be backfiring, CapNeg. You're taking a bit of a beating here

Indeed. I was taking a risk sticking entirely to dialogue anyway, but Antilles story is far superior regardless (it'd definitely get my vote)... Best to be beaten by the best as they say...

pickarooney

Not to mention by Mr E who's not even in this round... You guys do realise it's Captain Negative vs. Antilles, right?

Mr E

I wasn't entering. Cap's entry just reminded me of Skippy.

Antilles

GOURANGA!

Next?

Mr E

I accept the challenge.
Looks like I get to pick the theme/topic.

Regret.

pickarooney

Challenger's choice of topic.

Antilles

Challenge accepted. Let the battle.... COMMENCE!!!

Mr E

They say when you're about to die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. As Geraldine saw that truck bearing down on her, she only saw regrets.

Three years ago, when Adam moved to New York, she should have followed him. Long distance relationships don't work. They'd tried it for a while, but drifted apart. She loved him, but five thousand kilometers of ocean may as well have been five million.

Two months ago when Dad died. She got the call to say that her Dad had an episode and was in hospital. She should have dropped everything and left, but that pot-bellied prick of a supervisor pleaded with her to stay an extra hour to do that customer call. Dad had another turn that day, and if she'd left earlier, she would have had a chance to say goodbye.

The fight she had with Simon that morning. It just wasn't working out. They'd been fighting a lot lately, and this morning's was about nothing in particular. A slammed door. Some tears. Leaving the house in anger.

The shrill horn of the truck snapped Geraldine back to the present. A self preservation instinct kicked in and she turned the wheel sharply. The truck shattered her passenger wing mirror into smithereens as she mounted the roadside verge and came to a stop.

As she sat there, heart pounding in her chest, she wondered if she still had Adam's number.

Antilles

“Regrets, Stamford?” the detective replied as he lay on his death bed. “Only one.”

I let the silence sit between us for a moment before responding. “That’s not bad, Rake. One regret in sixty-five years is bloody impressive.”

He stared into space then, contemplative as always.

“What was it?” I asked.

He sighed and turned away, glancing at the morphine drip beside his bed. “The death of your wife, the beautiful Mrs. Stamford, remains... unsolved.”

My heart thundered against my chest as he turned back to face me. “That was thirty years ago, old boy. We’ve been through so much since.”

He smiled, and for a moment I saw the old Aberforth Rake shining through. “Rake and Stamford,” he said, fighting a coughing fit. “Embarrassing the constabulary wherever we went. How many did we solve?”

I leaned forward and took his hand. “Dozens, hundreds. You were the world’s greatest detective.”

He looked into my eyes then, as lucid as he’d ever been. “I was. And despite my regret, Stamford... I’ve always known who killed your wife.”

An icy chill spread through my body. I didn’t reply, praying he would be wrong but knowing how unlikely that was.

“The carefully cleaned wine glass,” he said, “The series of alibis, red herrings and dead ends. The actions of one schooled in murder...” He paused and looked away again.

“...of a master detective...”

“Aberforth, I --”

“...or his assistant, Stamford.”

I released his hand.

“You knew, all this time?”

“Of course.”

Silence.

Eventually, I nodded. “What now?” I asked, standing. “You turn me in?”

He shook his head, examining the backs of his liver spotted hands. “No,” he sighed. “Not after thirty years, Stamford.”

Unable to bear the tension, I turned then and left the room.

It would be the last time I saw my best friend, the great detective Aberforth Rake.

Also Starring LeVar Burton

Looks like its gonna be another landslide victory for Antilles...

Mr E

I humbly concede.
Well done Antilles.

pickarooney

Tapping out - interesting. Someone hose down the floor for the next challenger!

Mr E

When it went 7-0, why continue?
I'll be back!

pickarooney

I forgot to put a clause in about insta-rematches. I was going to say either the champion didn't have to accept them or he/she gets to pick the theme if he/she does.

I must have a go at this myself during the week.

Antilles

GOURANGA!

Kinda want to write longer stories with the characters and settings from my two stories here now, heh

Anyway, gg and thanks, Mr. E!

Next?

FewFew

Ok, game on. Theme - "Chance". I better now go and read up the rest of the rules, damn my newbie ways.

Edit - Ok, so the 24hours kicks off once Antilles acknowledges my challenge yeah?

Antilles

It's on like Donkey Kong!

FewFew

The white king fell with a solid clunk.

Sinclair stared at his fallen hope, wishing the chess piece would right itself. A long clump of grey hair hung down in front of his eyes, part of his normally immaculately kept hair. The sweat on his brow had undone his hair gel. He continued to stare at the piece.

He was a tiger among kittens, the type of man that would walk into any situation, take charge and make you love him, until the realisation dawned that he had sold you on when you were of no more use.

The suit he wore was obscenely expensive and just one of many in his collection. The contents of his humblest wardrobe would easily have paid one of his employees for a year. Now the suit clung to him, drenched with sweat. There was a bright pale sun in the cloudless sky, but it shed little warmth.

“Come on you fool! Snap Out of it!” he shouted inside his head. “You’ve been winning your whole life, you’ve brought countries to their knees with no more than your pen! This is NOT going to happen!”

Sinclair reached his hand out and picked up the king. He marvelled at how such a small thing could cost him everything. Chess was something he had a passing interest in, but never the time for more. His game was made of stock brokers, inside dealing and loans so big that no bank dare call them in.

He took a chance that chess would come naturally to him like so many other skills. Now it was time to take another chance. He placed the chess piece down, wiped the sweat from his brow and pushed his fringe to one side. “It seems you’ve won.” Sinclair said to his opponent. The reply was a nod. “Double or nothing perhaps? Let it all rest on the flick of a coin?” He tried to remain calm as he waited for his answer. Again came the nod.

Sinclair put his hand into his pocket and produced a pile of coins which he placed on the table. It looked as if he picked one out at random, but he was a man who liked to stack the odds. He flicked the double-sided coin into the air and called “Tails!”

He caught it in the normal fashion and lifted his hand to present the prize. He didn’t even look, but smiled in victory. It was only after his host failed to react that Sinclair looked at the coin. “Heads?! But how?!” he turned the coin over and again it was heads.

He stared at his opponent. “You can’t cheat death” the voice said in ancient tones, though no lips moved. With that the reaper stood tall, his scythe blocking the paved path into the valley. Sinclair rose slowly. His gaze followed the pointing finger of the reaper and he began to walk into the endless pale desert.

Antilles

They came at four o’clock in the morning. Three heavy bangs on the front door, and Saul Hendrie’s eyes shot open. His heart pounded hard in his chest. “Rachel... Sarah?” he whispered, “Are you awake?” His wife Rachel lay motionless on the floor beside him. “I am,” she said. “They’re at the door, Saul. It’s happening.” “I know,” he replied. He threw the blanket back and climbed to his feet, unsure how the Nazis had found them.

Downstairs, the soldiers pushed past Madame Rousseau and into the hallway of her home. Saul stepped over his sleeping daughter and opened the bedroom door he had camouflaged as an old bookcase.

The Germans moved through the house, shouting as they checked each room. Saul scanned his family's living area just as the first man began climbing the stairs. He cursed. One of Sarah’s dolls lay discarded in the middle of the room.

The first German had reached the top floor of the house, just meters from their hiding place. Saul stared at the doll. He could take a chance that they wouldn’t think a rag doll in the posession of an elderly woman unusual. If they questioned it, though....

Saul realised he couldn’t take the chance. As softly as he could, he stepped out, reached down and plucked the doll from the floor before returning and swinging the bookshelf-door closed. Sarah stirred as he stepped back into the room and he crouched down to place the doll into her hands. Outside, the German's boots thumped across the wooden floor. The soldier stood in silence then, while Saul held his daughter and prayed.

After a moment, the soldier turned and left the room, shouting "Allez klar!" to his commander. Despite the darkness, Saul could see his wife smile. He nodded, and squeezed their sleeping daughter’s shoulder.

darkestlord

Don't want to clog up the thread. But got.to say this was a tough choice. Two good stories but their can only be one.

pickarooney

I too needed a couple of read-throughs before I made up my mind. Looks like time might be running out for the king...

Mr E

It was a tough choice. Both really well written, but the first was a better story.

Antilles

After a challenge is accepted, entrants have an initial 24 hours to write around 300 words. Then voting begins runs for an additional 24 hours.

Pickarooney, can you clarify does voting begin only after the initial 24 hours is up (i.e. 24 hours after the challenge is accepted), or if both stories are submitted before the initial 24 hours is up, does the 24 hours of voting begin as soon as the second story is submitted?

pickarooney

I hadn't really thought about it initially but as there's no way of knowing at what time someone thanks a post it seems to make sense that as soon as the stories are both up the voting can begin.

Are you both OK with this one ending at ten to midnight tonight or should we let it run until 9.20 tomorrow morning? Whatever you decide yourselves for now and we'll make a rule about it for next time. As I type this it's 5 votes each...

FewFew

I don't mind either way, not really in it to win it as it were, more for the exercise.

Antilles

24 hours after the second story is posted makes sense.

Memnoch

I agree that voting should last 24 hours after both stories are posted.

Also Starring LeVar Burton

24hrs once the second story is posted seems like the best way - gives people a chance to read them both...
Can't believe how close this one is - 6 votes a piece...
What happens if there's a tie? Fight to the death?

Antilles

If there's a tie, Fewcifur and I have to co-ghostwrite the next Tom Clancy novel.

pickarooney

pickarooney wrote: »

In the event of a draw, the champion stays on.

Fewcifur needs a vote to swing it.

Let's make the 24 hours after the second story official as nobody seems to object.

Antilles

CaptainNegative wrote: »

24hrs once the second story is posted seems like the best way - gives people a chance to read them both...

And although it hasn't been mentioned, I assume if the champion doesn't accept the challenge/submit their story within the 24 hours, its a forfeit and the challenger becomes the default champion?

pickarooney

I thought that was explicit but yes that's the way of it.

Oryx

And what happens if they tie?

Antilles

And what happens if they tie?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZkuCPYf16xI

Antilles

7-6, not too bad!

Congratulations, Fewcifur. I hope you have as much difficulty coming up with something for your first challenger's theme as I had for yours

FewFew

Antilles wrote: »

7-6, not too bad!

Congratulations, Fewcifur. I hope you have as much difficulty coming up with something for your first challenger's theme as I had for yours

Thanks Antilles, it was a close thing, which is always nice. I've no doubt I'll be off the hot seat in no time.

Daleno

AWOOOGA!

I challenge Fewcifur. The theme; Death!

FewFew

Daleno wrote: »

AWOOOGA!

I challenge Fewcifur. The theme; Death!

Can I just use the same story again

Let's Dance good sir, let's dance.

Daleno

Fewcifur wrote: »

Can I just use the same story again

Let's Dance good sir, let's dance.

It was an inadvertent choice of theme, I swear!

Anyway, here's mine. As you said previously, not in it to win it, just for the exercise.

---

She was laughing, full hearty laughter. The sort of laughter that you hear coming from the mouths of pretty girls in those old movies. Melodious, full of life. She would throw back her head and it would flow sweetly into my ears. I couldn't take my eyes off her, she seemed to sway back and forth in my vision, everything else but her face was slightly blurred and twisted; out of focus. I guess that was the purpose of the glass of absent I held between my index finger and thumb.
I had met her only a short while ago in some unknown bar in some unknown town. I was drifting, I've always been drifting. As I sat there watching her dance around the small room we had taken for the night, oozing sex, temptation and desire, I found myself itching to get away from her. But it was only a slight buzzing in my head and easy to ignore. I physically shook myself to dispel the idea. Hell, why would I want to get away from... what was her name? I asked her. She looked at me with heavy lidded eyes, piercing through me, clearly upset that I forgot her name but then just burst out laughing and fell onto my lap, spilling some of her drink down my mostly unbuttoned shirt.
My head was spinning. The drink was strong, I could barely think straight. I heard thunder rolling outside and heavy rain being blown hard against the window. I should close that window, I thought. I made to get up but she was sitting with a leg each side of me pinning me down. I could hear her voice droning in my ear, like she was underwater. "I'm sorry... I wish things could be different." I know I realised, vaguely, on some level, that I had been drugged but I don't think I remember feeling the knife slip inside me. I died an unknown man, in an unknown town, by an unknown girl.

FewFew

Seems odd writing about the theme of Death in light of the news we got around here yesterday. I wrote this with senseless death in mind...



**** The Council of 13 ****

The Council of 13 assembled as they did every century since man began to remember. 13 dark wooden chairs stood empty around a simple round wooden table. Slowly, at the appointed time, the council members appeared.


It was tradition to introduce themselves. Their ranks changed each meeting, depending on new ideas, new people and dying dreams.


The first to sit was the first to speak.


“I am that which was feared but now sits iconic on man's creations. Only when I collect do they know reality” he sat pale of skin and robed in black, his scythe lay tall against the table and his proud white horse stood behind.


The next was similar to the first, but no flesh covered his body and his robes were torn. “I am that which cursed the middle age of man, when plague gave me my colour and my stock.” his voice was as deep as the first despite his skeletal appearance.


The third was completely different. His beard was long, his voice was filled with wisdom “I am Father Time. Man does not fear me as he did, nor associate me as much with death, but I am eternal.” He wore heavy dark brown robes, once rich but wearing thin and in front of him was an hour glass.


“I am Azrael” said the next, assuming all knew the angel of death, black winged and bearing a blade.


Yama of the East spoke next, “I still ride my black buffalo and lasso my souls, as I have always done.”


An old ugly woman, with a long blue nose spoke next and when she did all could see the poisonous purple tongue in her mouth “I am Giltine of the Balklands. My people have travelled far and I with them.”


A winged man, fair of face, stood and introduced three “I am Thanatos, sworn to Hades. To my left is my sister Keres, violent of nature and finally to my right is Mors, who is but me in a different land.” Mors was in truth like the speaker, though androgynous and Keres was bestial, with talons, fangs and blood soaked robes.


A shadow stayed silent, but they all knew it as the first death, a primordial thing with no name.


The eleventh was biblical, his pale sickly green horse pronounced him as one of the four. “I am he who will come at the end to cleanse the world of life” he said before laying a long sword on the table with a thin dead hand.


Anubis was twelfth. He was one of the few who ruled a land of the dead but still attended the council. He was a king among knights, but he showed due respect. His voice was heard first in an ancient tongue, but then the echoes were of the common tongue. His bare flesh was tanned and healthy, but his head was that of the black jackal.


They looked to the 13th seat where once sat Aukon, the gravekeeper of the Celts. It appeared empty.


The Reaper spoke “we are one short”


The response was a voice tiny and yet everywhere, the voice of nothing and yet billions.
“I am the host that man now fears the most. I am that which grows infinite. From cancer to AIDS to the simplest germs, I am that which modern man fears. They fear me because I am nothing yet many. I am legion. I have no name or image, yet I am on every man's mind. I take the innocent, the pure, the corrupt and more. I strike without warning and without reason. How can man fight that which he can't see and that which keeps changing. Last century and the next are mine. I am senseless. I AM DEATH.”


And the council commenced.

Memnoch

Fewicur -

I don't mean to be controversial here, but I did not vote for your last story because it felt like Terry Prachett. The idea of playing games with death and trying to cheat death was something that he explores a lot in his novels. The idea of different deaths of Azael etc is also something that he writes a lot about and again at the start of the new story you have posted I kept getting the feeling again...

Maybe you've never heard of him and this is all in my head. And isn't all fiction derivative anyway?