Contest [Issue 52] Continue the Story 3

fahad_the_GREAT · April 11, 2016

Continued the last chapter, the inner truths.

Previous parts:

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

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?"

Chapter 3 by FaaiqBilal1

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.

Chapter 4 by BoldTanki

Obviously this man was a psycho, thinking that he could bring back his dead son. I started slowly backing away, looking for a way to escape.

The man slowly looked at me with his bloodshot eyes, "What are you doing? Why are you backing up?"

"Sir, you need to understand that your son is dead." I replied.

"NO! HE'S STILL ALIVE AND YOU ARE GOING TO FIND HIM!" He shouted with intense anger and rage.

My hands were clammy and shaking. What should I do? If I help this guy find his dead son it's going to be a waste of time, and I might get killed. But at the same time, I might die. Damn it.

"Okay, let's go find your son." I said, standing my ground at the huge man that towered above me.

"Good. And I'll bring this just in case." He replied. And, he went to get his hammer.

Good. This was my chance to run.

I quickly ran into the door, attempting to break it open. I tried two times, before the rusty old hinges gave out and broke off. I heard the man stomping after me. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!?" I squinted out in the broad daylight and looked out, the wasteland covered in a sunny and bright filter. I looked around and saw a small camp in the distance.

I started running after it, but after a few seconds I realized that I had not eaten for two full days, and now it was finally taking its toll on me. I could feel my heart thumping against my chest.

Badump. Badump.

At this point, I was solely relying on adrenaline to carry me across. But it wasn't enough. Sure enough, I could hear the man steadily coming closer.

I'm almost there, just a few more seconds...

My vision started to get blurry and blurrier as I continued my trek along the barren wasteland. The man was only a mere few feet away. "COME BACK HERE!" He shouted. I could see soon that there was trench over the camp, it was about 10 feet wide 10 feet deep.

I have to make it.

I felt a sudden pain in my left shoulder and knew that for sure that the man had thrown his hammer at me, but still I gathered all the strength I had and launched myself over the trench, and hit the gritty dirt with a thud. I could hear that man cursing, as he did not have the abilty to make the jump. I get up, only to collapse again. Through my last seconds of consciousness, I hear shouting and yelling, as the gate to the camp opened and a lone woman looked at me from above. Fading through consciousness and unconsciousness, I look at her and say the only words that I could manage from my bleeding mouth,

Help.

My continuation:

Soon the woman has brought a village doctor and i was conscious again, I looked up at the faces of the woman and the doctor and thanked them, when I had drank the water and was well again, maybe after a day or two, thanking them again, i went on my way, i didnt know where were I going, i didnt know my destiny, all i could know is i was going in a barren wasteland to nowhere, i was about to give up, and collapse again when i saw a figure, "probably a mirage",I thought, but it was real, the figure of a boy, the boy had dark skin and black hair, and he was not alone. Soon there were many more figures beside him, and one of them raised a gun and said with a smile, "looky who we have here, George."

George,the leader bandit, laughed and said, "You there! Hand us all your valuables or we will slice you into pieces and feed you to our dogs." I could recognize by his bloody sword that he had no mercy, so I decided to run away again. I stood up(i was sitting) and came one step closer to the bandit, he smiled and lowered his gun. Then i dashed from that place, the sound of bullets behind me, i ran for my life.

There was another village at a distance.

I can make it, just some more speed, i quickly noticed a mansion, it seemed like no one had ever entered it in centuries, well, i was going to, i quickly hid in the backside of the gate. I could hear the footsteps of angry bandits' heavy shoes, I stood firmly, hidden well. When they had finally left, cursing. I was touched on my shoulder with a cold,bare hand, and i heard a cold, cruel voice, "Welcome to the bandits' hideout..."

~fahad_the_GREAT.

317 Words.

Sorry for the low quality of the story, i am not reporter stuff actually but I worked too hard for this story, pleeeeease give me even the smallest reward for my work.

Thanks.

manish17 · April 11, 2016

Hidden Sorrows
PART 1: Possibilities!

Lies, whenever told and for whatsoever reason may it be told, always hits one back in the form of pain, hatred and sadness. It was a pleasant autumn evening. I was waiting on Woodfort Crescent for my friend Steve whom I soon spotted in the middle of the road waving his hand. Suddenly, a car coming with great agility hit him and he became unconscious. I was shocked, and found difficult to decide what to do. Panic-stricken, I shouted for help and soon he was taken to the City Hospital.

I prayed for him and after a few hours of wait, she called me in her office room. She said, "I am Mrs. Reah - a surgeon and physician. Well, tell me your name and relation with the patient first!"
"My name is Jeniffer Jones." I said. "Steve is my friend and I've been knowing him for four years."
"Well, I must say it clearly. Steve, as you named him, is suffering from memory loss. He seems to have had an accident a long time back an now he is brought back to that time, I mean to the past. "
"Then how can we help it? I mean, what can we do to make him absolutely fine? " I asked quite hurriedly.
"That's almost impediment! Since you are his friend, can you tell me who is James? He says that James' life is in danger and he wants to save him..." She said.
"James is his brother! But, he's no more. He has been so since eight years. " I said sadly.

Then the doctor informed me that if Steve doesn't meet James or if he is told the truth directly that James is dead, there is a threat to his life. Her words had made me stunned, I was absolutely shocked at that. I wanted to meet him immediately.

Mrs. Reah took me to a dark room which soon lit up when she switched on the rights. I feared for that instant - it was for a reason indeed! When I cast back to some events from my past- let's say when I went with Steve to my friend's birthday party, I remember Steve showing some signs of photophobia. My suspicion was confirmed when I met him a few more times. But now, when the room got lit up, I saw he was quite normal. He seemed quite different from what he used to be. I couldn't make up the reason for it.

"Who's this girl? " he asked with an irritation in his face.
"She's just a friend of your brother!" Mrs Reah said.
"Well then where is my brother? Is he fine? Please tell me! " he asked.

I was confused. I could not decide what to utter and I couldn't just risk my friend's life!

468 words including chapter name and part name.

pieface101 · April 11, 2016

are we allowed to submit multiple times if we don't like our first submission?

pieface101 · April 11, 2016

Okay, so um... Yah I couldn't come up with a good title. 717 words, including date and time in bold. DISCLAIMER: The Delta Force is a real US Special Ops team, along with the Navy Seals and the Green Berets. They are mainly used to rescue hostages and as counterterrorism, so the mission mentioned below is realistic. The SCSS is made up, although such technologies do exist. All characters are fake and so is the plot, and so any resemblance to an existing text is entirely coincidental. No offense to anyone was intended during the authoring of this text. Link to actual info about the Delta Force is https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Delta_Force.

Delta 7

Chapter 1: Missing Comrade

9:30 PM, Sunday, March 29

James pulled his night vision goggles over his face. A chilly wind blew through the reeds, stinging his face. He fumbled around his belt for his walkie talkie. His gloves closed on something hard. Unclipping it, he held it to his mouth.

“This is Delta 4, closing in on target. Do you copy?” 2 years in the Delta Force and these raids never get old. Every movement James made was built up from years of training into instincts. He focused his goggles through the marsh.

“Roger that Delta 4. This is Delta 3, communications systems are go. Do you copy?”

James peered through the marshes into the barren wasteland beyond. In the distance, specks dotted the horizon. He focused his goggles on the terrorist campsite. As the specks grew, he saw a lone guard leaning against one of the tents. “Yes i copy. Delta 1, do you have a view of the target?”

“Roger that.”

“Copy. Delta 2, is the SCSS up?” The Supersonic Communications Strafing System would allow them to knock out any terrorist communications that might otherwise make them end up with military support.

“Roger.”

“Delta 5, are you go?”

“Roger.”

James raised his Colt M4 to shoulder height.

“Delta 6, are you go?”

“Roger.”

“Delta 7, are you go?”

There was no response. James waited. The only sounds were the crickets and the wind through the reeds. He waited a little more, but still no sound.

“Delta 7, do you copy?”

James waited. He repeated it again, although not lacking a note of panic in his voice.

“Delta 7, are you out? Do you need support?” Again James waited. There was total silence.

*******

2 days earlier

James crawled out of his tent. The midday sun beat down on him like a batter does a baseball... well not really. The ground was hot enough to fry an egg, although he did not bring any eggs for this mission.

There was a tense mood in the air, dilated by the onset of a storm. Although they had done several missions together before, the team knew that any mission could be their last. Each was as equally fatal as the previous. Just weeks before they had seen a comrade blown to bits by a mortar shell. And a few days before that another comrade, Weitzman, was stabbed to death by a kamikaze attacker. James had watched the knife go through his body multiple times before he shot the attacker in the head. He had had to endure watching Weitzman fall screaming to his death.

James slowly dragged himself to the dining pavilion. By the time he dragged himself into the welcoming shade, his face was brick red and he was soaking in sweat. He picked himself up and dropped into a chair near the end of the table.

“Heat wave’s coming over 120 degrees, eh captain?” A cheery voice to his left spoke up.

“Delta 7! How many times do I have to tell you to call me either ‘Delta 4’ or by my last name ‘Valguard’?” James roared.

“Sorry, captain. I’ll remember it in the future, captain.”

James could not suppress a smile. Although he was annoying at times, and although he was the least experienced on the team, Jeff Lionel gave the team an enormous confidence boost with his silly antics and jokes. Possibly even more than me James surmised.

“So what’s the status today?” James inquired.

“Big storm coming in. We may have to abort mission.” A young fellow named Johnson replied, looking up from his bacon.

“Martinez and Lionel, prepare for abort procedure.”

“Roger that.” They replied, although Jeff added a “captain”. James rolled his eyes.

“Care for some bacon?” Jeff persisted, holding out a platter to James.

*******

9:32 PM, Sunday, March 29

There was an eerie chorus of crickets accompanied by the wind, but there was no other sound. It took a moment for the truth to sink in. James buried his face in his hands.

“Delta 4, are you okay? Do you copy?”

James let his sobs fill in for the absence of his comrade. Although members of the Delta Force were not supposed to let their emotions get in the way of their mission, James could not stop his goggles from fogging up.

Edited April 19, 2016 by pieface101

greyat · April 12, 2016

1. Yes, 99-page submissions are perfectly valid.

2. Yeah, it would be advised to create a title. Else, if you win, yours truly will determine the title.

3. Delete your first entry before resubmitting, please. There's this little 'hide' button that you can use.

Edited April 12, 2016 by Thekillerpenguin
gammer radiation

Daniel898 · April 14, 2016

Bloodshed

Chapter One: Dubiety

“I swear I didn’t do it!”

I suspect that he isn’t telling the truth, and neither do my fellow officers.

Maximus selected his pen on the table beside him, and eyed the notepad carefully. “Stefan, you claim that Juniper did not access the office.” He pauses abruptly and commences to speak again. “But later, you declared that she waved at you upon leaving the office. I’m uncertain how this is possible. As you can see, this situation is unattainable. Someone cannot wave to you if they never arrived at a visual position to do so.”

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t kill anyone, and I-”. Stefan roars across the table like a hungry lion, only to be hindered by the stale, calm voice of my colleague.

“As recommended by our lie detector, you haven’t been telling the truth. You slaughtered your co-worker Juniper. You have been charged of second degree murder and you will serve 10 years of-.”

Stefan screams in outrage, and lunges his body across the table. He begins to suffocate Maximus with his handcuffs. With Maximus’s neck hooked onto links of the handcuffs, Stefan swings him across the chamber, his head slamming onto the impenetrable stone wall and his body dwindling to the ground. He’s unconscious.

I explore my pocket and feel for my gun. Crap. I thought. I left it with Randy outside. I speculate hastily and screech at my other colleague Liam. “Shoot him!”

Stefan has obtained the key to his handcuffs from inside Maximus’s pockets and opens the lock with the key with his teeth. Liam commences to draw his gun. Stefan surges toward his legs and Liam capsizes. I observe in panic as his gun descends to the floor. Stefan clutches the gun and shoots Liam. I scream.

I lift a chair and catapult it at him, knocking him over. He targets me with his gun as I flip the table over to sustain the charge. I gasp at the puncture holes inside the table. I launch another chair, and another. I pick up the last one and Stefan looks down. I gaze. He starts to chuckle, louder, until he shrieks at full volume.

I drop my chair in fear. “W-wha-.” I begin.

“I was there.” Stefan murmurs. His body shudders, I take a step back.

I’m befuddled. He was there? “What do you mean, you were there?”

He continues to grin. “Oh? You don’t remember. So you don’t know that your memory was-.”

“It was what?” I demand, as he edges even closer.

Before I could react, he jabs at my gut. Stefan lifts me up and baseball heaves me chest first to the wall. I feel my ribs shatter as I scream in pain.

“You’ll never live to know about your memory.” He smirks, and aims the pistol at me. I prepare myself for the end of my existence.

Abruptly, the siren blares. I hear voices outside, ordering to sprint to room A5 hastily. This room. Stefan lowers his pistol, opens the door and sprints down the hallway.

I manage a nimble cry, seeing blood on my hands. But then, I see nothing.

___________

522 words.

Edited April 14, 2016 by Daniel898

rothro3 · April 14, 2016

The Stormwake's Bounty

The stern exploded, splintering the heavy timbers of the Drake, and throwing me forward onto the rough deck below. Just my luck. I was sixteen, and I was going to die. For the past four days, the Stormwake, a notoriously cruel pirate ship, had unrelentingly pursued us like a giant shark, bent on its next meal. My name is Jake. I am the cabin boy for the Drake. I had spent my last three years aboard this ship, doing grueling work, like scrubbing the bilges. The Drake is a cargo ship, and I had seen some strange things come aboard here, like baboons(very loud), parrots(extremely smelly), and even elephants(please don't ask). But our latest acquisition topped the list. Just one hour before we were set to sail, a richly dressed woman and six armored gaurds appeared and bartered passage. Their cargo: seven packs and a locked casket. They paid their due, so no questions were asked. Now...inquisitions were flying around. The Drake had never had problems with pirates, but now the most ghastly of them all was on our heels, and had succeeded in immobilizing us. As the pirate ship drew parallel with the Drake, the Stormwake's bear figurehead gave a menacing glare at me. I stared horrified, until a hand clenched my arm and a frantic voice whispered:

"Do you know where they keep the dories?"

Startled, I placed up, to find myself face to face with our mysterious passenger. My mouth was dry, but I managed to croak, "Yes"

"Good, now show me where they are!"

"But the captain hasn't given the orders to lower them."

"Forget the captain. Worse will happen if I don't escape."

I wanted to argue, but her firm grip, hard voice, and the determined look in her eyes made me think twice.

"Escape?" I asked, "Escape to where, miss?"

As she hauled me to my feet, her nail bit into my flesh. "There," she said, pointing to a distant isle, "and don't call me miss, my name is Alina."

"But isn't that the island were Marsilok lives? Won't he kill us for trespassing?"

"It will be better than being on this ship tonight," came the calm answer, "Now where are the dories?"

After showing Alina and her escort where the dories where kept, I turned and was alarmed to see that the pirates had boarded the ship and were tussling with the crew. Beyond the bloody scuffle, the sky was darkening, and thunder rumble in the distance. Flonk! A magnificent splash informed me that the dory was in the water. Turning back, I saw one of Alina's gaurds hand her the iron-bound casket.

Two hands grasped me and tossed me into the dory. Startled, I steadied the small dory.

"Why am I coming?", I wondered.

A humorless smile flashed on Alina's face. "Because I can't row the oars."

Resigned to my fate, I grasped the oars and heaved. "Why aren't your gaurds coming?"

"They will stay behind and cover my escape."

"Bloody nasty job," I muttered as I rowed on.

Alina was sitting in the stern of the dory and so, she couldn't see the skirmish on the boat. Her guards were bleeding for her, and she was sitting smugly in a boat, sailing away from the violence. Then one pirate approached the rail, lowered his pistol, and shot Alina in the shoulder. I reached over to prevent her from falling when she gasped weakly, "Keep rowing. Must get away."

I had been trained to heed orders, and I stuck to that principle now. Dark clouds covered the sun as we left the ships blazing in our wake. Then the rain commenced. Here I was in the middle of the savage ocean, in an undersized tub, with a wounded lady and a locked casket.

Word count: 631(not including the title)

Rothro3

Edited April 14, 2016 by rothro3

Hex · April 15, 2016

^ Large fonts. Eeeeek xD

GeeVuh · April 15, 2016

^ Large fonts. Eeeeek xD

ikr, just keep it normal..

rothro3 · April 15, 2016

xD A story's merit is judged by its contents, not the container.

marc.jp_44 · April 16, 2016

Please excuse the delay and slightly over word count!

Chapter 1: The Escape

I wake up, in a tiny, gloomy room. No windows, no carpet or tiling, all wood. I've been stuck here for quite some time, now but don't know how or why I'm here. All I know is that I'm being held captive. I get food and drink once every day, it is barely sufficient for 24 hours but I've learnt to adapt. Rusted shackles prevent me from escaping, not that I'd even know where to go, if I was released. All I know is that this place gives me the creeps and I must escape, I can't live here any longer, it's physically and mentally killing me. I hear the doorknob turn, the only satisfying sound, that I hear for the whole day, as I know that my meal is here. The man enters my room, holding the tray and places it at my feet.

"Good morning, sleepyhead, glad to see you've woken, now here's your daily meal, enjoy! We've got some bread, with a little water on the side!"

"Thanks, I suppose, better than nothing," I say, reluctantly.

I quickly wallop it down, even though the bread's stale, I can't complain, at least it's something. Even after I finish eating, I still don't feel full, my stomach is begging for more. At that moment, I realise I have to do something, I have to escape, it's the only way. I could somewhat determine that the ground was made from clay, not the strongest of flooring. I dampen the clay with some water, and use every little piece of strength in me to dig a hole, using my cutlery. Not a scratch, I didn't even make a dent. I can't give up, though, I must escape this hellhole. I've lost a lot of weight since I started off here, and my shackles aren't as tight anymore. I use some water as lubrication and slide my hands out, using the flat part of the spoon. It hurts but I managed to get the shackles off. I'm free ... sorta, I'm still stuck in this room but whatever. I hear footsteps outside my room,

"Have you finished? Can I collect the tray for you," the doorman asks.

"Yes, I'm finished, please take my tray," I say, in a shaky voice.

I can hear the man slide the key in and I quickly stand behind the door. Once it opens, he enters and I quickly strangle him with a sleeper hold and watch as he loses consciousness. I carefully place his body behind the door and begin my escape. I peek my head outside the doorway, the coast is clear. I make a run for it but not before I hear voices, near me. They're just whispers but I can faintly here them. I hide in behind a wall and watch as they go past. Phew, that could've been close! I slowly tiptoe through this place and find a door. There's light peeking underneath the door, so I know that my freedom is on the other side. I carefully turn the knob and open the door. Once I opened the door, I wished I never did, as I was greeted by a horrifying surprise ...

534 Words, 2759 Characters

Edited April 16, 2016 by Marc

Podey_the_Buster · April 18, 2016

Can I write my story like mythology or should it be like real life stuff? And can the characters be tanks? (I mean, come on, it's Tanki!) Thanks! ;)

Edited April 18, 2016 by Podey_the_Buster

BlueDragon_tamki · April 18, 2016

Please excuse the delay and slightly over word count!

Chapter 1: The Escape

I wake up, in a tiny, gloomy room. No windows, no carpet or tiling, all wood. I've been stuck here for quite some time, now but don't know how or why I'm here. All I know is that I'm being held captive. I get food and drink once every day, it is barely sufficient for 24 hours but I've learnt to adapt. Rusted shackles prevent me from escaping, not that I'd even know where to go, if I was released. All I know is that this place gives me the creeps and I must escape, I can't live here any longer, it's physically and mentally killing me. I hear the doorknob turn, the only satisfying sound, that I hear for the whole day, as I know that my meal is here. The man enters my room, holding the tray and places it at my feet.

"Good morning, sleepyhead, glad to see you've woken, now here's your daily meal, enjoy! We've got some bread, with a little water on the side!"

"Thanks, I suppose, better than nothing," I say, reluctantly.

I quickly wallop it down, even though the bread's stale, I can't complain, at least it's something. Even after I finish eating, I still don't feel full, my stomach is begging for more. At that moment, I realise I have to do something, I have to escape, it's the only way. I could somewhat determine that the ground was made from clay, not the strongest of flooring. I dampen the clay with some water, and use every little piece of strength in me to dig a hole, using my cutlery. Not a scratch, I didn't even make a dent. I can't give up, though, I must escape this hellhole. I've lost a lot of weight since I started off here, and my shackles aren't as tight anymore. I use some water as lubrication and slide my hands out, using the flat part of the spoon. It hurts but I managed to get the shackles off. I'm free ... sorta, I'm still stuck in this room but whatever. I hear footsteps outside my room,

"Have you finished? Can I collect the tray for you," the doorman asks.

"Yes, I'm finished, please take my tray," I say, in a shaky voice.

I can hear the man slide the key in and I quickly stand behind the door. Once it opens, he enters and I quickly strangle him with a sleeper hold and watch as he loses consciousness. I carefully place his body behind the door and begin my escape. I peek my head outside the doorway, the coast is clear. I make a run for it but not before I hear voices, near me. They're just whispers but I can faintly here them. I hide in behind a wall and watch as they go past. Phew, that could've been close! I slowly tiptoe through this place and find a door. There's light peeking underneath the door, so I know that my freedom is on the other side. I carefully turn the knob and open the door. Once I opened the door, I wished I never did, as I was greeted by a horrifying surprise ...

534 Words, 2759 Characters

oh come on! I was waiting for what was going to happen next -_-

But I forgot this is just Chapter/Part I

Edited April 18, 2016 by BlueDragon_tamki

fahad_the_GREAT · April 18, 2016

Man i thought i would win but you guys are born writers. Good luck

GeeVuh · April 18, 2016

Man i thought i would win but you guys are born writers. Good luck

^_^ Thanks, I'm sure you're just as good! :lol:

marc.jp_44 · April 18, 2016

oh come on! I was waiting for what was going to happen next -_-

But I forgot this is just Chapter/Part I

Yeah, this was just Chapter 1, I'm glad the suspense built up, though.

Ok, fine, my word limit was too high so I needed to stop!

Leaflet314 · April 19, 2016

Your task is in the title: write a chapter of a story, forming a logical succession to the previous one. Seeing as that this is the first chapter, you are free to determine the topic.

-this does not quite make sense- because you see,the paraphrased phrase "making up the topic and also continuing another one " kind of contradicts itself.

Leaflet314 · April 19, 2016

Chapter 1: Madhouse

I am trapped. Trapped, like a mouse. I am caged in this house that has held me for so long. I fell as I am not what I seem. The guards don't know that though. They think I am fine, all cozy and safe. They are so ignorant. So very worthless. I struggle to find a need for their existence. They Man says they have to, but I think He's wrong. He just tells me what to do. I will get mad at Him, sometimes. I am always Angry. The Anger is always there. They don't know, though. They sit there, thinking that the world is safe, that nothing will ever hurt them, but they're wrong. They have no idea of what's to come. So worthless. The humans. I pity them, all silly and amok. They run around like they need to be everywhere all at once. They don't have Friends like I do. My Friends are always there for me, to give me support. But no friends remain for them. I have many friends. I was so Alone, locked in this maze, that one day my Friends appeared. They were so nice, at first. They said They would save me. But They were wrong. So very wrong. Oh, and They know it. They said I would be Safe. Bot nooo. When the Others came, they did not save me. When the Others made me kill the guard, they did not keep me safe from the bullets, the whips, the knives. They rained from the sky, going through my head like so many lessons they tried to teach me. Lessons. How silly. I spite them, just for the sake. Humans and their fables, their legends, How little they really know. They call me human, but I think they lie. They're trying to trick me, to get me to "heal", and to come back as "one of them." Oh, but they don't know. I have Learned, and they have not. I can take from them what they treasure most, and they will not stop me. Oh, not ever. However much they try to stop me, I will always destroy them. This house. I know it watches. It's a maze, just shifting, ever-moving. Just to spite me. But, Oh, when I get my hands on that Things, it'll be sorry. Everyone will be sorry for anything they ever did to me. The World will be sorry. And it will burn when I get to them. I just need to get out of this House. Out of the house. Out. Of. The. HOUSE!

Leaflet314 · April 19, 2016

^my entry; hope I left a lot of suspense and material to work with here. Hope you like it.

Leaflet314 · April 19, 2016

Chapter 1: Madhouse

I am trapped. Trapped, like a mouse. I am caged in this house that has held me for so long. I fell as I am not what I seem. The guards don't know that though. They think I am fine, all cozy and safe. They are so ignorant. So very worthless. I struggle to find a need for their existence. They Man says they have to, but I think He's wrong. He just tells me what to do. I will get mad at Him, sometimes. I am always Angry. The Anger is always there. They don't know, though. They sit there, thinking that the world is safe, that nothing will ever hurt them, but they're wrong. They have no idea of what's to come. So worthless. The humans. I pity them, all silly and amok. They run around like they need to be everywhere all at once. They don't have Friends like I do. My Friends are always there for me, to give me support. But no friends remain for them. I have many friends. I was so Alone, locked in this maze, that one day my Friends appeared. They were so nice, at first. They said They would save me. But They were wrong. So very wrong. Oh, and They know it. They said I would be Safe. Bot nooo. When the Others came, they did not save me. When the Others made me kill the guard, they did not keep me safe from the bullets, the whips, the knives. They rained from the sky, going through my head like so many lessons they tried to teach me. Lessons. How silly. I spite them, just for the sake. Humans and their fables, their legends, How little they really know. They call me human, but I think they lie. They're trying to trick me, to get me to "heal", and to come back as "one of them." Oh, but they don't know. I have Learned, and they have not. I can take from them what they treasure most, and they will not stop me. Oh, not ever. However much they try to stop me, I will always destroy them. This house. I know it watches. It's a maze, just shifting, ever-moving. Just to spite me. But, Oh, when I get my hands on that Things, it'll be sorry. Everyone will be sorry for anything they ever did to me. The World will be sorry. And it will burn when I get to them. I just need to get out of this House. Out of the house. Out. Of. The. HOUSE!

also, there is a typo in the fourth sentence, fell should be feel.

greyat · April 19, 2016

1. Topic can be whatever you want. Keep it appropriate.

2. All stories have a beginning, no?

3. In addition to the 'hide' button, there's also an 'edit' button. Perhaps use that instead of ~~triple~~ quadruple posting?

That_One_Patrick · April 19, 2016

2. All stories have a beginning, no?

Nah, they don't.

DragonOfStorms · April 19, 2016

Dark Tidings

Lightning splits the sky as rain pours in sheets on the black mountains, and the barren, rocky wastes surrounding them. However, even this great tempest is nothing compared to the storm raging in the mind and heart of the solitary, cloaked figure struggling towards the accursed peak of Drach Myrn.

He would never do this. Not my friend.

Yes, he would. He was always careless about endangering others.

He couldn't do this. He isn't strong enough.

You don't know what he might be capable of. There are many ways to get power - including Broken Lake...

He wouldn't go there! Not to that place!

Yes, he would. He was always obsessed with power.

Even he would never go that far.

How do you know that? Perhaps you never really knew him at all...

No. No! He was my best friend!

Evil often hides where we least expect it.

Then I must try to destroy him?

Perhaps not. He may yet be redeemed.

Then I will try.

The young wizard reaches the peak, cloak swirling in the violent winds. "Come to join me, friend?" The voice is nothing like the friendly, laughing voice he once knew. It is cold, mocking, derisive. He looks up, at the dark figure that he thought he knew.

"No. I have come to stop you."

"Stop me? Me? My friends have made me powerful, beyond your worst nightmares!"

"I am your friend. End this madness, while you can!"

"You are not my friend. My true friends help me. Join me, and none shall stand before us!"

"I-I cannot. Please, give up this evil!"

"Those who will not join me shall be destroyed!"

As he spits these words, he hurls a bolt of dark magic at the wizard. The wizard quickly casts a spell to deflect it, heart sinking as he realizes he now fights for his life. Thunder rolls as the two mages duel, one fighting to save his former friend, the other fighting to kill his former friend. Desperately dodging dark spells, he slips on the wet rock that has been slickened by the torrential rain. The fallen sorcerer, laughing, leaps forward for the kill. As the wizard attempts to rise, he whispers: "Please". The sorcerer hesitates, perhaps remembering simpler times of friendship. In that instant the wizard regains his feet, leveling his staff at the dark mage. "Please," he repeats, "come with me! Leave this darkness behind!" Rage and sorrow war on the sorcerer's face. Suddenly...

The word count (including the title and this jibber-jabber) is 432.

himself_cos_hes_a_D · April 19, 2016

Hell's Angels

"All stand for the new graduates from training!" An unseen voice booms .

The audience stands, in unison, shouting the chant that they have heard since the day they were born. "Heil the Whyte Hand! Heil the Whyte Hand!"

"These elite recruits, the best of the best, were hand-picked at 15 years of age and subsequently trained for five years, learning everything they need to survive in the Overworld. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeaaase welcome, the new squad, WH-ELI-1657!"

The crowd roars as the new agents step out onto the polished, ebony, stage.

They all did the well-known and feared Whyte Hand salute, one hand parallel to their chest, the other clutching the wrist of the vertical hand.

The new agents are in their sterilised, white barracks, pulling on their night-clothes when the elected leader of their squad, Christian Aldenkamp, struck up a conversation.
"Who do you think our first retrieval mission is going to be for?"

"Hopefully a famous singer or actor, the 'media' up in the Overworld will be going spastic." Augustijn Schultheiss, the seldom speaking pretty-boy of the group interjected.

"Or maybe let's get the president of the U.S.A.!" drawled Rikard Wedekind, as sarcastic as usual.

"Shut up, all of you!" Second-in-command, Hilda Nuremberg, complained, as she dived back under her duvet.

The male members of the squad looked at each other. Christian murmured, as not to incur Hilda's wrath, "Well, she does have a point, I'm friggin exhausted after those celebration parties. Lights out."

"Guys, guys, wake up, we have our first retrieval!" Rikard Wedekind bellowed.

There was an instant scramble for the agent's RETpacks and excited murmurs as they tried to guess who the target of their retrieval was.

"Nah jokes. There's no mission. But it is Christdeath today! Presents!"

The were groans at Rikard's 'joke' but they ended as they saw the bulging sack in Rikard's hand. They all peered inside the sack, and then the world exploded in flashes of colour.

As the trainees rubbed their eyes and regained their feet, Third Lieutenant Hans Petrescu marched into the barracks. "What is the third rule in training!?"

"Never assume that anything is safe." The agents duly replied.

"Right. And just cause someone says it's a holiday with presents, does it mean it is saf-" The world then again explodes, except this time, the explosion is real.

Anonono · April 20, 2016

Entries close today!

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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