Mwc10: Jan/feb: Tts: Entries

[WritersBlock]

MWC10: Jan/Feb: The Tale of Two Stories

ENTRY THREAD

All official entries must be submitted here. No linking to your story hosted elsewhere, no discussion whatsoever in this thread. All discussion of this competition belongs in the: DISCUSSION THREAD.

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Welcome to the first monthly writing competition for 2010 (and the first in the writing forum). This contest will run the course of two months, rather than the standard one, but will require participants to write two stories this time around.

DISCLAIMER

Please read through the entirety of the opening posts and familiarize yourself with the rules and regulations of this competition. All participants must comply to the rules listed below, as they are final. Failure to comply will result in disqualification from the current competition.

MWC10: January/February: The Tale of Two Stories.

Happy New Year, everyone! I'm super-psyched to get into another year of the monthly writing competitions, as I hope you are too. We've decided to kick 2010 off with something a little tougher than normal, but I hope that doesn't stop anyone from trying. This competition's theme is an open one, however, the requirements this time around are for two stories, and not one.

Two short stories in two months is very doable, but we could just do that in two separate contests. And this is where the challenge comes in. One story is limited to 20 words. No more. No less. The second story must be an extension of your first.

There are no theme restrictions this time around, as the challenge in this competition is in the word limits. Being able to write a great story within a restricted word limit is a handy skill to have. Many magazines have their own word limits set out for writers to adhere to, in addition to their themes, so here's a bit of themeless practice for when all of you budding young writers make your way into the world of professional writing.

THEME RULES/RESTRICTIONS

1) You MUST submit two stories.
2) First story word limit: 20 words, exactly.
3) Second story minimum: 2,000 words.
4) Second story maximum: 5,000 words.
5) The second story must build upon your first.

DEADLINE

March 8th, 2010, MIDNIGHT Newgrounds time (ie midnight between March 8th and March 9th).
NOTE: Deadline has been extended a week from the usual, first of the month, because it was planned to get the competition up much earlier. Yes, it is less than two months still, but it's much more than one month. Plenty of time.

PRIZES

1st) $60 Newgrounds store credit.
2nd) $40 Newgrounds store credit.
3rd) $40 Newgrounds store credit.
4th) $20 Newgrounds store credit.
5th) $20 Newgrounds store credit.

SUBMITTING

1) Post your stories in this thread.
2) Do not post revisions in this thread. They will be deleted.
3) You may submit one story only, one time. Posts will not be deleted at your demand so make sure your work is perfect before posting here.

MWC RULES

1) Contestants may submit exactly one entry. No more. Users found trying to smart ass their way around this rule will be disqualified from this and an arbitrary number of future competitions to be agreed on by the judges. (You are your alt and vice versa)
2) Users caught posting writings which they do not own will face imediate disqualification from this and any future contests. That means don't try to pass other's work off as your own, you will fail and we'll all hate you!
3) Users must submit on or before the given date. NO EXCEPTIONS!
4) You must follow the rules of this BBS. If you have a question about whether you will be breaking them, contact a moderator.
5) HAVE A BUNCH OF FUN! OR ELSE!

GETTING REVIEWS

The judges do not HAVE to review your work and give you a detailed critique, there are too many entries in most contests for that to be a plausible option.
You have the following options none the less:
1) I highly recommend that you review someone else's work, in that way, they may return the favor. ;)
2) There is both a writing club & and writing guild in the Clubs & Crews section which is there as an open forum for writers to post their work.
3) PM the specific person you would like to review your work and hope they will.
4) Post a link to a newspost on your user page which contains your story again, in either the discussion thread or at the end of your official submission in this thread.
5) Mingle with the people in the writing forum. It's the hip new place to be.

JUDGING

If you'd like to judge, feel free to volunteer by PMing WritersBlock. You must of course be well versed in writing and reading and judging fictional works. If you are still in your early years of high school, its probably better to wait a while and get your writing up to snuff. Judges can't be in it for the prizes, so don't get down if you aren't selected to judge.
If you really want to be a judge and haven't been accepted yet, the best way to be noticed as a good candidate is to review your fellow writers' works for them. Let them know how they can improve, what their weaknesses are, and what you enjoyed in a respectful well put way and you'll be one step closer to judging in the future.
Judges for this completion are:

WritersBlock
Fyndir
BankingOntheEnemy
Mystery Judge No.1
Mystery Judge No.2
JUDGING PROCESS

Users have requested in the past know exactly how contests will be judged. This is our attempt at being open with our process. If you have specific issues with the way we judge entries, you are encouraged to pm a judge. Posting in threads about the system used to judge pieces is off topic, so please don't do it.
Judges rank users on a 10 point scale. And then submit their results to the contest organizer, that's me. I then take the top five scoring submissions from each judge and give them a set number of points to eliminate any bias present from the 10 point scale. A judge who gives a piece his highest rating, gives that piece five points. The second highest piece gets four points and so on. Points awarded from judges are totaled and the user who has scored the most points is considered the winner. In the event of a tie, the averages of the 10 point scale results are used to break.
As a board of judges we attempt to read all submissions posted to the contest. In the event that there is unexpected turn out, we may move to a two phase system. The first phase is an elimination phase where stories are split up between judges, with overlap. Top scoring submissions from each judge make it into the final round of judging and we revert back to the system described in the previous paragraph for the final set of stories.
By submitting a story, you not only agree to abide by the rules and regulations of this competition, but you also agree to accept the terms by which we judge your piece. If you cannot do that or feel there need to be changes, you may PM WritersBlock.
Please note, judging may take a while. Please be patient.
LET THE CONTEST BEGIN!!! GOOD LUCK!

Protip: If you want to win, double return between paragraphs!

[Fro]

Story 1 - Revelation Extinction

A person once said, "Men don't completely understand what true darkness is until they are left alone in complete seclusion."

[Fro]

Story 2 - Revelation Extinction / Part 1

April 14th, 2009

It happened so fast, but at the same time managed to last a life time. It was like time itself didn't even exist, at least not in a way comprehensible by the human brain. We were all just sitting in the lounge playing pool like we would on any other Tuesday night when the unthinkable happened. The ground opened up in a deafening roar. They poured out by the thousands in one fluent motion like a sea of darkness. Not one looked exactly the same, but many had the same common attributes. Boney sharpened claws, dark rotten flesh, and a mouth of razor sharp teeth that made me cringe just thinking about them. They struck so fast that nobody really had a chance to realize what was going on. Even if we did have the time, we still wouldn't have known what the phenomenon happening in front of us truly was.

Nick and I headed towards our room, but once we had reached our destination, we heard the crashing sound of shattering glass through the door. We knew that one of those things were inside. I just ran with no idea where to go. I noticed that the door of the study lounge that separates the male and female sections was slightly ajar. Before my mind could catch up to my body, I found myself running towards the door. I threw it open and entered the lounge, with Nick following close behind. As soon as he flung his body into the room, I forced the door shut. Without giving ourselves a chance to rest, we quickly took some of the desks in the room and fortified the only door to the room. I quickly glanced around the room, looking for other things to barricade. There was only one window, which was too small for anything to get through. Regardless, we took a metal bed frame that was stored in the corner and blocked the window, further bracing it with one of the remaining desks.

And then we sat. We didn't talk to each other and I doubt we thought of much. It was nearly impossible to think as everything was being drowned out by the ferocious howls of the monsters and screams of horror and pain. As the night went on went the sounds lessened and lessened. Whether it was due to the receding adrenaline from my body or because of the lack of noise, I reconnected with my thoughts and my mind started to race. As the night grew quieter with each additional hour that ticked by, I started asking myself questions. Was this happening everywhere? Was my family dead? When would we be rescued? Were we even going to be rescued? These thoughts, accompanied by hundreds of others, repeated in my head over and over.

I did manage to go to sleep though I never believed that I would or even could. I quietly searched the room to get familiar with my surroundings. It's probably something that I should have done the night before, but exhaustion and shock probably wasn't letting my mind think straight. There really wasn't much in the room, actually. There was a mirror on the wall opposite of the door, two chairs, a couch, a couple of extra bed frames, the desks that used to barricade the door and window, and a table. On top of the table there were a few scattered papers with chemistry notes written on them. Those are the papers that I'm writing on now. I figured that if these beasts were ever stopped or that I had ever gotten through this event alive that some sort of documentation could be beneficial. Not to mention that it kept my mind busy long enough not to go insane. A loud crash from down the hall made Nick jump out of his sleep in a violent manner.

April 15th, 2009

We hear the cry of people dying less and less as time goes on. We haven't dared risk a look outside the window, but I could only imagine what the scene would look like. When I think about it the memories of the night before flood my mind. People having their limbs being torn off, almost as the creatures were making a game of it. The tossing of bloody limbs and people back and forth, making people suffer before they died. There was also the terrible smell of death that seemed to surround us more and more as the day went on. Just the thought of it made me want to vomit, but with each time I somehow managed to choke the vile impulse back.

Nick and I had finally spoken, but we did it quietly and sparsely, in fear that we would compromise our position. We talked about where these things could have come from. It could have been a species that lived underground and had finally found its way to the earth's surface. Perhaps it was a government experiment gone wrong or a terrorist attack. That's what my brain told me, but my heart told me something else. What if these creatures were actually demons from hell? Of course, this brought the next set of logical questions to my head. Why, and why now? What made this time so special? Perhaps hell had reached its population limit? If so, what better place to move on to then where the source of its population was coming from in the first place? It would be like killing two birds with one stone.

Before the night we figured that we had a pretty bad problem on our hands. In the rush to find shelter we hadn't thought of getting food or water. Even if we would have thought about it at the time we wouldn't have had access to any supplies. We'd have to venture out eventually if we wanted to stay alive. Our room wasn't more than twenty feet from our location, but that twenty feet might as well been twenty miles. We had no clue what would be in the hall or in the room itself. However, we knew that we had to do it and there wasn't any time like the present. Frankly, we didn't even know if there would be a tomorrow.

April 16th, 2009

Nick died today.

[Fro]

Story 2 - Revelation Extinction / Part 2

May 4th, 2009

I've finally found the will to write again. God, the horror that I saw once we left the room was unbearable. We had to venture out for some sort of food to stay alive. The trip only resulted in one of us staying alive though. Was it really worth it?

We moved the desks away from the door as quietly as we could. While the area always smelled horrible, once we opened the door, it engulfed us. The air was thick with the smell of a misty blood, and pieces of what used to be parts of human bodies were splattered against floor and wall alike. The room wasn't far, but I couldn't have gotten there any sooner. I unlocked the door and peered into the room. The window had been shattered in and the inside of the room had looked the same as the hallway we had just come from. We didn't dare look out the window to see what the world had become. There wasn't any time for it, anyway. Nick shut the door behind us and we started to gather supplies.

What we wanted more than food was water. We had a new unopened case of bottled water in the room so we threw it in my dirty clothes bin. We then proceeded to put in all of the food that would fit. I non-verbally agreed to carry the supplies as Nick would lead the way opening the door to the study lounge for me. We turned one corner and had a straight stretch to the study lounge. As soon as we reached the door it swung open seemingly on itself. One of the beasts was already inside, waiting for us. Its claws ripped for Nick's face as he was thrown down to the ground. I didn't even attempt to save him, but God I wish I would have died trying. I got inside the room and threw the door shut as fast as I could. I scrambled to get enough desks up against the door to stop anything from getting through. Nick screamed on the other side of the door. He didn't exactly scream for my help, but I realized that he didn't want help to live, but he wanted help to die faster.

After the screaming had ended, I spent the next couple of hours crying. I beat my fists against the floor and the wall, Nick's scream for help repeating over and over in my head. Why the hell hadn't the beast taken me instead? Why hadn't he killed both of us? Had we made too much noise moving the obstacles from the door, or had the creatures knew we were there all along? I came to the conclusion that it had only killed one of us as some sort of sick game. In reality, what better way to make someone suffer than taking the lives of everyone they love? The pain by far exceeded any physical torture I could have gone through.

I did finally muster up the stomach to eat the day after he died. A part of me thought that he wouldn't have wanted me to save him, as deep down in his heart because he knew I would have died with him. At least this is what I told myself, because it slightly helped me cover up the tremendous amount of pain that I was in. But still his screams echoed in my head. When I do manage to fall asleep I am only woken up with this scene of horror. To pass the time, I tried to figure out what to do after this food and water have ran out, but I couldn't think of any possible scenario that would get me to a location with food and back to my safe haven without dying. On top of that, I would also have to leave through the door where Nick had died, and I don't think that I'll ever be ready to deal with that situation. Time will only tell, but I'm afraid of exactly what it's going to tell me.

May 7th, 2009

It's odd how weak humans are as a species. At one time I would have thought we were the dominant species and almost a vital part of the world. My desire to live was completely dependent on having another person here with me. Now that I have nobody I have lost this desire. I studied myself in the mirror for the longest of time today and what I saw wasn't a man anymore. I saw no emotion whatsoever. Doesn't that make me the same as those creatures out there? I'd like to believe that they didn't have emotion, and now neither did I. When this whole thing started I was afraid, confused, and saddened. When Nick died, I was angry at myself for being such a coward and not dying by his side. I even wanted to take my own life, but I now know I can't do that because I don't feel alive anymore.

But now I don't feel anything. I don't want to be sad. I don't want to be happy. I don't want to be angry, and I don't want to be content. I don't want to live and I don't want to die. I don't want anything. I do find it kind of ironic that as the rest of my last piece of paper is being consumed with my thoughts that I have finally given up on this thing called life. I had once said that this was all happening because hell had become overpopulated. Now that hell has moved onto Earth, where will it go next or is this its final destination? There are many questions that I can't answer right now, but what I do know is that I have lost all desire to survive. I now know what true darkness is.

[Dubbi]

This story is only 1646 words long, but writer's block said it was okay! :)

A Nod Returned

In the time since my fateful decision many of the friends, relatives and former colleagues who remained in contact have asked me several questions regarding the experience. Whether their inquiry resided in actual compassion or just the curiosity to know if Jimmy Norton was as crazy as everyone says he is, the questions always remained the same. The redundancy of answering the same thing over and over again for an apparent eternity is starting to drive me mad, so this will be my last say on the matter. Without further ado I present my final response to the perennial questions of why I did it and if I thought it was worth it.

Contrary to what we want to believe, we alone on not the sole deciders of our own destiny, there is greater force which ultimately lies in the heart of one's own being, one's soul. Despite its monumental significance, we scarcely ponder it, we just go about our lives recklessly making expedient choices, but any choice made in conflict with this force is futile. My experience with this truth was no exception. For this reason I always knew my former life was a mistake, I always knew which inherent debater would prevail and I always knew my destination, I just didn't consciously realize it until a certain moment many months ago. If one wanted to know the exact details of that moment, when I first became consciously aware of my obligation to my subconscious, I would respond (but thankfully I don't have to any longer) that my epiphany of some sort occurred in my bedroom where like on many nights before I laid beneath my covers desperately trying to fall asleep. This particular strenuous night saw my exhausted body laying restless on my bed incessantly twisting and turning, begging my brain to grant a vacation, who refused to oblige until his supposed master let his conscience catch up to him. The argument being debated between my superficial self who would have much preferred my current state of living against his more sophisticated equivalent had seemed to be going on for quite some time. Hesitantly, I removed the covers from my face and glanced at the clock resting on the wall opposite me. To my extreme agitation the hour hand was ticking ever closer to the impending XII. It had become discernible that a conclusion must be reached. Almost instantaneously whether by fate, magic or whatever the hell you wish to believe the debate was resolved with latter debater prevailing, which caused a wind of relief to buffet against my body. The incessant oscillation that plagued me ceased, having been replaced with a glorious slumber.

The days that followed were shrouded over a façade of bliss. My mind was at ease and a newfound sense of conviction had overtaken me. There was no doubt those days were sublime, but inevitably ephemeral. If I continued to endlessly wallow in the status quo my ambition would remain just an ambition. The time had come for me to proceed onward and the first thing on the list was to confront my greatest hero, but for that reason my greatest shortcoming, my father. (If you mistake anything from this tale please don't let it be my previous statement, for if this is the case the preceding 553 words were written in vain. My father was a great man and at that a great dad, who just wanted the best for his son.)

One of the more noteworthy memories I retained from the day I had a talk with my father occurred before he even arrived at the agreed upon 8.00. I was sitting restlessly on one of pair of chairs arranged on my patio anxiously awaiting his presence while tormenting at the thought that he wouldn't be late, (For he was the type of man who would gallantly risk death before disrespect.) when in an attempt to compose myself I commenced a course which I hadn't journeyed on in many years. This course brings me back to grade school where a teacher whose name escapes me once told me, "If you ever got too anxious, just close your mind at stare at the sky." Partially to my own surprise, I did just that.

What began as a simple relaxation exercise transformed into a meditative trance. Never before had I been so mesmerized over the ubiquitous beauty of nature. My eyes awed over the peaceful light blue hue of which they desired, but only to be kept separated by the vast distance between them. At this rejection they leaped to the lush green trees and bushes that were dancing in moonlight after being spurred on by the gregarious wind. At such peace they all were, the smiling sycamores showed neither signs of greed nor any indicators of stress. The spectacular sky had no blemishes of sorrow anywhere on its tremendous canvas, but what impacted me the most on that perfect summer day were the birds, yes the birds.

Two dozen of them, maybe more, were flying overhead in unison, but not one of them flew with any selfish intent nor was a single bird scheming to swindle a few cents from their associates. They flew for themselves and flew for each other for they all wanted to achieve their own dream, but none of them wanted to do it alone. And as they continued their journey towards the south I swear each and every one of them nodded down to me, a nod which I didn't return, for I had no right.

Soon after (several minutes before eight), my father arrived in the driveway, disembarked from his Grand Cherokee, and hurried towards the patio. There was an unmistakable confidence in his posture and jubilance in his steps, both of which were unquestionably caused by me and I feared that this conversation would rip both attributes from within him. As our proximity shortened we began to stare into each other's faces, he into my anxiety stricken countenance and me into his amiable face and receding hairline, which had aged and grayed respectively, much more than I remembered. It truly had been too long.

"Oh it's been too long son, you don't know how happy I was when you told me you wanted to have an old father so talk" and I knew he meant it.

Suddenly the arms of my father wrapped around me with such force that an onlooker might misinterpret it and think we hadn't seen each other in years, a misinterpretation that would be almost true.

"It really has. Wait here, I'll get us some beers", and as we began our drinks so did our conversation.

"Dad can I ask you something?"

"Certainly son", he replied with his famous grin.

"Did you..., did you like your job?"

"Well it couldn't get us the house you live in now", he replied proudly.

"I'm not asking whether it paid well, I'm asking whether you actually liked it", I asserted with a bit of irritation which quickly brought a bit of remorse.

"Is there a difference", he inquired with a laugh, a laugh which I reluctantly returned. "Well what could I say, it was a construction job, not the most glamorous job in the world, but it brought home a paycheck and I worked with the best guys you'll ever meet. So I guess I did enjoy it, but I always wish I could have given you and your sister more."

"Dad, Rachael and I couldn't have asked for any more. Since you brought up the subject of your deranged co-workers can you remind me of the story where you and Dan Rogers almost got fired when."

My dad cut me off, "this old nut job refused to pay us because he was convinced we put in the wrong tiles, so on the way out Dan screams to him, why don't you do us all a favor and go to a nursing home!"

We spent the next twenty minutes reminiscing on old tales and telling new ones, but when the stories dried up it became apparent that I needed to tell my father the reason I organized this meeting.

"What's the matter son", my father inquired compassionately after seeing the distress written on my face.

"Dad I don't know how to tell you this, you've always seemed proud of me being a lawyer, but I need to quit."

"What are you talking about!" my dad wailed. You spent your whole childhood saying that's what you wanted to be!"

[Dubbi]

"Because that what you wanted me to be! I was just a kid dad, a kid who wanted to please his father!" I roared, the lock on my anger having been broken.

My dad's countenance changed from a one of vehemence to concern.

"What's all this about son, he inquired consolingly.

"I can't do this any longer, being a lawyer, all the lies, deceit and vanity. I have a friend in the construction business, who promised me a job, dad, I'm just asking for your blessing."

"Son, you've always had my blessing"

My father put down his drink, as I did the same; we rose and embraced in an even greater hug than our previous.

Now that the former question is answered I'll move onto the latter. Well as predicted the income was drastically reduced as well as the extravagance. Working in the scorching heat doing pretentious patrons bidding (Coincidentally some were former colleagues) may seem feeble when compared to working in an air conditioned office and receiving ludicrously high pay, but there's nothing feeble about self respect. So as I sit here, on one of the previously mentioned chairs now arranged on a different patio situated in a much smaller property, finishing up my story, I again gaze at the birds flying overhead and this time I nod back.

[Dubbi]

Story 1

When we do what, in the inside, is not true, we are bound to enter an abyss of terrible failure.

[TheReno]

Sacrifice

The President saw the soldier's relief and closed the mans eyes. One final sigh was released before the missle struck.

[TheReno]

"And now we go to Suze whose reporting from the site." the reporter queued.

"Thanks Martha. As you can see, all the soldiers have broke out into party mode. At 12:28 A.M Eastern time key Taliban leaders were found out and captured. With this new revelation the war has come to an end in Afghanistan. With no head, the serpent of this war has died. Any and all resistance has suddenly stopped." Suze reported, being jostled every now and then by a partying soldier. She took a deep breath before continuing. She never got the chance to start her next sentence.

An Unmanned Aerial Vehicle (UAV) loaded with cruiser missiles launched its payload at the unsuspecting soldiers and reporter. They struck in sporadic locations but the effect was devastating. Dead soldiers and shrapnel lay everywhere. Those few left alive were greeted with a scene of total and absolute carnage. This was just the first of thousands of similar attacks in Afghanistan. All a prologue of the next event.

***

Over three thousand miles away U.S Navy war ships circled Taiwan. One ship in particular, the USS Zumwalt, was about to be fully tested whether the crew wanted it or not. The USS Zumwalt was the first of the new Zumwalt class of destroyer vessels and was on a shake down cruise when the unthinkable happened.

Unlike the multiple attacks in Afghanistan the American Military saw the enemy, that is to say Chinese Republic warships moved into an offensive position as if they made to take Taiwan. Just like the attacks however was that the American forces were unprepared when the attack came and it was just as devastating.

Also it took place at 12:28 AM EST

The hulls of each ship was thrown open by the hundreds of thousands of charges placed on them by Chinese aquatic forces. All but one that is.

As part of her orders to be executed during her shakedown cruise was to constantly check over the hull when in friendly waters. As such, there was a team checking the external hull when the Chinese made their move and thus were left alone 'less a warning were to get out. It wouldn't have mattered.

Vice Admiral Richard Starkman was currently on the bridge when the attack started. He had been called up from his formal tour of the ship when orders came in to target the Chinese naval ships. Once he arrived he had only a few short moments to get oriented with the situation when they were attacked. Upon seeing his fellow navy boats sinking he ordered the attack. A salvo was already on the way when the Zumwalt fired its armament. It was promptly destroyed but the Zumwalt managed to take two Republic ships with it. All a prologue of the next event.

***

"A number of former Soviet states have rejoined Russia along with a few new players. This wasn't a random act of aggression. This was planned, calculated. They want war." Secretary of Defense Tom Appleton said. "Its almost like they are picking up where they left off during the cold war and changed some of the pieces around."

"Whose jumped aboard with who?" President Murray asked.

"Well its a bit of a hodgepodge sir. Moldova and the Ukraine have decided to stay independent but are willing to be used as a conduit of supplies and military forces. All the stans including Pakistan but excluding Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan fly under the Russian banner. Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan along with Mongolia, North Korea, and Vietnam Are holding with the Chinese in a sort of I scratch your back you leave my land alone deal. South Korea has submitted to North Korean rule so that they can avoid war. Georgia, Azerbaijan, and Armenia are holding solid against Russia. The rest are staying hoping to stay out of the fight."

"What about Taiwan and Afghanistan?" The President asked with a tone that suggested he knew he wouldn't like the answer.

"One hundred percent out of our control." Secretary Appleton answered "And before you asked the sites in Afghanistan were attacked by UAVs launched from cargo planes thought to be owned by civilian companies. The Taiwanese attacks are still being investigated but satellite photos show that all but one ship was destroyed at the same time."

"Any idea how?"

"Well the only way we can figure is that each ship had charges planted on it. It seems our Asian friends have perfect sonic stealth technology." Appleton said, finishing his piece of the conversation for now. The President looked at each of the cabinet members before continuing the line of questioning.

"Gentlemen, any suggestions?" At this the Secretary of State spoke.

"Well NATO has shored up the borders of member nations and a few non member nations who have asked for their aid, this justified as countering the enemy offensive." The Secretary of State Donaldson took a deep breath before continuing. "They have kept all air traffic trying to leave the Russian and Chinese territories from doing so and their under a heavy blockade. Unfortunately that wont do much as they have all the resources they need to continue this campaign."

"Right. But what do we do?" The President prompted. Secretary Appleton filled the ensuing silence.

"Well with the exception of Taiwan and Afghanistan, every country that has fallen under new leadership did so willingly."

"Looks like we have two targets to consider." The President said simply. The plans were made in short order. They would have retribution. There was only one problem.

***

"Today, President Murray announced his intentions to go to war with joint Russian Chinese forces in Taiwan and Afghanistan. Surprisingly a majority of the US doesn't want to go to war, instead pressing the President to seek a peaceful resolution. In fact the only support Murray is finding is from the families of all those fallen in the unprovoked attack." Katie Couric said sadly. Unlike most of America, she was not a fool.

America had gotten too swept up in the peace movement.

When Obama left after his term was up, he left after having done an ok job. Helped the healing process along and it looked like America was on the verge of an economic boom. Only one thing stopped it from coming. Afghanistan. Obama didn't leave and neither did his successor Carl Murray. The difference here is that the news kept quoting economists as saying the end of the recession would come finally if America got out of Afghanistan after Obama left office.

But what led America to look at 100,000 plus casualties in a single day and say negotiate was part Al Gore's fault and part Americans' natural tendency to go with the herd. And of course the news. Al Gore created the mind set of seeking to live in harmony (with nature) at any cost. The more people who adopted this philosophy got even more people to believe in it until the message of stop global warming at all cost had been perverted to seek peace at all cost.

Even if it meant shrugging off 100,000 plus deaths and threatening congress members with no chance in hell of re-election if they voted to go to war.

***

[TheReno]

"Why can't the Republicans ever be in control when it matters most?" Donaldson complained. "At least they know when to throw all their chips in."

"Well we got to do something!" Damn it all we can't let this happen. The Ruskies have blown through Georgia and the rest of em and Iran has jumped on board with em, no surprise there." Appleton said hotly. "Turkey's holding and the Iraqi people are giving em a fight but they haven't had enough time to get everything together since we left. It looks like they are trying to push through to our oil and cripple us. Worse still is Japan has shut down all exports and commandeered all sea worthy vessels to repel the attacks Chinese forces have been launching. The Chinamen have also bypassed the mountains by going through Pakistan and using paratroopers in what we can only assume is the set up for a pincer maneuver to seal up the Asian side of Eurasia."

"How's India faring?" President Murray asked, concern and worry etched into his face.

"So far its undecided. They could pull off a Stalingrad at their capital but only if the Russians don't invoke the joint part of joint Russia China army." Donaldson said calmly. "Like it would matter though. The damage has been done. Nearly all of our outsourced services have been discontinued. Moving all back here at once has broken the camel's back on all the work put in to fixing the economy."

"What are we to do?" Murray asked angrily. "I can send in the forces for a counter attack but what good is that when we have no money to fund it? Can't bomb em cause they will just bomb us back and the war effort will be pushed back further by the public."

"Sir, I have an idea" Secretary of Defense Robert Pao said quietly.

"Well speak up man!"

"Well sir." Pao said, speaking louder for everyone to hear. "Your not in bad shape. If you were to personally lead the counter attack, fight in the trenches as it were, then it might garner the peoples admiration and flip the switch that gets the war funded."

This was met with extreme disapproval and led to an uproar in the meeting, only being quieted by the President saying "I like it."

***

"So when are we moving into Kuwait?" Mikhail asked his friend. Sergey gave him a warm smile and smacked Mikhail on the shoulder

"So eager to see more sand? You know vodka will only make things worse here." Sergey replied, laughing a bit at his friends expense.

"I still wouldn't mind a ..." Mikhail retorted, but was interrupted as both of the Russian soldiers heard a helicopter. They were stationed at the heliport in the city of Basrah. Their jobs were, when they weren't moving the front forward, was to monitor what came in and what left via the heliport. "Hey Sergey, is there a flight written on the manifest?"

"I don't think so. Let me run in and check." and with that Sergey left his friend and ran into the four story building. It would be the last time he saw his childhood friend. Operation Eagle Drop was in effect. All across the city Apache attack helicopters opened up on enemy encampments taking out several triple A positions and knocking out all immediate air support. Sergey had only made it to the third floor when the guns opened up. He grabbed a passing soldier and pulled him back.

"What's going on?"

"We're under attack!" the soldier shouted before breaking away and running off.

"But how!?" Sergey shouted after him. The soldier just turned around and jogged backwards while he shrugged his shoulders. Sergey didn't care anymore. He charged up the stairs to try and help his friend. Upon opening the door he was shot several time in the chest. He stumbled back and fell down the stairwell, dead before hitting the bottom.

"Guess the training just paid off" President Murray said from a crouched stance, still looking down the sight. He stood up and ran to the right side of the door while his squad mates took up positions behind him or on the other side. Sergeant Elwood checked the inside and the stairwell and gave the all clear signal.

They ran on down the stairs to the floor below. Upon reaching the door to the third floor they took up the same position except it was Private Williams that opened the door with the sergeant covering him. He kept low and slid the muzzle of his gun through the crack and opened the door slowly. The hallway of the apartment complex was clear. The group proceeded down the hall slowly, clearing the rooms as they went. Any room that held equipment was investigate while the supplies were destroyed. They shortly arrived at the other end and entered the emergency exit and walked down to the second floor. The group took up their positions with the President and Elwood covered Williams. He barely got the door up when four slugs slammed into his chest, his fate the same as Sergey's.

The sergeant pulled a grenade off his bandolier and rolled it to the apartment door closest to the group which blew it wide open. Murray provided covering fire as the right side of the group charged through the door into the apartment. When that side was through, Murray filled the hallway with bullets as he switched sides and provided cover fire as the men behind him did the same thing but on the opposite door. During all this the President scored a few kills but was left alone in the stairwell when the Russians went to rush up to him.

The first floor door flew open and a group of soldiers belonging to Spetznaz rushed in while Elwood's team was providing covering fire for a man who wouldn't be able to use it. Murray took a few shots at the men charging at him before beginning his own ascent. He burst in to the same floor he had just cleared and tossed a flash bang down the stairwell as he hauled ass down the hall to a defendable position.

The President holed up half way down and aimed down at the only entrance. Two soldiers were foolish enough to rush in and paid the ultimate price. The rest slowly worked their way in using similar tactics as the American forces did. Losing a man only occasionally, the Spetznaz force slowly zigzagged towards Murray. When they were only a few rooms down the President through a flash bang and frag grenade at the same time and closed the door.

He reinforced it quickly and ran to the middle of the apartment. He placed the remainder of his grenades in a pile on the floor, only keeping one, and placed his door breach charges around them and pulled the pin on the top grenade. He dove into the bathroom as the explosion went off. Quickly he got up and jumped through the hole as the Russians broke through. He landed in the apartment below in the midst of Russian forces defending against Elwood's men.

President Murray was able to shoot a couple of them before he charged in. Two of the soldiers engage the President in hand to hand combat while the others kept trying to hold the American forces at bay. Murray was able to slash one in the throat but was soon ganged up on as Spetznaz forces dropped through the same hole and grabbed him. Right as they were about to slash out his own throat Elwood himself burst through. He shot the man with the knife and killed another soldier before ducking back out in defense. It was all the President needed.

President Murray dropped his last grenade as he tumbled out of the room, pin in hand. When it went off the last of the second floor's resistance was silenced. Sergeant Elwood helped the President up and slapped him on the back.

"Could have just followed us sir."

***

"It is confirmed then?" Putin asked.

"Yes sir. Satellite images clearly show the President entering the south side apartment." General Aleksandr replied.

"And the city?"

"Estimates say that without reinforcements the engagement will end in a decisive victory for the Americans in two hours time."

"Good. Send a nuke."

***

[TheReno]

Elwood took a round in the chest. A couple of men pulled him to safety while the rest fired back. The electronics store was one of the last pockets of resistance left in Basra. The President took careful aim and waited for one of the two soldiers to poke their heads up. When one did it quickly went back down, a new hole to go with it. As the last soldier went down a runner came up to Murray.

"Sir" he said shakily, looking like he had just murdered someone in front of Jesus.

"What is it son?" The President said, a smile breaking out on his face for the first time since he'd been here.

"H..here" the runner said handing him a satellite phone.

"Hello?"

"President Murray?"

"Yes? Who is this?"

"Sir this is NORAD. The Russians are using some new technology to jam all outside contact leaving only direct sat calls as the only means to contact you. We have some bad news."

"Oh?"

"Yes. The Russians have launched a nuke and are sending it to your position. They are using heavy air support to keep all attempts at stopping it at bay. We can't stop it. I'm sorry." It was at this point that Murray dropped the phone. He stood there for a bit before screaming in rage and began stomping on the phone. When he finished he walked over to where Elwood was.

"Did we win sir?" He asked weakly. The President gave a weak smile.

"Yes sergeant. We won."

[Flyingdingo0827]

Creation

If a man wields a pencil and paper, does he have the power to create life or take it away ?

[byteslinger]

Story # 1: Lost Moments

Tick: Driving late at night.
Tock: A tire blows out.
Tick: Metal shrieks, glass shatters.
Tock: Alone in the darkness.

[byteslinger]

Story #2: Moments Saved

Dark. I know it's dark. I know there should be more than just dark. But I don't know what else there should be. I..I am...who am I? I don't know. I think I should be scared, but I'm not. I don't feel scared. I don't feel anything. I know that I am...aware. The words are hard to find. The memories behind them are distant, in a fog miles away. I know there should be more - but I don't know what.

There is no feeling of time here. I know it takes time to think these words, yet I don't know how long I've been here. I want to feel something; I know I should be feeling something. Anything...

I wait in the darkness, maybe a second, maybe a year. Nothing changes. No new memories, no new ideas. I'm not afraid, I'm not hopeful - I'm not anything but aware that I am. In that awareness, I do know one thing - that there is more to this, more to me. I just can't seem to find it. I may never find it, but in this world where time is meaningless, how long is never?

Tick.

A sound? In here? It sounded like an old clock, ticking once. How did I know that? I waited for another one, the other half of the sound. There should be more.

Tock.

Another sound, a little different than the first. Definitely a clock. But it doesn't sound right. It sounds too slow. Somehow I know this, too. I know that clocks tick faster than this. Maybe it's not a clock at all. Maybe I'm imagining this. My mind could be creating things to fill my darkness. Yet how can I imagine things when I don't really remember anything?

Tick.

The first sound repeated itself. It came from all around me. No direction, no beacon, no source - just a sound. No echo, either. It said its peace, and then it was quiet once more. I waited. Nothing else to do but wait.

Tock.

The second sound repeated again. The sound of a clock crawling, tired and run down. I know it should be faster. I know that, somehow. But I don't know how I know...

Tick....Tock...Tick...Tock...

The pattern continues, and it is comforting in some way. Almost like a mechanical heartbeat. As I wait, listening to the rhythmic sound, I realize two things: The sounds seem to be coming faster, and I think I'm finding more words to describe them. I still can't feel anything; my body and my mind are numb. I'm not even sure about my body at all. This is the first time I've thought about it, the first time it seemed to matter. You can't have a mind without a body, and I know I'm aware of...this...existence. And I know that to exist in here, there must be something more beyond this.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The clock seems to be speeding up now. It sounds more like a clock and less like a slow pendulum. Pendulum? Where did that come from? This is intriguing. I'm starting to remember more words. I can describe things in more detail. Seems like I found a mental dictionary, and page by page, the words find a way into my thoughts.

But what of my thoughts? What of my memories? I know these words, yet I don't know me. I don't know who I am, or where I am, or how I got here. I have the words to describe these things, and yet I have nothing to describe.

I am now aware that I am incomplete. I know I should be scared or anxious - at least, I think that's what I should be feeling. But I still don't feel anything yet. How can I feel nothing, when I know I should be feeling...something...anything.

Tick.Tock.Tick.Tock.Tick.Tock.

The clock sounds more like it should. It seems to be keeping a steady cadence, and the rhythm feels familiar, like it's finally reached a normal speed. More words have come to my mind, and when I think of a word, I seem to get others along with them. I thought about "peace", and now I also know of "tranquility" and "rest" and "quiet". Synonyms. That's what they're called. Words that mean the same thing. I think of "alone", and more words flood my mind : "solitary"..."single" ... "lonely" ... "forgotten" ... "companionless" ... "detached".

I think of these words, and what they mean to me. Do they mean anything? It seems they do, for as I think of them , something else is happening. It's not a thought, not a word, nothing tangible.

A feeling. Yes, I feel something. I feel alone.

I don't know why I feel alone. I'm in my own mind - there shouldn't be anyone else in here but me. If there is, I've either had a complete mental breakdown, or someone else is in my head. Fortunately, all I sense is me. But it's that ironic fact that makes me feel alone.

I wish I knew who I am. I wish I knew...my name. What is my name?

From the darkness, a single word: "Anne."

My name is Anne?

The darkness answered : "Yes. Your name is Anne."

"Who are you?", I thought

"I am you", said the darkness.

Another feeling: Confusion. Me? How can it be me? I am here! I can't be in the darkness and be here. But I am in the darkness. Am I the darkness? Or am I slipping into insanity? But if I was insane, how would I know?

"How can you be me?", I thought

"I am you. I am your memories", replied the darkness.

"But shouldn't my memories have sights and sounds and be found with just a thought?"

"Just a moment...", the darkness answered calmly.

Tick.Tock.Tick.Tock.Tick.Tock.

I could remember numbers. I started counting the sounds. I was up to 122 when I noticed that it wasn't really dark anymore. It was now grey all around me, swirling and ethereal. In the clouds, some shapes started to form, and as they formed, colors started to fade into view. They became more defined, and eventually, everything settled down and all of the motion stopped.

I could see things now, and I felt my mind reach out to identify what it saw. A room. I was in a room. The walls were a pale blue and the floor was burnished hardwood. I looked up, and realized that the ceiling was black, but full of stars, like the night sky. Pieces of my mental puzzle started to fall into place, and now I felt my third feeling: anticipation.

The room had one door on one wall. It was a white door, quite normal looking - but it had no handles and no hinges. Near the opposite wall was a...table... and a ...chair. On the table were small frames, with pictures in them. I moved closer, which was odd in itself as I had no body, but the thought of moving closer brought me closer. It was like being in a first-person dream. But this was neither a dream nor a nightmare. It was something else...just not quite sure what.

I looked at the pictures, and there were faces of people in them. People that seemed familiar somehow. The first one was that of a mature woman in a business suit, dark-red hair tied up in a ponytail down her back. She was standing next to a metallic box that had lights on it. The box had the letters "N.I.S.S." stenciled on it. On the other side of the box was a younger man. They were both smiling. Looking closer at the picture, I saw that the name tag on the woman read "A. Neimas"

"A. Neimas"? Anne Neimas? That was me! I was in the picture! I recognized myself, and I felt my fourth feeling: elation. Then I felt my fifth one: displeasure. "Why the hell did I pose for that picture in that outfit? I look like I escaped from the fashion police before they could help me!"

(continued)

[byteslinger]

(Continued)
Story #2: Moments Saved

My mind was starting to come back as my memories slipped into place. The young man in the picture was familiar as well. His name tag read "P. Stone". P... "Peter!" yes, his name was Peter.

So far, so good. But why were Peter and I hovering over that piece of equipment? Why was that significant?

"Classified", replied the darkness.

Classified? By whom?

"By your orders, all information about project NISS is classified", spoke the darkness. Then it occurred to me. The voice from the darkness...it too, was familiar...it...it was MY voice! I really was talking to myself in here. But I remembered I used to do that a lot. It helped me to keep focus on what I was working on. I also remember how much it bugged other people when they overheard me talking to no one there. So, I'm a little eccentric. Sue me.

I looked back at that picture, and focused on Peter. How did he fit in all of this?

The darkness was more than happy to oblige. "Peter Stone, 28, head of the project design staff for Future Intelligence Technologies. Fluent in multiple system languages and operating systems. Excellent problem solver as well as a visionary in his field. Youngest member on staff to be awarded MIT's technology award. Married, one child."

It sounded like a mix between a dossier and a Facebook blog entry. But the details were fascinating - and I knew they led to even more information.

"How do I fit into this", I asked myself.

"Anne Neimas, 43, head of Software and Neural Network Design at Future Intelligence Technologies. Fluent in multiple system languages and operating systems. Strong mathematics and philosophy background. Published advanced theories on next-generation quantum-based neural network systems. Single, no children."

Apparently, the NISS project was something very powerful that Peter and I developed. I wanted to know more, but there were other pictures on the table - other memories to be found.

The next picture seemed to be of a younger man, yet taken years ago. He had a strong face, but gentle hazel eyes, and a smile that made you feel at ease. He stood in front of a small white house that had black trim, and the house number "682" was visible by the door.

Another feeling - this one very strong. Sadness.

I recognized the face. His name was John, and he was my husband, years ago. This was our first house - we moved in three years after we were married. I made him clean it up and paint it, because I wanted to have kids and settle down with my new family. I even wanted the picket fence and the little dog in the yard.

But then more sadness followed as the memories grew stronger. John died years ago in a car accident. He was on the way home from work, and some drunk ran a red light and killed him. I was told that he never knew what hit him. I've never been the same without him...

I didn't want to think about it anymore, so I looked at the next picture on my desk. An older couple with four kids stood in front of a different house. The memories came back faster now. This was my sister, her husband and their children. My nephews and nieces. Such a happy family...

Now I felt anger. But not at them. I felt anger because I would never have a family of my own. I remembered that a few years after my husband died, my world started to crumble. Just as I was contemplating about finding more companionship in life, a routine doctor's visit uncovered cysts, polyps and growths in my uterus. The biopsy came back positive for cancer, and at age 28, I lost all my reproductive organs so I could keep my life.

Then I felt depression. I was incomplete, less than a woman. No one would want me now. So I found solace in the machine world - a world where I could make whatever I wanted, and no matter what I did, it could never hurt me or leave me.

Machines that did what you told them to do. If they broke down, they could easily be repaired or replaced. They never betrayed you - unless it was a fault that I introduced. No one to blame but me. My world. My life. My creations.

TickTockTickTockTickTockTickTock

Something was wrong. The clock was going too fast now. My memories were flooding back to me, almost too fast to handle. But I still didn't know where I was...or how I got here.

The room disappeared. The sky was still dark, with all the stars shining brightly. But now, there was a full moon hanging forlornly just over the far horizon. I could feel motion, and I looked down to see that I am now in my car...

I remember now. I worked late that night, as I usually do. I lived alone, and I liked it that way. No pets, either. Not that I hate animals, because I don't. I just knew I couldn't take care of them the way they needed to be handled. I also didn't need to worry about loving something again just to have it die on me a few years later.

The road was clear and dry, and at this time of night, I had it all to myself. The radio was blasting some old-school AC-DC, and I was definitely driving faster than 55. It was my ritual - my way to unwind as I headed back home.

Without warning, I heard a small explosion from the front of my car, and it swerved rapidly to the left. I felt the car begin to skid and turn, so I tried to turn out of it. At that speed, even though I was breaking the local speed-limit laws, the laws of physics remained resolute, and I felt the car become airborne and flip. For a moment, I heard metal grinding and glass breaking...

And then it was dark.

And here I am.

It was all familiar now. I remembered it all. I know who I am, and how I got here.

And then I remembered something else...

I've been through this before. This isn't my first time through the darkness.

Now I felt fear. I remember the last time this happened, I looked for a way out. But before I could find it, everything began to turn to blue and then collapse.

I was back in the room again. I knew now that this was my mind, and the way out was through that white door. I had been here before ... and failed. I had to try again.

I approached the door - it had no handles or hinges, but it had a keyhole. I peered into it, but all I could see was part of what looked like a long hallway. It didn't matter. I banged on the door, looking for weaknesses. It was a wood door, and it did give a little. I needed more leverage - a tool...

I turned around and looked at the table and chair. It was an old table, with heavy wooden legs. I knocked the pictures off the table, not caring as they shattered on the ground. Then I kicked the table over, and wrestled with one of the legs until it came loose. It felt heavy, like a large club. The heavy end still had nails in it. These used to attach the leg to the table top - now they were spikes at the end of my weapon.

I charged the door, hammering the center with the makeshift club. The wood began to splinter, and with each swing, I could feel the door giving way beneath my assault.
TICKTOCKTICKTOCKTICKTOCKTICKTOCKTICKTOCK

(continued)

[byteslinger]

Continued)
Story #2: Moments Saved

The clock was no longer ticking - it sounded like a buzzer now, moving way too fast. I knew that I had to break through very soon - before that clock ran out.

With one final blow, my club shattered a hole through the center of the door. I stepped back, and with everything I could muster, I kicked at the hole. More of the door disappeared, and I could see the hallway through the ragged edges. I was almost out of time.

In desperation, I took a few steps back, and then ran at the door as fast as I could. I covered my head and used my shoulder to plow through the jagged hole...

...and I tumbled to the floor on the other side. I was out! I stood up, and looked up and down the hallway. It seemed to go on forever in both directions, and there were countless other white doors along both sides. No immediate exit - but at least I was out.

I didn't remember getting this far before. Maybe I could finally break the cycle? I started walking down the hallway, feeling much better now than I had in a while. The clock was still buzzing madly, but I didn't care - I was out of that room.

Suddenly - silence. The clock stopped altogether. No noise now. I tried to move, but I couldn't. Then everything around me started to fade to blue.. Everything blue...

.. and then to black.

Everything was dark again.

* * *

Peter Stone cursed under his breath as the Neural Imaging Synaptic Simulator crashed again. He looked at the system logs, and it was another memory exception error. Some part of the program kept trying to go places it wasn't supposed to be, which triggered a major system fault.

He had been working on this particular project for weeks. He had made a promise to Anne that he'd finish it without her. That was her wish as she lay dying on the hospital bed, her body failing from the trauma she sustained in her car wreck. She had called Peter that night, and told him to bring the portable neural recorder and every blank data drive he could find. He didn't understand why she needed it, until he arrived and saw how badly she had been injured.

"Capture everything", she said, as she placed the recording helmet on her head. "Save it all - save me", and she lapsed into unconsciousness. Peter stayed the night and the next day, recording all that he could from Anne's brainwaves. At first the nurses were upset, but a few phone calls from Peter to the hospital's administration staff quieted them down. After 19 hours of high-speed recording, Anne passed away silently in her sleep. Peter disconnected the recorder, said a short prayer, and headed back to the lab.

Uploading the raw information was easy. But now, it had to be integrated into the N.I.S.S. A lot of that was trial and error, as the neural net had to be formed based on the brainwave patterns and memory paths of the human template. Each time, it would seem to go a bit further than the last before it crashed, but he knew that sooner or later, it would work.

Then Anne would become the world's first synthetic personality. Not artificial intelligence, but an actual human intelligence recreated in a neural network.

Peter reviewed the dumps, adjusted some of the fractal generator parameters, and restarted the simulator for the twentieth time this week...

* * *

Dark. I know it's dark. I know there should be more than just dark...

[EKublai]

Story 1 - Child Changing Chains

The tundra of the subway imprisons all who stare into its mechanisms too long. What difference could a child make?

[EKublai]

The Subway by Ekublai
Word Count: 2611
Part 1

"Mommy... How am I going to get to school today?" Ellen's little daughter Paige asked as she picked up her finished bowl of Cheerios and brought it to the sink. Ellen put down her morning cup of coffee and watched Paige as she stood on tiptoe to reach the tap, and then sprang back with a yelp of glee as the water came on forcefully and splashed against her arm while catching some of her shoulder length blonde hair. Paige then walked over to Ellen and settled herself on Ellen's lap. She looked up at Ellen expectantly with a small smile, waiting for the answer to a question both had been wondering about for the past two weeks.

It had been 4 months since Ellen's husband had taken off in his car with a redhead at his side and no intention of looking over his shoulder, and since then Ellen had seen herself and her daughter taken captive by the buses of the Public Transit. Ellen saw this Machine and despised it for what it was. She hated the Machine, which was always broken, in need of a spare part, and taken care of by engineers who were only concerned with the color of the numbers instead of the depressed faces of its riders. Though she was fortunate enough to have a job with an adequate salary so that she could mold her hours around Paige's schooling, she was reminded everyday of those who were just below her, those who sat in the back of the bus in fear of reaching the jobs that never made life worth anything, and those who sat at the front with their faces pressed against the cold steel poles as though they were cushy pillows. Paige saw it too.

"Well honey, we do have a few options now," Ellen said slowly and cautiously to Paige. Paige's smile faltered slightly as she remembered the first time her mother had to use that word, 'option.' Paige had asked her teacher that day what 'option' meant and he told her it meant something along the lines of choice. But now, little Paige thought about how ridiculous that seemed. How can they be the same word? Choice was like telling the ice cream man that you wanted chocolate instead of strawberry, but when Paige's mother said 'option,' it was more like the school bully asking Paige if she would rather be punched or kicked. It depressed her further to hear her mother tell her the options, to know there was little choice to the matter.

As the two walked through their small, barren front yard they thought about the facts. They thought about how the city was so cruel to not care about mothers and daughters who needed the buses to get places and now could not because of the route cuts and fare hikes. They thought about the walk they now had to endure in January's frost and wind. Most of all, they thought about where they were going. Never having traveled by these means before, neither felt relieved nor any warmer as they walked down the flight of stairs under a big sign that said "Subway." The first thing they saw when they reached the bottom was a row of huge automated ticket booths. Then they saw the people in coats standing in front of the booths. The booths were ugly and green as they dispensed the tickets into the cupped hands of the people in coats as though spitting at their poor excuses for payment. And though she hated the Machine as a whole, Ellen knew the individual parts of the Machine were even more diabolical, the oily cylinders of the Machine's engine. After checking the map three times over, Ellen placed her money in the booth and took the two tickets it spat into her hands. She held Paige's hand as they walked down the long corridor to the ticket barriers where people walked through to the sounds of *ping* and the flashing of green check marks. She gave Paige her ticket and beckoned her forward. Experienced with putting her bus card into similar machines, Paige inserted her ticket and timidly pushed through the barrier once she heard the *ping!* . Ellen then took her ticket and put it into the slot. But just as she was expecting to hear the sound and see the check mark, the barrier regurgitated her ticket, accompanied by a flashing red 'X' and an annoying low buzz. The barrier operator, whose silhouette behind the smoky glass in the booth next to the barrier suggested an old woman, told Ellen in a tired voice to go back to customer services near the ticket sellers for a refund. Ellen looked at Paige on the other side of the barrier with worried eyes.

"Fine then, would you please watch my daughter while I'm gone? I'll be only a few minutes I hope." The operator's smoky head gave a very disinterested glance at Paige.

"Sure dear," she replied lamely. Ellen quickly walked back up the corridor, once again feeling the trace amounts of wind that escape underground form the streets above. It chilled her bones and made the refunding seem to take ages. Finally, new ticket in hand, Ellen made quick, small paces back towards the ticket barrier, desperately tightening her purple coat around her shoulder to hide from the stubborn wind. She approached the operator booth apprehensively before stopping dead in her tracks.

"Where is she?"

"Where is who? Your girl?" The operator said this without even seeming the slightest bit interested. "She said she needed to use the bathroom, so I told her where to go."

"By herself?" Ellen cried, "She's seven!"

"Well she seemed older. You've got a mature girl there."

Infuriated, but mostly scared, she went through the barrier and ran down the staircase to the main corridors. She had expected to see a sign that pointed towards the bathroom if it wasn't near, but she saw no directions, and the bathroom certainly was not near. She turned to ask a handsome, middle-aged man who was leaning against the hand-railing at the bottom of the step, but stopped herself at the sight of his face. Tears were shimmering down his face silently as he stared at the fog of his breath, hands in his orange coat pockets. 'Probably not a good time,' Ellen thought to herself and she quickly walked away towards another man who too seemed extremely sad and exasperated about something, but Ellen decided it would be ridiculous not to ask a simple question.

"Sir, could you please tell me where the bathroom is?" The man turned to her and scowled deeply at her. Slowly, almost painstakingly, he raised his hand and pointed down the hall.

"Can't miss it," he grunted and not taking another moment, left. Ellen was struck at how rude people were down here, but pushed the thought aside as she ventured down yet another brightly lit corridor. Upon reaching the bathroom entrance, which actually would have been very easy to miss seeing as it sank into wall in an almost perfect blend of tile, Ellen was caught off guard by a throng of people getting off their trains. Like charging bulls, they nearly trampled her as they pushed through and then almost immediately dispersed into various other corridors. Ellen let herself be pushed into the bathroom before shaking the crowd off. She called out her daughter's name, but there was no answer. She checked several stalls frantically, all the while shouting, "Paige!" The shouts were soon drowned out by the roars of the other patrons.

"Shut up!"

"She's obviously not here!"

"I can't deal with all this noise! Someone tell her to be quiet!" Ellen angrily stepped out of the bathroom, disgusted by the din still emanating from inside. She turned to walk back up the corridor she came down, but was met by a wall. She looked around at the other four corridors that diverged from the point where she stood. No of them looked like the one she had already been in. Suddenly, Ellen was overcome by the depression that filled the entire terminal, the fear she could hear in the squeaking of running shoes, and the anger that radiated from each and every other person's face that she could see. And for the first time since she her daughter became lost, Ellen was aware of where she stood.

[EKublai]

The Subway - by Ekublai
Part 2

It was a corner, a corner that may or may not have been there when Ellen went into the bathroom. The fact that it was there now, however, baffled her even less than everything else as she started to walk down one of the corners. Every step she took chilled her bones though there were built-in heaters every fifth step. And as she walked, she passed the defeated faces of the working class. It was the Machine all over again, except here it was worse. People here were mere clones, only differentiated by the colors of their coats. It was barely impossible to separate the young from the old, even the men from the women. Few of them took notice of each other as she passed them, and if they did they scowled because they knew that it was no different than looking in the mirror. No one stood in the corridors, everything was in motion. Nor did anyone speak. They stared at the floor, the lights, the walls to white to remember; it really made no difference what they stared at since everything was bright, spotless, and tiled. It was like trying to stare into the sun until it became a silver disc. The walls, the low ceiling, and the steel bars had created a maze, and the people inside the subway were the lab rats, and the yielding captives in a prison which had boundaries that extended outside the physical walls. And Ellen saw all of this while looking for her daughter, and then was not surprised to come to the end of the corridor to see people panting as though they had just run a marathon. She had to find Paige and go before she became lost with them.

Ellen came to a circular place that had at least six different corridors intersecting, and a staircase from which she could hear the scream of trains stopping. She looked around to try to find someone who would help. Though she knew already what to expect as answers. Behind her were two grumpy-looking men who looked as though they would maim anyone who asked them a question. Ellen turned her head to the left side where the circle became inconsistent and made a small nook. A man there stood leaning against the wall, sobbing into his arm. Knowing that one should never disturb a man in mourning, she looked helplessly towards every other person in the room. However, no person seemed in the condition to help, or even in the condition to go the jobs they were heading for. She nearly started crying herself.

"Looking for something honey?" Ellen looked up and struggled to find the voice that was so weak and distant, yet she knew it was directed at her. Finally, her eyes fell on the wrinkled face of an old woman in the room next to the one she was in, separated by the green steel bars. She pattered over, hopeful that she had finally found someone who could help. The woman was wearing the same purple coat that Ellen had on.

"Yes, please I'm trying to find my daughter."

"Daughter?"

"Yes'm, my little girl," Ellen said frantically.

"There aren't any little girls down here... But I've lost my daughter as well. Can't really remember where she is though. To be honest, I don't quite even remember her name. What's your little girl's name?"

"Paige," Ellen responded, already beginning to turn her back on the woman, "I'm sorry I really have t-''

"Paige, yes that's what my daughter's name is. Maybe we're looking for the same person."

"No, see I'm looking for my little girl," Ellen said in a defeated tone.

"Well, maybe then my name is Ellen," she said. Ellen turned towards her, wide-eyed.

"How did you know my name?" She asked, bewildered.

"I'm only saying it's a possibility. I don't rightly know who I am much anymore, so I see myself as the people that come down here. I'd say that I know where your daughter is since I'm sure if she's still here, someone's looking at her. It's so strange to see a child down here, really catches your attention even when you have other things on your mind. Course, I could only be guessing that's your girl since I can't actually see her. The heaters make it so foggy down here, the walls are so thick, and the bars want to separate us very badly. No, the only thing I'm certain about at this point is that I am you and that you are scared of me. Which I think makes sense don't you?"

Ellen remained silent, unable to make sense of anything the woman had just said, but still could not deny that it had left a prickly feeling on her neck. Wanting very much to get as far away as possible from her as possible, Ellen backed away.

"Well if you see a little girl tell her to go to the operators booth and stay there."

"Who? The little girl? She's one room over from you by the monitors. I do hope everything turns out just fine."

Ellen didn't even ask how the old woman knew, but when she turned and peered through the bars on the other side by the sobbing man, there she was. Paige.

Ellen suddenly didn't feel lost anymore as the other people so obviously did. She had a purpose; she could make things better and start over. It felt as though no time at all had passed once Ellen had placed her hand on Paige's shoulder. Paige's faced lit with excitement at her mother's touch and hugged her like a new Teddy Bear. Ellen let the warmth sink in, but knew it could not last them in this place.

"Come on Paige." The little girl started to walk with Ellen, then stopped and pointed out the man Ellen had saw earlier crying. This time he was on the other side of the bars, and from this point of view it seemed as though he were trying to squeeze into the space between the walls and the steel bars.

"Look mommy, it's that man I asked about where you were."

"Paige, you know you should never talk to strangers."

"It's okay mommy, there were bars, he couldn't get me even if he tried," she said still staring at the man with a frown on her face. "He's lost."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I asked him. He said he was trying to get out of the subway, but he couldn't because he doesn't remember how to get out anymore. He's been coming here for twenty years everyday, and he forgot today. He said he's been forgetting more and more everyday because all he ever looked at were the walls, never the entrance. Then he said only the corners look different because they come and go. What do you think that means?"

Ellen stared hard at her child. Then said slowly,

"I don't think we have to find out. Come on we're going home Paige."

"But what about you job mommy? And school?"

"I think just for today, we should just go home and have some ice cream."

[Jack125]

Story 1 - Soberness, Gross.

Every drunken man has a sober side. So, have you ever wondered what it'd be like to always be drunk?

[Jack125]

Story 2 - Ah Beer, Hilarity Ensues.

Hello, I am Jack Podgorski. Not many of you know me, so allow me a more vivid introduction, it will be brief I promise. I am Jack Podgorski, "The Asshole of Lexington Kentucky". I am 18 years old, and I mean old not young, I hate that shit. I live in Lexington Kentucky, I grew up here. I my not be very old, but I have plenty of awful drunken life merit badges on my scout vest. So allow me to share them with you. Why? I am not sure really, maybe you will learn something from my wrong doings or maybe you will just get a kick. Either way my stories will intrigue all and entertain some. My life will leave the minds of the sober intelligent people of this earth dumbfounded, by my outlandish asshole foolery and complete lack of compassion for the feelings of my friends, family, and really any person who is unfortunate enough to come in contact with the greatness that is Jack Podgorski.

June 1st 2009, ah graduation, we got out of school late this year because of an awful winter storm that hit Kentucky. It is early summer and I am sitting at a friend's house the day after graduation. It is 2:30pm we had been awake for about twenty minutes. Beer and beef jerky in hand we try to sooth our hang overs that we obtained the night before. Roasting in the hot summer sun, Ryan looks over at me. "Bro, I can't believe you fucked Sara last night." I lean back and think. "Ya know you never regret things when you're drunk... I wish I could just always be drunk." "Yea man plus you would never have to deal with these God forsaking hang overs." and Thus begun my nescient quest to achieve chronic drunkenness.

Day one June 2nd 2009, it was a Tuesday.

2:30pm: My quest begins. I start off finishing off our left over beers from the night before. I throw back the remaining 7 beers only sharing one with Ryan.

3:05: I finish the last of my 7 beers. I'm feeling pretty nice but definitely not drunk yet.

3:10: I check Stephens cabinets for some form of liquor, I know his mom keeps it somewhere in the kitchen.

3:12: I find the wine. I start on the first bottle. It taste cheap but I didn't care about the taste.

3:50: I finish the bottle and go straight back to the cabinet, I'm not looking to pace my drinking here. I look back and notice a bottle of the goose. Now I know I'm getting drunk.

4:33: I just but down 12 shots of the goose in record time. At this point I'm drunk and am a little passed belligerence

5:00: Stephen wakes up finally. He comes up stairs and sees the empty bottle of wine and the goose missing plenty of shots. He is pissed but knows there isn't much he can say to me that will make any difference. I mean I am the asshole after all.

5:30: Ryan and Stephen are watching yes man ondemand. I slip into his mom's room. She is single and a total milf. Boobs? 38c's, that's right. I am drunk and a bit horny so I search her dresser. I find her purple dildo but there wasn't much I could do with it. I'm not gay; it's not going in my ass.

5:45: I stumble across her lingerie. It's black and super sexy this will do.

5:50: I poke a hole in her pillow and put the lingerie on the pillow. I grab a picture of her off her night stand and start vigorously fucking the pillow. This may sound embarrassing and it may be for most but I'm planning on being drunk forever so it isn't a big deal.

6:00: I'm about to cum so I pull out of the pillow and jerk off and aim to shoot at the photo in my hand. I have moved off the bed and am now standing facing the door. Let me paint this picture. I'm jerking it violently and just then Ms. Adam, Stephen' mom, walks in the room. I finally burst and well remember those wonderful breasts I was talking about? Even though they are covered by a green t-shirt I splatter them with my baby juice.

6:03: I look at Ms. Adams and smile. I gently spit out "You get that one free" pull up my pants and leave the house. This is a situation that even in a drunken state I would normally be worried but one of the pluses to chronic drunkenness, there are virtually no repercussions for your actions. I wish I could depict Jessica's reaction to me making her my nut rag, but it's all kind of a haze.

7:00: I'm finally home from my long ass walk from Stephens house.

7:10: I take a few more shots of vodka, lie over on my bed, and pass out.

10:00am: It is day two. I don't even want to deal with the bitching and complaining of Stephen so I grab the bottle of goose I took from him the night before and hit up my boy Bobby.

11:00: Bobby arrives at my house to pick me up. By this time I have finished the fifth of goose. We roll the blunt and head to the movies. The Last House on the Left.

11:10: We light up the blunt and bump the new Wayne. Bobby is black.

11:45: We're high and I'm drunk. We buy our tickets and take our seats dead center of the theatre.

12:04: Kelsey and Leslie show up. No big deal, just trying to be fashionably late for a movie.

12:50ish: The rape scene starts.

12:55: It ends. I look over at Kelsey and tell her that it turned me on. She looks appalled.

1:00: I start to rub Kelsey's thigh. She swats my hand and playfully says "quit it."

1:05: I ask for a blow job. She declines saying "we can't do it in front of Bobby and Leslie."

1:06: I stand up and pull Kelsey's hand, she follows. We take our new seats behind Bobby and Leslie.

1:08: the BJ starts.

1:12: Leslie looks back "gross guys"

1:15: I am about to cum again. I know better than busting in Kelsey's mouth so I tap her. Before busting I thought to myself how could I make this situation more entertaining to me and bring all attention to me. So I stand up and let my load drip out onto Leslie's long black hair. Best part is it was a small load and she didn't notice. Kelsey on the other hand is furious.

1:17: I walk out of the movie. Having pick pocketed Bobby earlier I now have the keys to his cady.

1:20: The car engine starts and I head to the 711

1:36: I walk into the 711, thank God for fake IDs. I buy 2 fifths of Travarskis 100 proof vodka.

1:40: I sit in the car and start taking shots.

1:50: I get a call from Stephen asking me if I wanted to party. His mom was out of town and he was throwing down tonight. Nothing big just some close friends and a lot of fine bitches. I'm too drunk to wonder why Stephen would even be talking to me and head over to his house. By this time I am wasted and it was truly not a good idea to be driving.

2:30: I make it to his house alive. I would thank God but I don't think he helped me with that one.

2:40: We are playing call of duty and ping pong. We were going to just chill until about 9 when we expected people to show up.

8:00: Stephen suggests we start playing beer pong to loosen up before people get there.

8:30: we finish our first game. I won and I'm talking mad shit. Stephen says "fine let's raise the stakes. Let's play with vodka in the cups. 2 shots per cup"

8:35: we fill the cups with vodka and start to play.

9:35am: I wake up. I'm hand cuffed to a bed post and I'm naked. I'm not really sure what happened but I feel like things must have gone pretty good. I like the kinky stuff. I notice the raging stench of urine. The pillow my head rests on is yellow. At first it disgusts me but I plan on just getting hammered in a few minutes anyways, so I shrug it off.

9:38: I notice a leg on the floor next to me so I lean over and look. Kyle... the gay kid. I knew now that I didn't want to know what happened the night before.

9:43: I realize that the cuffs that kept me chained to the bed post were in fact plastic. Sadly enough they were still too strong to break.

[Jack125]

10:37: Kyle wakes up. We stare at each other for a few minutes.

10:42: "What the hell happened" I ask. "Well they told me to do it, and you weren't resisting so that's not rape. Plus I only sucked it, that's all I swear" he responded. "Are you fucking kidding me? Yes that's rape you fucking gay faggot" well, in fear of the legal repercussions for his actions Kyle runs bolting out the door.

11:00: I drift off back to sleep.

1:32pm: A woman's voice wakes me up. "You know you being naked in my bedroom is completely inappropriate especially after what happened last time" This sucks, I'm not drunk and now my actions are catching up with me. I take a deep breath and then realize that this is quite an unusual reaction for a mother to find her son's friend naked chained to her bed. So I say "Well if you're worried about right and wrong then I guess our whole relationship is inappropriate. Or at least it will be for the next 45 minutes to an hour." I try not to think about the stupid words that just came out of my mouth and anticipate the worse.

1:35: Jessica leaves the bedroom and walks into her bathroom that is connected. "Can you at least help me out here?"

1:46: Jessica walks out of her bathroom wearing the black lingerie I had previously used to dress up my pocket pussy pillow.

1:50: She jumps on me. We start to fuck.

1:59: It's all over.

2:00: A few minutes after the awkward silence. "I last longer when I'm drunk" "I bet" "plus you're a pro, but if you give me 5 minutes we can go again. I'll last a lot longer this time"

2:06: After smoking a cigarette. "Naw kid I think I'll pass. Your dick's too small anyways." She unlocks my cuffs and tells me she will give me a ride home.

2:43: Jessica drops me off at home. I can't help but wonder wear Stephen was during our sexual encounter.

3:02: I throw away any and all remaining alcohol I have left. I decided chronic drunkenness isn't worth having a gay guy chain you down and sucking your cock.

Allow me to be the first to testify, being drunk is fun, but being sober is definitely needed. A few days pass and I hit up Stephen to chill. I don't mind him too much for what he did. I guess it's just karma. Plus I fucked his mom. After hanging back out with Stephen I learn that he had a camera set up in his mom's room. He was planning on exploiting my homosexual experience with everyone. After seeing that I had gotten his mom in the bed he destroyed the tape. We called a truce and left it at that. This is sadly not the end of my story. If you haven't learned yet, karma always seems to come back and bite me in the ass. I'm going to spare you the vivid details for once and just say curing gonorrhea is not done easily.

[ponyo999]

Story 1- The Boy Who Ate Too Many Skittles
Today, a boy ate too many Skittles. He became a hilarious rainbow!!! Taste this very funny rainbow!! Be the rainbow!!!

[ponyo999]

The Boy Who Ate Too Many Skittles- Part 2
Meanwhile, twenty-five and a half years in the future, a talking Pikachu wanted to save this rainbow boy, whatever he is. So, he set the time machine from July 21st, 2035 to February 28, 2010!!!! He pressed "Transport," and was the only thing that disappeared in a flash. Pika himself, fortunately, had taken 12 seconds to get to the present day. The Pokémon himself said to the rainbow: "I am Pikachu. I traveled 25 and a 1/2 years from the future to make you human again." The boy then said, "Thanks! My name is Pablo, and I was born right here, in Houston, TX, to Argentine parents. And I didn't know you could speak English." Pikachu had to think for 5.5 minutes about this problem that the boy had.
After thinking for so long, Pikachu found a solution to get the boy out of this mess. He tried to sing "La Bumba," from Richie Valens. He sang wonderful the first time, but he failed. He tried the second time, and Pablo was still a rainbow. Finally, Pikachu sang for the third time, and boy was human again. The problem was that his shoes never came bak, even though he wore socks on his feet. And then, Pikachu said, "I'm sorry you lost your shoes. I will find them for you right now." Then, Pikachu asked for the boy's name. He said, "My whole name is Pablo Frank Akira Diego, because my parents are from Argentina, my grandmother is from the United Kingdom, and my grandfather is from Japan." So, Pikachu used his own futuristic item locator.
30 minutes away, an evil, modern-day wizard was going to stop the boy and Pikachu. Will the bad guy get them both and kill them? Or is Pikachu a lot stronger than Sir John Cleese, Jr.? Find out in the final story, The Boy Who Ate Too Many Skittles- Conclusion!! Goodbye for now!!!!! I also added the pic of Jessie and James because they also characters who hate Pikachu on Pokémon!!!!!

[jossospro]

Story One:

He entered the villages without care or concern, and through deceit and lies, left them burning and without any money.

[jossospro]

Story Two: Part One

Lanterman and the River

The fair Queen of the little village of Lanterman walked down the river to chase her young son, John, who didn't know how to swim. The river continuously ran down, licking the sides and rushing down, surrounded by thick, green grass that was littered with flowers and butterflies. The cloudless sky was a loving dome of bright blue, and the bright sun, made the river sparkle.
The queen came down the big, green hillside, walking quickly through the grass whilst holding up her white-dimmed dress. The ankle-high blades of grass brushed against her smooth legs as she strode forward.
On the other side of the river, a man who was not too used to seeing much colour emerged from the shade of the woods. He followed the cobbled pathway down the slope to the bridge where a small boy was crouching and poking something with a stick. The man stopped at first, taking a look around. He looked around slowly to take in the bring green scene with a lively blue river rushing across. On the other side of the river he saw a woman walking down the hill, and on top he saw a thin row of trees that fore grounded more blue sky and a mountain in the distance.
He had not seen such colour for many years, and had forgotten how bright green could look. He walked down the bridge. He looked out of place in the calm, warm world he now entered. His clothes were dull and tattered. He carried a lot of gear. His waist was fat with big brown bags that bounced as he walked, little grey sacks that jingled as they swung, and he wore a large backpack that rested on more luggage that was tied around his backside. On top of all this, he was pulling a large cart big enough for four people to sit in. The old wooden cart held a pile of stuff that was covered in a thing yellow sheet. The man's face was that of a survivor that had experienced much loss. The look of wisdom and trauma looked out of place on such a young face. A scar was present on his left cheek, and it could be seen it was sawn together. A similar cut was present that went down from the side of his crusty lower lip halfway down his chin. He had well toned muscles, biceps that pushed out his tight sleeves, and pecks and abs that almost looked like he was wearing a suit of armor under his tattered black tunic.
He got to the bridge and started to walk across. The woman in the dimmed white dress yelled "John! Get away from the water." The ran from the man, looking back at him several times before holding his mother's hand and walking back up the hill.
Lanterman was a small self-providing village. The houses and the few shops that were there, run by the locals were made of wood and sticks. A few of the buildings were built with bricks, namely the large building that house the king, queen, and their family.
The queen was in the kitchen of the dim home. The windows let in streams of light more so than they lit the place up. From the front entrance there was a large main room that had a table in the centre on an old rug, with candles on top. Carefully Stirring a boiling pot of soup, the housewife queen hear Darin Come in. Darin, the second oldest son of seventeen years old walked in with something shiny in his hand. That he held up close to his face. He sat down at the head of the table as he inspected the little thing he had. The curious queen took off her apron and exited the kitchen, entering the large main room. She lent over Darin's shoulder to see what it was.
In his hands, Darin had a shining golden watch.
"Darin," started his mother in awe. "How did you get this?"
Darin looked up, at her and smiled. "A merchant in the village sold it to me. He says that this very rare watch brings the wearer good luck in his or her life."
The queen frowned. "How much did you pay for this?"
"Thirty feoh." said Darin.
The queen was silent for a moment, then snatched away the watch. "My goodness, Darin," she said, annoyed. "I can't believe you would do something so stupid."
"Please, mother, I don't spend much that often, and I really wanted this." Darin pleaded.
"Show me who you bought this from."

The man was parked at a large gap between an unstable house made of sticks and a small shop made of wood. He stood by his cart and piles of bags and sacks, showing two interested men, a young lady, and a small boy. He was talking to them, making a little silver bottle the centre of entertainment. The queen walked up to him and held up the watch to his face.
"I would like my money back for this please." She ordered.
The pale man smiled slyly, with one arm rested on the pile on his cart, and the other holding the small silver pot by his side. "I'm sorry. I'm not interested in buying your little gold thing here."
"My son bought this from you for thirty feoh, and I want a refund."
The man looked at her impatiently. He then held up the pot again with both hands and started talking to the other customers. "So the prince and his princess started seeing the old man again, since his last inve-"
The queen, now angry, decided to head back, leaving the suckers to listen to the foreigner's story and waste their precious money on his junk from half the world away.

Later that evening, the queen gave the watch to the older son, Lucas, who was stronger and taller than Darin. She then asked him to confront the stranger and get the refund back. At supper, Darin sulked and didn't eat. John was outside tossing a crappy old ball to another little boy and they talked about something while they did so.

"He's gone, mother." Lucas placed the watch on the table, in front of where his mother sat, and as Darin walked out of his room, his eyes shot open widely, in joy to see the watch again. He took the golden watch and his mother gave up trying to refund it.

There was a village further North-East by the river, like Lanterman. The buildings here were mostly made of wood, and although fewer in number, were bigger. The king and queen and their family of this village lived in a larger brick home on a hill that overlooked the river and green slopes beyond the thin line of trees on the hilltop.
"The weight is that of a feather, and it's so little, is makes no noise when you strike." The dark man was now in this village under the purple sky in a dark shade of night. A strong beefy man rubbed his chin as he inspected the knife handled by the dark man.
After making an exchange, the dark man stopped the strong man. "Tell me good sir, why are there two small villages, and not one prosperous village?"
"The story has been told a thousand times. Five summers ago, the river ran thin, and Lanterman stole all of the water and we were left with nothing. We asked them for water, but they left us with the tiny supply we had. We confronted them one day, and people almost got hurt. Relations have never been the same."
Something sparked in the dark man's eye. An opportunity he had been longing for on his lonely journey to this place that he didn't even know existed prior.

The dark man visited the two towns often in the next few weeks, no longer selling his small knives, stolen treasures and useless pots. No one knew where he went at night.
He started to see more of Darin. Darin always wore his golden watch with pride. The story the dark man told Darin about him had him completely obsessed with it.
"So tell me where you're from." Darin inquired onebright day when The dark man wasn't talking to anyone else. "And your name if it's ok."
The dark man, leaning on his cart with his arms folded, looked at Darin's familiar face suspiciously, amazed that they were talking about something else other than his wares. He then relaxed. "I am Neido from Greece. My father was a man who helped design some of the most wondrous things that boosted our nation in the Iron Age. I take up some of that knowledge, and have a deep understanding of mechanics as well."

[jossospro]

Story Two: Part Two

Lanterman and the River

"Here we don't have many useful things like they do in town." Darin was almost honoured and a little shy talking to Neido. "I don't go into town, I'm not allowed, but Lucas has told me all about it. Here we have to go to the river and carry our water over here. We also have to carry our own wood, but over there they have horses, wells, and all kinds of things we're not lucky enough to have. Um, this is a bit irrelevant, but how'd you get those scars?"
"I was in the army for eight years." Neido hesitated for a moment. "I'm twenty-eight now, just so you know-"
"I'm seventeen... just so you know." Darin said
"So you've said. Anyway. One day, in a town, like the one your brother visits, another soldier, who looked about forty, and me, I was twenty-five, we were inside a little kitchen building. It must have been the lords kitchen. Fifty armed men were being slaughtered by eighty elite warriors, who were our enemies, and all we had was those weak fifty between that army and us. Well I thought I was going to die right then and there. I was so scared, it was just red and smoke outside. Suddenly, he got us both busy. He ordered me to get jelly, water, some empty cans and ice. He stuffed the smaller cans with jelly and water. He also made something using cow crap, oil, wrapped it in a tonne of paper, making about twelve bombs. Well we invented these horrible stinky bombs, and massacred over forty of the eighty enemies, blowing up a few structures as well. We snuck around, planting these things in buildings the enemies were hiding in, blowing up many soldiers. Well in this chaos we were confronted by an enemy. Me and my new friend managed to kill him, but it left me scarred. We were lucky, since these warriors were very skilled."
Darin smiled. That story, which he wasn't sure he believed, made his day.

Neido was no longer selling the towns his crap, but was now selling his more complex weapons. The first week he had sold nineteen proper army swords than he had salvaged off nineteen dead men, killed by his hand. The second week, he sold fourteen very sturdy and expensive bows. As he drained the small towns for all their worth, people began enquiring how the other town had such weaponry and why.
Neido sat with the king of Lanterman at his table for dinner, with his wife and three boys. The king we a big beefy fellow with a bushy beard and big arms.
The family and the trusted Neido munched on pork legs, vegetables and potatoes.
Neido sat on the King's right side, next to Darin.
After Neido had enough, he was convinced that the family had eaten enough to hear what he had to say.
"My king, it's time, I think, for me to tell you the whole truth. The village to the north did not buy my weapons, they made me give them over forcefully."
The king was shocked. "Are you sure? That's rather out of the ordinary, even for some as violent as them."
Neido looked upset. "I've been trying to regain my fortunes by selling my precious collections to Lanterman, but I fear I have ruined this village, not only by taking all of your money, but by supplying some of my most deadliest weaponry to the Northern village."
The king now looked concerned, and looked into space thoughtfully. "Why on god's green earth would they need weapons..."
"My king, being so well fed, and cleaned up, thanks to your hospitality, I would be unrecognisable." Neido wiped his mouth with a napkin and placed it down by his plate. "As you know, I served in the army for many years, and this mission would be nothing short of an honour for me. I will go, as a traveller, into enemy territory and find out what they are planning. Meanwhile, I am more than willing to share some of my more advanced weapons with you."
The king, to Neido's disappointment, rejected his offer. "I don't think, we need more weapons. I think, we need to come to a peaceful solution before we do something we may regret." The king looked Neido in the eye with complete trust and admiration. "If this quest will honour you, then I would be more honoured if you investigated. If there's anything you need..."
Neido smiled gratefully. "My king, you have been to kind. This is the least I could do to repay you. A torch so I may be on my way this night is all I can ask for right now."
Darin spoke up. "Why don't you stay here? There's an empty shack nearby you can sleep in. It's very comfortable."
The mother nodded in agreement.
Neido laughed insistently as he stood up. "Please, you are too kind. I enjoy the freedom of the night air under the warm blanket of trees. With a full belly, a fire by my side, and my great long pipe, I enjoy being at my encampment in the woods."
And with that Neido was off into the night. He smoked his long pipe he had stole from a Chinese warlord one and a half years ago, after slaying him and his men. His cart was not just full of axes and crossbows and other weapons, but thirty kilograms of Opium that he had smoked every night since he had obtained it. He would smoke by the fire in the forest, until he was off in another world, however tonight was different.
Tonight he had someone to meet from the other town.
She wrapped her slender arms around his shoulders, smiling warmly in the room lit only by the candle on the bedside. "Rahim, I hope tonight will work for you this time." Neido had his arms around Eliza's waist. They kissed gently, but Neido couldn't do it. Something was missing. He had the princess of this little village in his arms and he could not go through with it. Something inside him pushed him away. Was it guilt that he was deceiving her? Was it the fact he had not actually had a woman willingly have intercourse before in his life. So many things bounced all over in his mind. The warm touch of her had his heart at ease, but even as they stood naked before each other in the silent night, he couldn't get going.
"Not many men usually have your problem. Am I the ugliest girl you've ever had?"
Neido looked into her eyes, and at her perfectly beautiful face. Something disturbed him about her innocent soul. "I don't understand it. Something is missing, I can feel it in my gut. Something just doesn't seem right."
"My mother and father would approve, if that's what's bothering you. They trust you so much, especially since you look after us so well, and since you keep an eye on that southern village for us. We have nothing but complete faith in you Rahim."
Neido smiled. "I like you a lot, more than any other girl ever. I just need time to think."
Neido smoked himself to sleep that night in his little encampment.

In the morning he awoke to two mean faces, and two nasty swords pointed at his face.
Neido, startled, rushed back on all fours crawling backwards before hitting his head on a tree.
One of the men laughed, and looked around at the cart and piles of goods. "Well isn't this a site, hey Brian?"
"I wonder what kind of treasures he has here under all this junk, Jordan." said the other.
Neido's beating heart slowed down to an easy pace, and he felt something in his heart he hadn't had in many months. He smiled at the two men, and it made them feel uneasy.

[jossospro]

Story Two: Part Three

White Faced Liar

The next few days proved impossible, as neither king would declare war on the other village, no matter how much Neido tried. He had almost lost all hope, until he had one more idea.
"Darin, do you want to go for a walk in the woods? Maybe we can hunt something." Neido insisted in front of the family that morning.
Darin's face lit up. "Oh mother! Can I please? Neido is a very good man! He won't let me get hurt!"
The Queen eyed him suspiciously. Only the eldest son was allowed out into the woods. "I'm Sorry dear, but only Lucas may go out. Lucas would you please go with Neido, and bring back some dinner?" Lucas frowned at first, having to spend time alone with Neido, but then he sighed, and figured it was time to have a talk with him.

Deep in the woods, Neido competed to be in front, both knowing which way to go. They ducked under branches and hopped over sticks. They had bows slung on their backs. Lucas had a rare bow bought from Neido, and Neido had his favourite crossbow on his back, that had a heavy metal cylinder in it, full of iron bolts. Finally they stopped under the shade of high, bushy branches, and Lucas had something to say. "Ok Neido, I've been keeping an eye on you for a long time."
Neido didn't like Lucas at all. Even though Neido was seven years wiser than him, Lucas despised Neido without a legit reason for it, and it made Neido feel uneasy. The silent walk was unpleasant as well, and now the awkwardness of it all was being cut by an outburst of honesty.
"I want to tell you what I think about you." Started Lucas, keeping his stern eyes locked on Neido's. "I think you're a white-faced liar. I think you enjoy ripping us off, and I think you enjoy Inflating the mere conflict Lanterman has with the northern village."
Neido was sort of taken back, straining hard to hold back a smile. He pretended to wipe his hand over his mouth in thought, but Lucas saw the cheeky smile admitting the lies. Giving up the mask of it all, Neido just smiled proudly. "I wouldn't do anything like that. I have only ever been a loyal ally of Lanterman, to your family, and to your safety."
Lucas's forhead tensed as his eyes were full of hot white anger. "You're a liar, a deceiver and I want you to get out!" he yelled. "The tension has escalated so much since you arrived. We were so peaceful before you came along, and nothing good will come of you staying longer!" He then took the bow off his back, and the knife in his scabbard, and threw them on the ground between them. "Take your stolen weapons and get out of here! I don't want to see your face again!"
Neido looked down and shook his head. He crossed his arms, as he were some kind of honourable figure. "I'm not going anywhere, oh angry Lucas. I think your imagination has got the better of you."
Lucas opened his mouth to speak, then a thought crossed his mind. His powerfully hateful eyes relaxed in thought. "Fine. I didn't think I'd have to do this, but you have left me with no other option."
"What are you doing?" asked Neido worriedly.
"The only way to beat a deceiver, is to be a deceiver." and with that, Lucas's own fist slammed his eye into a fat purple globe sitting in his head. He laughed, picked up the knife on the ground, and started making little cuts on the top of his arms. He then punched his own jaw. He then laughed a little, but then stopped as he saw Neido smiling, letting him go at it. He then became angry again. "What's so funny? Don't you understand?"
"Oh I understand." Neido said confidentally. "I completely understand Lucas. When you get back and show your wounds, I'll be in big trouble won't I?" Neido then threw his head back laughed excessively loud, and heartedly. His laugh went on and on, his chest heaved out with the strength and terror of it.
Lucas breathed heavily, not sure what to make of Neido's confidence. Suddenly Neido's head came back down, and Lucas looked into cruel menacing eyes, and his heartbeat doubled, his chest tightened, and he felt sick in his stomach. Neido, still laughing with all his heart, grabbed the heavy crossbow from his back, attached it around his arm, clicked the trigger with his thumb and Lucas toppled to the ground as his shin exploded into a gust of blood and bone chunks. His screams of terror and agony were no match for the terrible laugh of Neido, that echoed into the valley distantly.
He then stopped laughing, but kept up the audible racket with his yelling. "Dance for me or I'll shoot your head!" He aimed the crossbow at the mass of thick locked of hair that was the top of Lucas's head. Lucus looked up, revealing a wet face of pain, loss and disbelief. His eyes were dry from the tears he was pumping out.
"Get up and dance!" Neido screamed, then laughed more. Suddenly thoughts of Eliza's naked beautiful body came to mind. If she was there he could make love to her right then and there, in the presence of the dying Lucas. He loud voice-hurting cries sent warm fuzzy feelings through Neido's body, and he felt something coming he had not felt since he was in the battlefield. The feeling was overcoming him. He dropped the crossbow and grabbed his knife. He then kneeled by the powerless Lucas, and stuck the knife in his waist, just below the ribs where there was no resistance apart from the muscle he had there.
Neido's head started to feel dizzy. This feeling was more than what the Opium gave him. Seeing the blood drool out of where the knife entered Lucas's body. Seeing him arch back and reveal his stomach, make Neido laugh and scream in extacy horror. Neido then drove then brought the knife to the side, and slit open Lucas's stomach. It was kind of harder than a soft belly. It was like chiselling through weak wood, but Neido had the strength to make the cut one line. He then continued to stab the stomach over and over, then his legs, throught and finally he jabbed the knife deep into Lucus's skull. Neido then fell onto his back away from the body, with blood all over his hands and tunic, screaming out in pleasure and a wave of extacy made him unable to resist the orgasm he was having.

[jossospro]

Story Two: Part Four

White Faced Liar

In the dim, small room, Neido looked down solemnly. Darin was kneeling by the coffin, his face covered in tears, and the King face was rubbed by his arm every two seconds to keep his beard dry. Their whimpers and shaking was nothing new to Neido. He had seen it all before, but something in his heart stayed him from feeling good about this. It was the king. Something about the king made him feel worse than he ever had before.
He put his arm on the king's shoulder. "I am sorry, my King."
In a quivering voice, the king commanded "Get your hand off me."
Neido did as he said, and stood by as the two mourned. There was nothing he could say. He didn't want to say anything either, nor dance on the tomb or kill the rest of the family. "He was a good man. I am honoured to have known him."
"He shouldn't have died. It's not right." The king said.
"They've gone too far." Neido confirmed.
The king looked up at Neido, eyes squinted against tears. "Whe..." he sniffed and wiped his cheeks with his big hands. He looked up into Neido's eyes. Something about the king's eyes set Neido's heart off like a charging horse. "Did you do it?"
Neido's heart sank into the pits of hell and he felt himself weigh down. "I did not. I never-"
"Neido you don't understand." The king wiped his nose. "No one, between Lanterman and the other village, no one has ever killed before."
Neido suddenly was lost for words. He hadn't taken this into account.
"That's why they hired two brigands to do it. So they can be completely innocent." Neido said, with icy fingers and a shaky spine. Control yourself Necrandu, this is not the time to feel uneasy, he thought to himself. You have to be able to lie, as if your words were the truth.
"Neido, look me in the eye, and tell me. Did you kill my son?" the tears started again as he finished this sentence but he kept his aged stern eyes locked on Neido.
Neido was breathing heavily now. His hands were shaky, and he was restless, but he tried to stay still. He opened his mouth to respond, but it wasn't until a moment later he could actually talk. "No I did not."
His voice quivered when he said "not". He looked away and gulped in fear. He slowly looked back into the king's eyes. The king, mistrustful, looked back down, closed his eyes and then rested his head against the stone coffin of his fallen son.
Neido was glad that the moment was over, but confused over his lack of control. He then looked up and his chest tightened as he glared into the staring eyes of Lucas over the tomb. Darin had his brother's face, and now shared the same expression Lucas did before his leg was blasted into oblivion.

"Lanterman!" The king stood on a crate before everyone in the town. "For those wanting to go, and avenge my fallen son, our beloved Lucas Airfos, offer yourselves now, get armed, and everyone else, help us build this boat!"
Lanterman had twenty-four warriors that volunteered, including Darin, and the King. They had the nineteen swords Neido had sold them, and an array of axes, knives and bows. Neido, who stood by the king's side, placed out the great big map that was the plans for the ship that would be big enough to carry the men, but small enough to travel fast and fit in the river. Darin and other men travelled into town to buy the needed rope, nails, rails and tools with all the money they had left.
From the northern town. The king assigned Hunter Garieat, their most fierce man to strategise, and they too built a similar boat face south of the river. Neido offered them more. Neido said he was spying on Lanterman, and said that if they attached barrels to the sides of the river, their ship would not fit. Although barrels were a strange tool to use to cut up a ship, they had long abandoned any idea to question Neido's genius.
With all the money Neido had gotten from selling his stolen crap, as well as money he had simply stolen, he bought tonnes of gas, and one tonne of gunpowder, and in his encampment, had ten huge pots, big enough to cook four children each, half full of boiling oil and Styrofoam, mixing together to form a thick white liquid. The forest stunk, and the wildlife, and even curious adventurers, ran away from the stink. The only way Neido could stand it, was by smoking lots and lots of Opium, and lying low on the ground. With the gunpoweder he filled all of the ten pots to three quarters full. He then put in two hundred nails in each pot, and mixed it all together.
Neido did all this while the two towns built the ships and the ballista's attached to them.

"Rahim, you say tonight's the night but this doesn't feel right." Eliza sat on the blanket under the cool air of night. Neido lay by her resting his head on one arm and stroking her naked leg with his finger. They were on the slope between the small forest that separated the two villages and her village. Lanterman's ship was sailing North with the river flow to their advantage.
"It's a sure victory for our people, Eliza." Neido said warmingly. "And I think this moment, the moment I save your people, is what gave me the feel I'm worthy of your love."
Eliza smiled at Neido, and started kissing him. For the first time, Neido could do it. Neido could make love to her. They were just enjoying the feeling, both hidden in the shade of darkness. Neido held on for a long time, and Eliza tried harder.
Suddenly Eliza turned around, and saw that the two ships were coming into contact. Men on both ships were screaming at each other. They were almost a minute apart. "I should be down there, for my family." Eliza said.
Neido kissed her neck. "No, Eliza. You should be here with me. This is the night. Wait a second." Neido reached for the side, something clicked, and then he had a lit match in his hand.
Eliza was confused. "What's that for?" she asked.
Neido placed the flaming match in the grass, then sparks emerged, hissing as they flew everywhere, startling Eliza. Neido smiled. Still in each other's arms, they both stared at the sizzling spark travelling rapidly through the grass. Eliza looked, wonderingly. Suddenly, the spark split into ten sparks, and then travelled downward towards the ten barrels hooked to the side of the river where the two ships would meet. Eliza's eyes opened wide in horror. She looked at Neido's cheeky face, which was proud with a smile of accomplishment.
"They're bombs?" she asked horrified.
The two ships met, and fired the ballista's at each other, and threw knives, and shot arrows. Was anyone hurt? It didn't matter compared to what was about to happen.
Eliza started to get up, but Neido grabbed her tightly and forced her back down. "Not tonight my love. Tonight I have what was missing all along."
"Let me go!" Eliza yelled, kicking and struggling.
Neido forced her on her back, and l kissed her as she pulled her lips away. "I have what we were missing - fireworks!" there was a screaming boom that made Aliza's screams invisible. Neido laughed loudly, with all his heart. The night air echo'd his laugh through the rapid burning hums of flame that devoured a mill, a nearby house and family, and forty of the towns strongest men in their pathetic little ships. The roar of flames were in a setting mix with Neido's laughter and screams of extacy. The flames licked the sky and rose high and they started to devour the northern town. Villagers ran for their lives as their homes glowed red and smoke smothered the lands. The darkness where Eliza and Neido were first making love was now day lit. Eliza cried and screamed, and Neido forcefully had her where he wanted her, and he could feel the sentation of it all rushing through his body.

[jossospro]

Story 2: Part 5

The End

A week later, only Lanterman town was remaining, with the survivors of the northern town with them. They had no one to hunt for them, they had no strong men to build houses, and they were completely broke.

Months passed, and eventually, half of the Lanterman residents went to live and work in town, the other half didn't survive the poverty.

Six months after leaving the river and the villages, Neido was killed by a war criminal on the run called Heger the Huskarl. Heger stole Neido's opium, sat in a cave and died in a week, smoking himself to death.

The Empire later identified Neido's corpse. He was Necrandu Servulcs, war criminal from Greece, died twenty-nine years of age.