Contest [Issue 36] Continue the Story... Returns! [Chapter 3]

Remaine · June 15, 2015

Welcome to the third edition of continue the story! If you have not heard about this contest before, you can find all the previous chapters of the first edition in the newspaper archive. The final product is here:

http://en.tankiforum...howtopic=236842

The idea is for you, the readers, to write the entire story. Each issue will ask for a new chapter to be written, as a continuation to the winning chapter form the previous issue. The second chapter is written by @Raredust.

Chapter 1 by @TriNitroToIuene:

INNER TRUTHS

PART ONE - AMNESIAC

I wake up in a desolate room with an intense feeling of drowsiness; not knowing where I am or how I got here.

As I open my eyes, a smell reminiscent of putrid socks greets my nostrils..... they don't like it. Fingers over my nose, I glance around the place where I am accommodated. Yellow, peeling wallpaper, the walls reduced to plaster and cement, and the ceiling is in the danger of collapsing any moment. I observe that the door is solid steel, and the doorway is stained with what looks suspiciously like blood.

I shake the fatigue out of my eyes and quickly check my body for signs of damage. Nothing..... nothing except a long, winding, snake-like scar running along the length of my right arm. And, judging my the stinging feeling on my arm and the blistering red hue of the wound, it's still fresh.

How did I get it? I wonder what had attacked me so badly that I ended up here with a filthy big cut and the feeling that I have been drugged.

Come to think of it, how did I get here? I rack my brains, hoping for a suitable reply from the depths of my cerebrum. But, to no avail. I delve into the nooks of my mind, fervently hoping for a memory, anything that could give me a clue of how I could escape from this room, and most importantly, who put me in this.... prison?

Suddenly, a splitting migraine invades my head. I let out a groan of pain and collapse on the cot, overcome with a medley of visions, some so clear I could swear my eyes were deceiving me, and some so blurred I think it's happening underwater.

I can see a small boy...... gamboling towards me with his hands open; I can see this crystal clear. I can hear myself laughing, but it is all but an echo, For the laugh sounds hollow even from my perspective. I can hear a distant slam.... maybe the door opening? I am getting up and answering it, and talking to a visitor in a low tone, one which I can't make out. My vision blurs........... I can hear the boy laughing, but I turn away and pick up a long, grey, angular object and point it at the boy. He stops laughing abruptly and launches himself at me. Something scratches my arm, and I can see a deep cut. I see my finger move, a bang ensues out of the silence, my world becomes red, and the boy goes limp......

I wake up from my reverie, my head still throbbing. I clutch my head with my fingers. Who was that boy? Who was the person I talked to? What had I picked up? What was the bang!? But I have a sinister feeling that it was something to do with the scar on my arm and the blood on the doorway.

I get up with effort. I was going to set things right. I needed to ask some questions. I went to the door, surprisingly, only to find that it was not locked. I clicked it open, and stepped out into blinding sunshine, determined to know about my past.

Chapter 2 by @Raredust:

Inner Truths

Part 2 - Recollections

Nobody... As the light from the scorching sun shines upon my body, I see what lies before me. It is all but an abandoned mass of land, with decaying structures. Disappointment swells inside my heart, but something else inside me is relieved. Perhaps this is because I don't want to needlessly waste my life because of innocent questions, when I may not be an innocent person.

Questions... Too many questions to which I have no answers. Perhaps I have some sort of severe concussion? I open the steel door and walk back inside. I settle on the edge of the cot, and all is silent but the apparent screams of my body. I think and reason, proposing foolish conclusions that make no sense. I sigh, and allow myself to fall backward on the cot. I stare at the unappealing ceiling. Suddenly, I feel something as my hand moves over my pant leg. Once more, I brush my hand against my leg for the sake of reassurance. Something is in my pocket. Paper? A note?! I'm immediately filled with utter aspiration; I don't really know why. I sit up as my hand swiftly slips into my pocket. I twiddle my fingers, and slowly pull my hand out. Money. A lot of money.

I inaudibly lecture myself. Of course! How could I be so blind? That boy gave me money for something. But what? I trust that I wouldn't sell drugs, and even more so that I wouldn't go to the extent of betrayal. But then, a man came to the door who looked somewhat similar to the boy. Perhaps his father? An uncle? But the real question is, why was I so upset? Why was the boy laughing at me? They must've tricked me. Wait... Am I even making sense right now? Ah!

The gears of my brain continue to vigorously grind. One second, my past seems to be right in front of my face, and another second it seems to be miles away. The inconsistency of my brain throws mixed emotions at me. I just want answers. That's all.

I catch a glimpse of something in the corner of the room; It's my gun. Without even moving, I recall the second part of my vision. Again, my brain goes to work.

The boy lunged at me with a knife; my arm is the evidence. Then I tried to shoot him. But... did I fail? Why don't I remember hitting him? Why did the gunshot sound faint? The gun wasn't the biggest threat. There was something bigger. Yes...the grenade. That man launched a grenade.

I try to resolve additional events, but am interrupted by...metal?

"Ah, so you've finally awakened." A voice declares devilishly.

My head darts toward the steel door to see the man with a knife. For some reason, I manage to partially excuse him, and realize a boy peering through the door. This boy looks slightly different than the other one. A third part to this conundrum?Though permeated with confusion, I try not to make my observation noticeable.

The man continues while shutting the door, "Please, remain seated. I still need more information from you... Let us talk, shall we?"

The winner will receive a 50,000 crystal reward, and the recognition of their extract being featured in the next issue.

Your entry will be judged on the following, in order of importance:

It must be your own work, completely original.
Content - it must be interesting, and something that has potential to continue on to be a great story.
Quality of writing.

Furthermore, to emphasise quality over quantity, there is an informal word limit of 500 words. Slightly over is acceptable, but not too long please! Make every word count!

Deadline is 20th July! Late entries may not be considered!

Other notable entries will receive a 10,000 consolation prize.

Good luck!

Edited January 7, 2018 by Hexed

opidude · June 27, 2015

Congratz to the winners!! :D

TriNitroToIuene · June 27, 2015

INNER TRUTHS

PART 3 : DELUDED

I rise from the cot, my hand instinctively reaching towards my pocket for the revolver, before realizing I don't have one.

"Who are you?" I manage to ask the stranger, forcing the words from my lips.

The man just leers at me. "That is a word which is not suitable for your ears." I raise my eyebrows. First sign of hostility - unwillingness to exchange names, I think.

"Why? I demand answers! You can't just leave me like this!"

"You thought I would leave you?" asked the man, stepping ahead where his features were thrown into relief by the light.

I recoil backwards in horror. He is the man in my vision. I raise my hand to point it into his face, but it convulses horribly.

"Recognized me?" said the man coldly.

"I-I-I" is all I can manage.

My brain goes into thinking cap mode. I had spoken to this man. That was one of the few things I could remember. Obviously, he must be someone known to me, but then why is he being so hostile?

A chilling thought crosses me. What if I hadn't spoken to him at all?

My mind works out a new theory, with me giving accompaniment in the form of a prayer, a prayer hoping that the pieces in the puzzle will finally fall together once this is over -

What if the boy was on the run from this man? What if I killed an innocent person? What if his uncle is the bad guy?The shame began welling up inside me.

Wait. I'm starting to imagine vendettas.

The man comes forward. "Now, tell me what you have done to my Pietro?"

"Was he a little boy?" I ask, hoping to get a negatori as the reply.

"There are a lot of little boys," he said.

"But, was he a little boy?"

"Yes."

"Then I probably have killed him," I mumble, horrified.

The man stepped forward and smacked me fully on the face. Hard.

Stars pop up in front of my face, as I reel backwards, dazed.

"You fool!" the man roars. "Pietro was the go-between, and you killed him!"

I reel backwards, dazed. So I am part of a racket, and there is a go-between involved.

No legit organization that I can think of, even in my amnesiac state, includes go-betweens.

Am I the good guy or the bad guy?

Edited June 29, 2015 by TriNitroToIuene

Flexoo · June 27, 2015

Inner truths

Part 3 Disclosure

He did not slit my throat. I am still more valuable alive. He will be demanding answers. But my mind is gloomy chamber locked by darkness.

He leant against the wall with thin lips clinching the cigarette. Boy handed me wine-bottle timidly.

„ Drink up. Yes the whole lot.... Go on, maybe it will loosen your tongue“

Can I say No to an armed man?

For God´s sake. It might actually be one of the vilest wines I ever tasted. It´s gone bad, smells like a damp basement, musty, with a hint of a raisin. This I would not serve to my worst enemy.

„So my friend, how does it taste? Sweet like a Port wine? Though I think red wine should not taste like Port. ..... But lets get back to the point. What an ingenious idea bobbed up in your head to keep both – contraband and money. You naively thought your five finger discount can be brushed under. But you did not reckon with this in your plan. Come to think of it, your son must be disappointed.“

Demons working for this beast disguised as human trying to fool me. It can not be. What kind of father endangers his own blood – a rotten bootlegger like me. Blurred pictures of the boy haunted me. They were last silent cries of my subconscious. Beset by unawareness. I am lead to him all this time.

Cold blade snatches me from guilt feelings. Razor edge peregrinates accros my cheek with blood leaking out from shallow wound. Those eyes mirror a pathological lack of emotions.

„Spit it up! Where you hid my money and contraband.“

Tossed memories compile into mozaic. I chiselled money out of him. I am DEAD man! He will kill me without hesitation if he will not get what he wants.

But...

Wait! T-That gun. Is he not aware of her presence. It might be a ticket from this situation.

I spurn the guy towards the wall and desperatly try to reach it. I grab it from dusty floor, but he remaines rather calm . The boy steps back observing the course of events with morbid curiosity of child.

"This will not solve your problems."

I aim on his shoulder. Could easily redrill his head with bullet, but my only intention is to stop him. As he advances towards me, I press on the trigger.

Click... click ..click. No load.

He leers at me maliciously. Pedro! Bring the boy!!!

Edited July 19, 2015 by Flexoo

Daniel898 · June 27, 2015

Inner Truths

Part Three: Miracle

He wore an unfamiliar system of clothing, a tattered Guernsey shirt, and a gritty causal denim. It looked as if he laundered his attire in an unhygienic mud puddle. The man had no shoes on. He pushed the boy gently out of the room and outside the door.

“I think I know you.” Was supposed to be the deliberate words, but it came out as “Who are you?” I was quite assured that I had met him before.

“Who I am is none of your concern, though I am staggered by your fascination…” He replies sternly.

“What do you want from me?”

“That is also none of your concern.”

What? Why does he want to talk, if he refuses to talk? Seems like one of those unworkable riddles.

The man studies my face. “Is something wrong?”

“I have no conception on why I’m even here, you have a knife and could potentially terminate me at any given moment, and I’m living in guilt at the moment. Sure, nothing is wrong.” I rolled my eyes and felt the temptation to cry, freedom so close, yet so far.

“Sad, yes, though not my problem.” The man phrased.

This man was chipping away at my limit of anger. My clenched my fingers so vigorously that blood seemed to trickle out slowly. I wanted to grab my gun and shoot him. It was extremely disappointing that my gun was across the room. I know I will be slaughtered if I attempted to retrieve my gun.

“I have came for my son, do you have any idea where he is?” The man spoke again.

I know I killed him, I know I do. I look at my feet.

“Do you know where he is?” He spoke more heavily this time.

“I do.”

“Well then? Tell me!”

“He’s in a better place.” I stared down at my feet, my eyes welled up.

The man gasped, as if putting the puzzle pieces together, knowing that I killed his son.

“You evil…” He yelled in rage and threw his knife, piercing the air as it swooshed toward me with blinding speed. I dodge it, merely, as I feel it slice through my rough hair. It smashes into the wall behind me. The man rushes to the other side of the room.

My gun.

He picked it up, smiling devilishly once again, preparing to shoot.

Suddenly, I had a moment of desperation, the money in my pocket. Could it save me? No time to find out. I threw it in the air, just as the bullet from the gun impacted it.

Everything seemed to go slow motion after that, I saw the one-hundred dollar bills blast a part to countless pieces of confetti, influencing the bullet, causing it to tilt to the left of me. Thanks founding father Benjamin Franklin*, you saved me.

The man holding my gun was stunned. He pulled the trigger again.

No bullet came out this time, no ammo.

I pulled the knife out of the wall behind me, as I advanced on the man, closing in on the kill, in my favor.

-

*Benjamin Franklin is on the 100th dollar bill, so this man is thanking Benjamin Franklin because he threw the one-hundred dollar bills, saving his life.

Edited July 19, 2015 by Daniel898

Zenyth · June 28, 2015

PART 3: THE DAWN OF REALITY

I followed what the man said, seating myself on the cot as he sat down facing a touch towards me. The boy, whose enigmatic similarity with the one who had given me the cut stood beside the man, looking around as if he was new to this place. The man, after anticipating an initiation by me, started talking.

"How much had he given you?" he asked me. I was perplexed. "Am I suffering from amnesia? That grenade explosion must have done something to my head...", I said to myself. Seeing the bewildered look in my face, the man started explaining, somewhat making my confusion recede.

"I think you have lost your memory. Don't you remember anything? Franco had told us to send these boys but they turned out to be treacherous; they were planning to sell us out to the council. It's a good thing I came on time and finished them off.", he said.

The unwound strings of my past were slowly winding up. I asked the man more questions.

"So, why did that boy give me money? Why was he laughing?" I questioned. The man instantly retorted,"They had stashed the crates somewhere in town. They were here to hand you back the money we offered them. They thought they'd be very clever if they revealed our contraband and be good kids so that the council will uphold them."

More questions and answers ensued; I seemed to like him and our conversation was gradually unveiling the mysteries of that incident, those horrific moments.

I asked him,"Is this boy one of those wannabe whistle-blowers?". The man nodded saying,"Yes, he is the brother of the dead one. Anyway, Franco told us to go to Manfred's place to discuss about finding those hidden crates. Report there tomorrow. We must resolve this predicament. Those crates in the hands of the council would be the last thing we could have. It'd be the final breath for us all if it would happen. Also, my name is Bosco in case you forgot."

Suddenly, I heard footsteps rushing towards us. In a second's time, a boy with shabby hair, dressed in mud-stained denim appeared at the steel door. Panting, he said,"THEY'RE HERE...IT'S A-A RAID!"

Bosco went solemn. His eyes were wide open, and his face looked a bit panic-stricken. He grabbed the boy beside by the hand, and shouted,"WE MUST RUN...IT'S THE COPS...WE'RE BEING AMBUSHED." I took my gun in a fraction of a second, and we bolted through the steel door, Bosco leading the way. Outside, we turned around an alley, trying to run only in cover; as we heard shouts of the cops and loud screeches of alert bells and gunfire.

We ran harder, but the cops seemed to get closer every moment. We could have easily beat the trail with a bike, but the abandoned locality added to our troubles. Around a corner, Bosco turned his head back to see if I was keeping up, and as he turned his head back, a cruising bullet penetrated the lateral side of his head. He fell to his knees, as if his energy had been drained on the spur of the moment. He was dead. My mind went for a swing, I could not understand what to do. With my head down with amnesia, a marooned feeling in my heart and a delinquent past, a boy and a gun the only things left with me, I was totally vexed. I looked up at the sky, looking for solutions..

-------------------------------------

Word Count: 590 words.

Tell me if it is too long. I think 90 words above limit is okay. :)

Edited June 28, 2015 by Zenyth

Zenyth · June 28, 2015

Do you mean the deadline is 20th July? It's written 20th June which is already gone.

By the way, is 590 words okay? :lol:

ariking777 · June 29, 2015

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

I rise from the cot, my hand instinctively reaching towards my pocket for the rifle, before realizing I don't have one.

"Who are you?" I manage to ask the stranger, forcing the words from my lips.

The man just leers at me. "That is a word which is not suitable for your ears." I raise my eyebrows. First sign of hostility - unwillingness to exchange names, I think.

"Why? I demand answers! You can't just leave me like this!"

"You thought I would leave you?" asked the man, stepping ahead where his features were thrown into relief by the light.

I recoil backwards in horror. He is the man in my vision. I raise my hand to point it into his face, but it convulses horribly.

"Recognized me?" said the man coldly.

"I-I-I" is all I can manage.

My brain goes into thinking cap mode. I had spoken to this man. That was one of the few things I could remember. Obviously, he must be someone known to me, but then why is he being so hostile?

A chilling thought crosses me. What if I hadn't spoken to him at all?

My mind works out a new theory, with me giving accompaniment in the form of a prayer, a prayer hoping that the pieces in the puzzle will finally fall together once this is over -

What if the boy was on the run from this man? What if I killed an innocent person? What if his uncle is the bad guy?The shame began welling up inside me.

Wait. I'm starting to imagine vendettas.

The man comes forward. "Now, tell me what you have done to my Pietro?"

"Was he a little boy?" I ask, hoping to get a negatori as the reply.

"There are a lot of little boys," he said.

"But, was he a little boy?"

"Yes."

"Then I probably have killed him," I mumble, horrified.

The man stepped forward and smacked me fully on the face. Hard.

Stars pop up in front of my face, as I reel backwards, dazed.

"You fool!" the man roars. "Pietro was the go-between, and you killed him!"

I reel backwards, dazed. So I am part of a racket, and there is a go-between involved.

A great continuation :D Just one thing to make it slightly more logical - you wrote, "my hand instinctively reaching towards my pocket for the rifle". Rifles don't fit to pockets. Here's a rifle for example:

(Heckler & Koch MR556A1)

That would fit a pocket, would it? :P

It would sound better if you changed it to "Pistol" or "Handgun" :D

TriNitroToIuene · June 29, 2015

A great continuation :D Just one thing to make it slightly more logical - you wrote, "my hand instinctively reaching towards my pocket for the rifle". Rifles don't fit to pockets. Here's a rifle for example:

(Heckler & Koch MR556A1)

That would fit a pocket, would it? :P

It would sound better if you changed it to "Pistol" or "Handgun" :D

:P My bad, I wrote a typo by mistake....

Anyway, thanks! I changed it, and also edited the ending slightly!

ariking777 · June 29, 2015

:P My bad, I wrote a typo by mistake....

Anyway, thanks! I changed it, and also edited the ending slightly!

Great :D To my taste, Revolvers are quite annoying handguns, but it's a matter of an opinion :) A Glock would be better from my point of view :P

TriNitroToIuene · June 29, 2015

:P Me non-violent. Me not know names of thing that go bang bang XD

1stsuperwhitedragon · June 29, 2015

Inner Truths

Part 3: Reviewing the past

"Please, remain seated. I still need more information from you... Let us talk, shall we?"

I looked around the room, losing hope, if that's how I can describe it. The boy was looking at me with a mean face; he seemed familiar somehow How am I going to get my gun back if I have to remain seated? Who is this boy who seemed familiar?, I thought. He went to the corner where my gun was and he took it, he went back and pointed my gun at me. Great, now what?

"Who are you and where am I." I asked, forcing my thought out. At first he didn't answer. Maybe telling his name isn't his favorite thing to do...then he finally said,"Was that more of a question or a statement?"

"More of a statement."

"Just as I thought..."

"Demands an answer!"

He looked at me strangely and said,"Well, that's isn't your business to know, first of all and second, you're here in my place."

Just as I thought, it isn't. "Remember, it's a statement that demands an answer."

"So what?! Who are you?"

"I can't tell mine since you won't tell me your name."

"Answer this question then," he said. Fine, what would he question be? "What did you do to my Puerto?"

I looked at him with confusion. To his what??? I wondered. I asked him the question. "I'll tell you that after. Now what have you done to him?"

"Was he a little boy?"

"No. A man."

A man? I thought. Then I realized what he meant. I might have shot that guy dead when I missed the boy... but I can't remember fully if I did or not. Ooh, I can't remember almost anything! "Then I have probably shot him dead." I finally answered, shocked.

He went up to me, pointed with the gun near my cheek and triggered the gun. Its bullet made a scratch on my cheek. After, he hit my nose so hard with the gun in his hand; he stepped back. My face was pale and bleeding (especially my nose, it was bleeding like crazy); I had more anger than fear but when he came closer I had more fear than anger. "How dare you!" he screamed. "He was one of my men, a courier, and you murdered him!"

Did I really touch him or not? To solve this or not to solve this, that is the question. I was trying to get my memory back but it wasn't easy. "Who was that boy who gave me the money and why did he give it to me?" I asked him after 15 minutes of silence.

"What?!" he replied angrily.

"The boy who-"

"Oh him." he said, calming down,"he is my agent; he gave it to you because he thought he would trust you with it. In fact he robbed it from a bank and he is wanted but nobody knows what he looks like and they know it's not you."

Strange,I thought to myself, very strange... The more questions I asked, the more answers I received. But one question remained but what was it? Hmm... ah I remember.

"Who was that boy who cut me with a knife?" I asked.

He hesitated at the question then suddenly he turned pale; I wondered what was wrong. What's going on? Why is he turning pale?

"Who was he who cut me with his knife?" I repeated.

No answer. I asked him the third time, yelling at the top of my lungs because I got frustrated of him not answering. Then he turned around angrily and said,"If you ask me this question again, I'll kill you."

I was very puzzled. Why would he do that? I need him to answer this question! I think I know how. I asked,"Why wouldn't you answer my question? Is he a betrayer?"

He turned quickly and looked at me horrified. "How did you know that!?"

I didn't know that, I guessed it, but I prefer shutting up about that. "If you don't tell me, I'll give you a headshot."

"I really don't know. What happened about him?"

"I didn't fully see what happen. I saw the boy who gave the money to you, he is here with me. Then Robert, that boy you asked about, tried to kill him. When you were defending him, he cut your arm with poison so you can drop dead but you didn't, it strangely didn't affect you. You took your gun and tried to shoot him, but you missed him and it killed Puerto, one of my men. But now, he seeks revenge to kill the both of us because you have the money and he hates me & he thought you work for me."

I couldn't believe it, that's why he was after me now. But then I heard voices behind the door. Who was it? "They're in here! Break down the door!"

I realized who it was. "He's here to betray us! Let's get out of here!"

We ran out of the room to the middle of the building and it looked like a puzzle. "Yes, it's like the Lost Temple except I've made a few changes."

I could tell. Then he entered the code (it was a color code; it was yellow, yellow, blue, red, green, blue) and we escaped the building but we were surrounded by policemen outside. "Now what??" I whispered.

"I don't know."

"Put your hands behind your head and stay where you are." they said.

We saw Robert smiling.

"You'll never get away with this!"

"I already have, Julian!!!" he said, laughing.

We're trapped, but how can we escape this mess? We need solutions but what? We didn't had the slightest clue. Me, the boy and Julian put our hands behind our heads.

"Now put your hands behind your back!"

We did then they handcuffed us and put us in the police car then they were taking us to jail. Now, how can we stop this madness?

Edited July 12, 2015 by 1stsuperwhitedragon

tankkipankki · June 29, 2015

Inner truths

Part 3 disclosure

When man sat down i wanted to ask him questions to get to know who i am and why i am here with you.

"Who are you ?" wondered me the most in my head.

The man suddenly begun to laugh and after that he starts staring at me for a while and then he ask me

"You don't recognize me ? and then he said look at our hairs and eyes and face, don't you see anything similarity?

Then i realize that we do look a bit similar to each other, but who is he?? is he my big brother or father ? i don't know my head hurts again that i can't remember. Then the man show a old picture and ask me

"Do you remember me now? "in the picture there is three person standing on a big familiar-looking building and then the man say.

"We used to hang out together all three of us, but one day you were gone and then me and our little brother began to look for you.

Then i ask myself "did he just say me and our little brother " i remember the boy who laughed at the door and gave money to me and he looks a bit like the boy in the picture Then suddenly I remembered all memory of how I got the scar on my hand and the man who had the table opposite and how I lost my memory then i shout for joy to the man.

I remember now! I got my memory back! You are my big brother and that's our little brother Eric and the three of us were adopted when we lost our mother and father in a flight accident then my big brother say happily

I am glad you got your memory back little brother, but do you remember now how you got that scarf on you hand? "I said

Yes i do, when you and Eric went to shopping with our adoptive parents someone broke into our home and stole our money and valuables when I tried to prevent him from escaping, he took out a knife and slashed my hand and I remember that on top of the knife was a white powder, it was perhaps the drug, after which I became unconscious due, and when I woke up I was in a strange place and lost unconscious and then i saw gun and i though it was mine but that's impossible after i went outside before that Eric came and found me and started to laugh at the door and gave the money i don't remember correctly was it Eric or somebody else. My big brother said

"It wasn't Eric because i told him to call me when he finds you and luckily i found you I'll call him and tell him that I found you, and then we'll go home and we'll make police report of this and we'll go to the hospital examinations your big scar."then i said.

Okay big brother let's go to our sweet home...

WORD COUNT: 502

Edited June 29, 2015 by tankkipankki

khaenn35 · June 30, 2015

He seemed to be in his thirties, maybe even twenties, with sleek, black hair, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. Most notably, his eyes were glassy, like that of a drug addict, or one who was at the verge of crying. He handled the knife with elegance, doing various tricks, designed to intimidate and scare.

I keep my cool, working my brain overtime to find more answers-There, I see him in a vision. He is at a door, holding a carrier bag, knife on the belt. I see the boy in the earlier vision, behind him, shivering. This vision does not move- it’s only a picture. Who is this guy? Who is that boy? Why are they here?

Suddenly, I feel the cool blade of the knife on the side of my throat, chilling me to the spine, as I jerk to the side in shock. The man repositions his knife, giving me enough comfort to talk properly but not enough to help me escape. Not that I wanted to: I still needed answers. “Enough waiting. Let me start: who are you?”

Who am I? Good question. Who am I? Might as well be honest to the man.

“I don’t know, actually.”

The knife blade moves, and now I feel the skin of the man’s arm on where the knife blade was-and the blade was now at my windpipe. His skin is rough, calloused.

"I shall ask you one more time-WHO ARE YOU?"

"I..." Another vision floats into my mind. A card, shape of a heart, which I hold in my hand as I prepare for something-What that something was, I do not know. I focus my eyes on the card’s words. ‘Happy Birthday, Dad! Love, from Hymn, Charlene and Mummy.’

I see myself hold the card to my heart, before pushing it into my shirt pocket.

“Are you ready, Rapheal?”

I hear a voice, but I cannot place the voice to a face-before I can see him, the vision vanishes, leaving only the surroundings of the room I was in.

“I am serious-I cannot remember anything of any significance to you. If I did, I would have told you. I can only remember my name for now-Rapheal.”

The knife-man seems to understand my plight, and lets me go, pushing me towards what seems to be a bedroom. Before I can say anything, he tosses a little carrier bag to me, before stepping out of the room, locking the door behind him with a click. I peer into the bag, and see two slices of bread with a can of meat.

As I turn around and grab the bag, I feel something in my shirt pocket. I pull it out, and to my pleasant surprise, I see the same card. As I felt the smooth surface of the card, another vision beckoned to me…

475 words: continue the rest!

Penguin40 · June 30, 2015

Chapter 3: Revelation

"Who are you?" I ask, suspiciously, only to get a sinister laugh. "You will die before you know THAT." A laugh followed the words spoken. Anger took over me as I, without realizing what I am doing, attack the man. "Calm down! We need to talk!" I stop dead, as memories now take over me. Why does that voice seem so familiar?

"I would like to ask, who are you?" the man spoke. I remain silent, not willing to reveal my name. I decide to attack. I reach for a hidden gun nearby without the man realising, but I stop. No. What am I doing? I can't kill anybody! "Why should I tell you my name?" I say. "Because I need information about my son." Wait. His son? I am too shocked to say anything. And then, I remember. I recognize the man in front. My first memory is somehow attached to him. Why? My brain has only one answer.

I am his son.

No. I attempt to defy my brain's decision of believing the man is my father, only to fail. I can't evade truth. I can't change the reality. Hesitantly, I speak, "Am I your son?" Silence takes over the room. And then a gunshot breaks the silence. But it's not a gunshot. It's war. War. I am in war. I was born in war. "Yes," the man said, in a soft voice. I ask, "Why did you abandon me here?" "You were not abandoned, you were kidnapped." "By who?" I ask. "Your brother."

My brother? But WHY?

I am overcome by memories, and fail to notice my brother standing nearby. Yes... he did kidnap me. I look at my brother, and a shock is what I get.

I have indeed been kidnapped.

The kidnapper was the boy I encountered.

The boy was my brother.

I and my father look at my brother, and I fail to resist my anger. I attack him, but sense danger. War. We are in war. I attempt to escape with my father, leaving my brother stranded inside....

Edited July 2, 2015 by Penguin40

TriNitroToIuene · June 30, 2015

Inner Truths

Part 3: Reviewing the past

It's kinda plagiarized from my entry.

1stsuperwhitedragon · June 30, 2015

It's kinda plagiarized from my entry.

it's hard to do synonyms; don't worry I will change it

and I didn't read your story. where is it?

TriNitroToIuene · June 30, 2015

Maybe name exchange isn't his favorite thing to do...then he "That's isn't your business to know,

I demand answers for my questions!"

Now what have you done to him?"

"Was he a little boy?"

"Yes."

He went up to me and smacked me with my gun. Fast and Hard

Those parts. Indirectly copied, anyone can see that

1stsuperwhitedragon · June 30, 2015

Those parts. Indirectly copied, anyone can see that

ok I'll delete that

1stsuperwhitedragon · June 30, 2015

Those parts. Indirectly copied, anyone can see that

changed

TriNitroToIuene · June 30, 2015

^You changed the gun thing, but the name exchange still remains.

PS - I'm appreciating this :) There ain't much people who'll actually take the pain to rectify something they may have actually copied...

1stsuperwhitedragon · June 30, 2015

^You changed the gun thing, but the name exchange still remains.

PS - I'm appreciating this :) There ain't much people who'll actually take the pain to rectify something they may have actually copied...

I will also change that but not now because I'm checking at the forum games

DuoGT · June 30, 2015

Inner Truths

CHAPTER 3: Revelations

"Hey... hey snap out of it" The strange man looked at me if I were some sort of insect.

I couldn't take my gaze away from the door which was left ajar. That boy was definitely someone from my past, but who... with that a chilled gust of wind shut the door completely and I was left there in some sort of loop while memories came flooding back to me slowly, and painfully.

Blurred images of what seemed to be my life, from when I was normal, from when I hadn't been ridden with this horrible condition. At this point I noticed the man's features, he was quite pale, wore a black suit and tie, the gel in is hair gave it a nice shine and he had a pair of eyes that looked trustworthy, he dressed like a professional, but what was his profession? This was my concern.

"That boy at the door was you."

What did he just say... that boy was me? Unable to conjure words I could sense what he said was true.

"God dammit, Richard the condition is getting worse isn't it? You've been having these memories coming back to you but you just haven't noticed it have you?"

What is he telling me, why is he telling me this? My life hasn't been that special in the past couple of years. I have had little to no contact with anyone from the outside world, I live in a remote place and only go into town for supplies that I need, some toothpaste and food is usually all I get.

The memories came back like a flash flood. These memories that I didn't know I had were there. What is going on, what is happening to me? All I have are questions that this man probably has the answer to. He is another person from my past, a past that I can vaguely remember, one that I maybe do not want to remember, or one that my condition is stopping me from remembering...

"Theo, that is your name, Theo," this is all that I could muster up at this point while shaking violently.

"Heh, so you do remember me, you should be glad that you're still in a state that can be used, get up Richard"

Used. I was going to be used for what? I didn't care much, I felt like my life was over.

"Pick up the gun, Richard pick up the gun," Theo repeated.

I slowly crept over to where the gun laid morbidly. I stood by it for a few seconds then I quickly picked it up and had another painful episode of remembering, revelations.

"The boy you shot, and killed was your nephew." Theo said sharply. I remembered vividly, he was giving me money to try and help but I shot him in cold blood, why did I do this? A sharp pain took over and I was on the floor screaming, I was in agony.

"What the hell is happening? Tell me now what in the actual hell is going on, what is happening to me?!" I was shouting at the top of my voice while Theo was trying to calm me down.

"The reason you killed him is because you sensed he had killed your wife, you didn't know this happened yet you felt it. That is your power. And I can tell you this is true, we cross-referenced everything, secretly of course and now we know that he did in fact kill your wife."

We? What the hell. My power? All of these thoughts were buzzing around my brain and it was extremely painful.

"Your brain cancer is different to normal types of tumours. Yours will kill you in approximately 5 years, but it has also given you the special ability to sense evil and what crimes people have committed that you come into contact with. Richard for the next 5 years you will work for us as a 'superhero' of sorts, and in exchange we will bury your wife for you. And at the end of the 5 years we will bury you too."

Bury my wife... At that moment the only thing I could remember was the warmth of my sweet wife and her beautiful and tender smile, one that comforted me even though I couldn't remember it for all of this time.

"How do I start Theo?" I asked without hesitation.

"Well Richard, lets take a step outside." Theo had a child like smile, like the ones on children that read their first comic book. I guess my superhero status fit in well.

We exited the room and all was revealed.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Notes from writer: Well this was fun to write! I think it puts a slight twist in the story. Leaves an open ending which I'm interested to see what it develops to if this is picked. Good luck fellow writers!

Edit notes: Chapter cleaned up a bit and done a small grammar sweep. (Probably a couple more mistakes but if you could point them out or give suggestions please pm me)

It may be editted:-

- to shorten word length (cut down on some parts)

- slightly to make it more interesting (WiP)

Edited July 3, 2015 by DuoGT

FaaiqBilal1 · July 2, 2015

Part 3: Questions, more questions.

I stared at his face, trying to recall whether or not I know him. Having no recollection of previous encounters, I deduced that we had not met each other before, but I was still not entirely convinced. He pulled a chair from outside the room and sat on it in front of me.

'Who are you?', I demanded.

'You'll find out', he replied without making eye contact. I felt as if the question had made him nervous. 'My turn, do you know who this is?', he continued with a picture of a small boy in his hand. A chill went down my spine, I recognized him, he was the boy from my memory. I nodded in answer to his question.

'Who was he?', I asked in a low voice, unaware of whether I killed him or not.

'Who was he? Who was he?! You don't even know who he was? You killed him! You are his murderer! His blood is on your hands, he was my son!' he yelled at me, now with tears flowing down his face. For a moment he looked helpless, perhaps he even gained my pity, and the next moment, his face defined anger. He wanted vengeance, for that I was sure; but to how far he would go to gain it? That was a new question in my collection of questions which immediately required to be answered for the sake of my life.

He pulled me up from my collar and dragged me across the room. I tried to resist, but that was of little to no avail. He was clearly much, much stronger than I was. From the room, he dragged me outside and took me to a small building not so far away. While he was dragging me, I looked around to gain any idea of where I was, apparently, we were a bit far off from civilization, so I buried any hopes of rescue.

'My turn', the man said in a heavy, dark voice as he produced a hammer from a nearby box and raised my hand against a sink. The room reeked of sewage and was lined by algae and tar from all sides. He brought the hammer down with great velocity and force, and just when I thought this was the end of my right hand, he missed it, and repeatedly hammered the whole sink until it was left in pieces. Powerlessly, he dropped the hammer. His eyes were full of tears, again, but this time he didn't look angry, but rather weak and helpless. He couldn't gather the strength to harm me, and neither did he know what to do.

'Please get me back my son', he said while crying.

DuoGT · July 2, 2015

Part 3: Questions, more questions.

I stared at his face, trying to recall whether or not I know him. Having no recollection of previous encounters, I deduced that we had not met each other before, but I was still not entirely convinced. He pulled a chair from outside the room and sat on it in front of me.

'Who are you?', I demanded.

'You'll find out', he replied without making eye contact. I felt as if the question had made him nervous. 'My turn, do you know who this is?', he continued with a picture of a small boy in his hand. A chill went down my spine, I recognized him, he was the boy from my memory. I nodded in answer to his question.

'Who was he?', I asked in a low voice, unaware of whether I killed him or not.

'Who was he? Who was he?! You don't even know who he was? You killed him! You are his murderer! His blood is on your hands, he was my son!' he yelled at me, now with tears flowing down his face. For a moment he looked helpless, perhaps he even gained my pity, and the next moment, his face defined anger. He wanted vengeance, for that I was sure; but to how far he would go to gain it? That was a new question in my collection of questions which immediately required to be answered for the sake of my life.

He pulled me up from my collar and dragged me across the room. I tried to resist, but that was of little to no avail. He was clearly much, much stronger than I was. From the room, he dragged me outside and took me to a small building not so far away. While he was dragging me, I looked around to gain any idea of where I was, apparently, we were a bit far off from civilization, so I buried any hopes of rescue.

'My turn', the man said in a heavy, dark voice as he produced a hammer from a nearby box and raised my hand against a sink. The room reeked of sewage and was lined by algae and tar from all sides. He brought the hammer down with great velocity and force, and just when I thought this was the end of my right hand, he missed it, and repeatedly hammered the whole sink until it was left in pieces. Powerlessly, he dropped the hammer. His eyes were full of tears, again, but this time he didn't look angry, but rather weak and helpless. He couldn't gather the strength to harm me, and neither did he know what to do.

'Please get me back my son', he said while crying.

Sounds like a movie.

Challenge	Start Date	End Date
1	15.08	29.08
2	29.08	05.09
3	05.09	12.09
4	12.09	19.09
5	19.09	26.09
6	26.09	3.10
7	3.10	10.10
8	10.10	17.10

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